She looked out to the world,
Her fist was curled,
Her hair just twirled,
When people looked her way,
They told her, she was going to pay,
My sister May
Was born in December

The girl in a jean jacket that screams at football games and laughs at lunch. Dances at parties and smiles at class.
I recall homework that is due today while she stresses out because she hasn't done it yet.
I distinctly remember a golden memory of jokes and giggles.
It was a boring day because the usual boredom that school comes with, was killing me and her. We decided to do something about it.
I never thought of myself as a rebel, and this wasn’t rebellious at all so… It was lunch.
I and my friends I was walking around the halls.
We walked into a Chinese class with curiosity. The teacher says something about boba.
We nod in agreement, not fully listening.
At the end of it all, we were never in the Chinese class or club but it was a mutual agreement that we were going to get boba.
We snuck a cup and a straw and sipped away.
The fruity blues and reds residing on our lips as we drank.
We left the classroom giggling girly noises and snorting.
I can still taste the fruit in the drink.
The day that the girl in a jean jacket reminded me that school is not just for learning but also for fun.

The day started like any other.
The monotone rituals, routines, and outfits.
My class was going to be boring, I thought to myself as the kids started filing in. I looked at their faces, young and ignorant of the world around them. They were going to start high school with no knowledge of the real world or how to survive it.
That’s where I come in.
I am a middle school teacher with secrets that I love to share.
The bell rings with a high pitch to it.
The same old bell that rings when one is starting class.
I started explaining what we were going to do today and what the rules are. Kids object, not wanting to present in front of the whole class but I shake my head.
Kids these days, wanting nothing but to hide in the shadows and lurk where there is no attention given.
This was almost half of their grade.
They weren’t going to miss out on this.
There was no way.
Miss this and it will break your grade.
At least that’s what I thought when suddenly, a girl with a curly brown ponytail runs out of the class cupping her nose.
****** nose.
Well, I thought, this day was to be more exciting than I had previously thought.

It was just a normal, boring history class.
My group was just about to present a presentation about the typical topic.
I was ready.
I knew what I had to say and do.
My team depended on me.
This was the 7th grade.
I got up to start my lecture on how wonderful castles where.
Then I felt something splatter on my new blouse.
The blood came pretty fast.
I just had a fever the other day.
And thanks to science, I know that because of the fever my blood clots were not normal.
As I was slowly concluding that my nose was bleeding it was too late. I walked up there and it came out.
Just as I lifted my hand to cover the bleeding it already was splattered everywhere.
I ran to the tissues and bolted out the door.
I ran into the bathroom, my hands shaking.
I looked in the mirror.
Who was that?
Who was I?
The girl that looked back at me as someone that had blood everywhere on her face and looked like she was just about to cry.
I couldn’t cry.
I wouldn’t.
I-I shouldn’t.
I am.
I was supposed to be tough but it came.
It burst out and turned into sobs.
Heaving and hacking at my lungs.
The tissues couldn’t hold all of the bleeding.
It began to seep through and onto my fingers.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t feel.
I would’ve stayed there until someone found my skeleton.
But thankfully, that didn’t happen.
As luck would have it, a teacher was in one of the stalls.
She came out into the main bathroom area and gasped.
She eyed me and shook her head.
She grabbed me by my arm.
My mind was muddled due to the loss of blood.
I stared at her numbly. She spoke, “Now, now dear let me take you to the office. We can get you ice and your mom.”
Her voice was light and maternally.
She cared about me.
We walked, arms linked with my hand over my nose clogged with tissues.
I shivered thinking what my mom would do.
I had missed the biggest presentation of the year.
Hopefully, she would understand.
I entered the office with head held high.
Not making eye contact with anyone.
The main lady at the desk questioned, “Did someone beat you up?”
I didn’t take offense to this because I was bleary-eyed and looked disheveled. The secretary shook her head and said, “No fight. I found her like this.”
The lady smiled in my direction and handed me the phone.
I dialed my mom’s phone number, hands shaking, terrified of what was to come next.

My friend's crush,
The one who makes her blush.
A strange guy, a smart guy,
I just hope he doesn't make her cry
Then, oh then is he really gonna die.
But curious enough,
He called my bluff
And started complimenting my stuff
I am really worried because he starting flirting,
And now I never want to see him hurting.
Now my friend's crush is also mine

There is a house on a hill. I like to go there after school.
Aren’t any math equations for me to solve,
aren’t any classes I have to revolve around school.
Not in my house on a hill.
There was my mom in an apron, she hugged me.
I saw a garden full of veggies, ripe and vibrant in greens and yellows.
I walk into the house and all I saw was the stairs.
My mommy leading me to the dining table.
It was a cold night out and I was working hard.
On the table were my favorite foods.
Curry, Pad Thai, fish sauce and brown eggs.
My mouth watered from the thought of food I had had been lacking.
My stomach growled, howling like the wind for it to be fed.
I ate the delectable meal and lick off my plate.
My sisters laughed and jested at me.
Once I am done we all sit on the couch and discuss life, and how are day was. Something I plan on keeping as a tradition of my own.
The conversations turn from happy and humorous experiences to tender, heart-rendering, soul drenching ones.
We talk about friends and how my sis wants new ones.
How I love my friends to death. And how the elementary kids don’t dote too much on the topic.
I smiled to myself, thinking how much joy there was in my house, oops I mean home.

My crush who smiles a lopsided grin making me blush uncontrollably and tells me a joke.
The joke isn’t funny but I giggle anyway.
Who smells like vanilla and sweat.
Has a dream I hope will come true for his sake, but mostly mine.
Is passing class but won’t try.
Who runs faster than the wind.
Who when I talk to I stutter.
Who curls his voluminous golden hair with his fingers.
Who looks into your eyes and takes you away to a place of life, light, and music.
Who doesn’t know right from wrong?
Is charming but sweet.
Funny but serious.
Leaves you breathless and full of life.
He is alive.
He asks who wants to live life to the fullest who?
And I foolishly nod my head yes.
Whom I am attracted to like a magnet to a fridge.
Today I saw him talking to another girl.
He smiled a lopsided grin.
She blushed.
He told a joke.
And her annoyingly beautiful giggle, like the tinkling of bells, bounced off the halls and pierced my heart.
My crush who smiles at all the girls he sees.
Who makes you feel worthwhile and worthless at the same time.
Who broke my heart and never looked back.

Picturette scene, mountains reaching off the ground peaking, trying to touch a little bit of glory from the sky for themselves.
Green meadows, violet and fuschia flowers blossoming for miles and miles.
I knew that this place had a magic to it called, nature.
Nature dripping off this place, for all I could see was thriving organisms, no death, no destruction.
I desperately wanted to grab my notebook and jot down a few notes and observations of the gorgeous place.
I walked around a bit, trying to absorb everything in, piece by piece.
I looked over to my left and there was my father, the man who taught me how to appreciate nature.
When I walked over to him he was taking pictures on his ever so fancy photographer camera. (Sorry I don’t know what it is called.)
I had always respected my dad.
But now looking at him snapping away on his camera I started to respect him even more.
Not because he was tall and demanding, but he took the time to get the perfect picture.
That’s why I respected him, his focus and his attentiveness were that of a camera lens.
He had the patience that I didn’t.
That’s my daddy, the Dreamer.