blonde hair.
blue eyes.
thin body.
designer clothes.
popularity contest.
matter over mind
over matter
over mind.
prom queen.
cheerleading captain.
top of the social ladder.
perfect.

depression.
anxiety.
lies.
secrets.
fake smile.
makeup.
insecurities.
tears.
eating disorder.
masks.
heartbreak.
sadness.
insecurities.
insecurities.­
insecurities.
insecurities.

To my innocence, naivety, and viridity
Childish ways, high school days.
A mere three weeks, I say good bye
With a cry, a tear, a sigh.

To blue slacks, and a polo
Black shoes and white socks
To my pink skirt, and white blouse,
Pleated, soon to be folded.

To the OHS rooms of our first and second years:
The broken windows, and tantrum-kicked chairs,
The broom box behind the spider webbed chalkboard,
Messages on the wall hand printed in red and green.

The broken doorknobs, and broken floorboards,
Carved armchairs, and eaten chalks,
Missing brooms and dustpans and garbage cans and rugs
That show up in who knows where
Stolen by jani- we know who.

The witnesses and victims
To our random laughter (from some Chinese-looking girl’s corny joke).
Our random tears.
Our not so random learnings.
The pillars of our memories.

To the PF rooms of our third year:
The storage room turned gigantic garbage can and dressing room (maybe because ours keep being stolen)
The exploding socket causing sparks to fly (and us to fly away from it), and
The amazing “alambre” lock; who knows who installed (as if that could keep us away).
The earthquake resistant rooms would be missed.

To the New High School Building of our last years:
The kicked door (not our fault!), and cancerous blinds (like hairs falling after chemo),
The jigsaw floor (not sure if better than broken floorboards),
The “Halayan 2012”, and
The mind-boggling “no key needed” lockers.


The UTMT with its fair share of mango sentences,
The old guidance office now turned “tambayan”, and
The Computer lab with its fragile yellow chairs and bruised bums.

To Ibong Adarna plays, and the half cooked uncooked Teriyaki,
Generation X (and Generation NOW! and Generation Facebook),
Jai ** dances, and cheerleading,
Kalagon Kamo Namon,
And Mickey Mickey Mouse Kabit-bintana memories.

To the NikJep Tandem,
Kanlaon Boys Behind the Flowers,
D.H.A.I.N.G. (not sure if they remember this),
Fred vs Gino version
And DewBheRhieTart.

Keep the volcanoes of memories burning.

To blue paint, and blue shirts,
And Geometry teaching us
“There are a lot of solutions to a problem.
We just have to find one that suits us.”

To saying “***”,
And cooking imbutido.
And wearing (for some designing) reduced,
Reused, recycled clothing.
And dissecting.
And parrot-Filipino teachers (she gave me P30 for load though).

Keep the river of rumination flowing.

To being scared of one whole sheet of paper,
Two becoming one,
Party rocking to make up for the tears,
And knowing we should have won.

To the hand sanitizer girls,
The Cream-o-holics,
The Canterbury Crusaders,
The Valenciana eaters.

May our tree of friendship continue growing.

To our winnings!

The glow in the dark madness,
The Lakan at Mutya clutch-heart-moments,
The Sports Fest *******,
Basketball girls’ coronation!

To the fieldtrips and failed trips,
To air conditioned crammings,
And space and time bending
To comparing notes (and sometimes other things)
Copying notes, sometimes photocopying
(Not Xeroxing)
Sharing words, phrases, sentences
And giving pictures (via Bluetooth).

May you keep walking on the right direction,

To the expectations achived,
Broken, overtaken.
All the skepticism,
Constructive criticism.

All of it.

The in-your-face-we-did-it-baby-
We-are-awesome-you-can’t-bring-us-do­wn-
Coz-we-rise-back-up-attitude.

To Arielle
And Mhae

To Amica
Marie
Narzcisa
Cyan
Fred
Theo
Alvinson
Anthony
Faith
Karmil­la
Matt
Jeffson
Lourince

To Carolyn

To Makayla

To the thirty-five castaways in this room
The thirty-five castaways who struggled
The thirty-five castaways who persevered
The thirty-five castaways who fought, cried, made up, laughed, shared, gave, back-stabbed, and front-stabbed, celebrated, suffered, passed
Thirty-five
Thirty-five castaways who loved,
Thirty-five

Thirty-five castaways who made it, who did it.

To Nikki
Hazel
Alyssa
Gef
Veni
Alex
Jaykee
Bernard
Myra
Vince
Chanta­lle
Josen
Jerian
Shaira
J
Uriah
Ihra
Renz
Bless
Steffany
Angel
Fl­orey
Bernadine
Antonette
Rency
Owen
Majah
Gino
Marcelo
Ney
Keith
­Joselle
And Jessa,

We did it guys.
We really did.

Flipping threw my old yearbook
I see girls who were once gorgeous
tooken my the devils hand
pregnant and life beaten now
horrendous
I remember seeing them
with there cheerleading outfits on
As I sat in a corner by myself
I here them laughing and chatting
about going to tonys house after school
I remember tony strong handsome captain of the highschool world
I saw him two weeks ago
With his hands covering his face
And a shot next to him
3 empty beers infront
He really let himself go I remember thinking
fat and forgotten about
still clinging to that highschool dream
I remember him saying I was a loser as he flipped my lunch tray
and humiliated me by reading my little notebook of writes
I remember saying to him
one day ill have the last laugh
one day ill see you down and out
and you'll ask me for a handout
going back to the bar I sit down
A couple stools down to see if he recognised me
He finished his 3 beers as I finished my long island ice tee
he said to the bar tender I gotta ***
be right back
I followed him to the restroom
and we were a ****** apart
I looked over and seen his small patheic *****
as I looked at my *****
I laughed
and I laughed
and I laughed
looked over at tony
and said see sir
I did get the last laugh
and I left
I hope he knows me now
I hope he knows me now

The stage was  set the little untalented ***** monkeys gathred
like bizzar attention seeking ******  all for the title
of  Hello Poetry's top poet.

But enough with the weird named carbon copy poets
who now **** the charts im just saying im a little bitter.
Lets take a look at the judges you silly little donkeys.

It was a who's who of people who actully were something
that what in the real world we like to call original.
Jack  yes the loveable kinda ******* ****** who deep
down would probaly have more in common with Jack the Ripper
than Lord Byron  im just saying.

Baths  yes the queen of Hello  and i'd  be a smart *** now but im scared she'd hurt me  and not in a good way  not that im into
pain dam you Marv  Albert    i never knew the tijuanna brass were so freaky.

Chris Smith  the poet  the model  the all  around  hansome devil
with a heart of gold  you go girl.

Phil Roberts  the silent  yet  down right evil  arch enemy of
all things  sweet and pure finally off probation and his meds.
Still the restraining  order was in full effect thank God  Barney
that devil worshiping dinosuar was no where in site  and as long as the voices in Phils head were happy we were all safe.

And the man the myth the pervert drunken *******  of Hello.
Just back from his recent vist   to  Shady Pines  resort slash mental
institution.
Gonzo  along with his court ordred doctor .
Dr Jerry  Who held many degree's in bartending,Massage therapy with happy endings,And chemistry yes  he was a real busy ******* slash drug fiend okay dealer.
What a girl has her needs.

Sitting at the judges table it was the usal chatter how are you.
Nice ***'s  hey Phil  put down the knife.
Jack  wear did you get that muzzle and straight jacket?
Baths  reminding me she didnt wanna have to use the pepper spray
like at the Hello christmas party.

Gonzo pouring his wild turkey.
Dr Jerry yelling  hey just what do you think your doing?
What are ya drinking by yourself?
Good point  you silly *******  so after four strong drinks
some lines of uhh  sinus powder from Columbia they dont just
make records  to my suprize we were off like lindsy lohan
on a drug I mean  well a drug run.

The first couple of guys read there genitic poems all of which
were like taco bell food.It  pretty much  would either give you food poisening or the ****'s.

Person after person read there poetry the drinks poured
people gave there opinions  Chris well the poem was great just maybe pace it better.

Baths giving another deep comment that was always welcome
that and the contestants outta sheer fear knew not to cross her
cause **** happens after dark around here and the Hello dumpster
is filled with not just bottles of wild turkey yeah remember Drew?
Exactly.

Jack gave a long muffled  comment  that must have surely been brillant someone should really remove that dam muzzle.

Phil  goddamed dinosuar  i'll teach him for playing hard to get.
oh yeah he'll like it he'll like it real good  oh look
a puppy dog.

Okay kinda weird  but well yeah.

Then the  attention turned to the attention grabing little *****
of Hello  no not  Gary ****** man.
the only G that matters beside's spot  Gonzo.

Well I think you need to lean more into the microphone  when you
read  and um well to relax  show more clevage.
And may I say if that was a samba   it totally ******
1 star.

The room and other judges must have been amazed by my depth
for they were all silent.
Dr Jerry aplauded  dam he really knew how to fill out that cheerleading outfit   we really needed to take a fishing trip im just saying
male bounding is okay sometimes  just ask Phil.

The people kept rolling in i slept through most of the mens readings
the women  because im a gentleman  and a scholar I had DR Jerry give my card  cause if Ican help inspire and guide maybe cuddle  fresh hot
young poets im all for it   I know what your saying yes I am  
giving back to the Hello community and not just STD's and hangovers.

But enough with the foreplay  finally  with the tension built up
like little catholic school girls waiting for there savior Justin Bieber to make a appearence   it was time.

Who was Hello's top new poet.
The short little **** *******  slash  napoleon of hello walked to the mic.
And after several  attempts at reaching it  one of his many  
assistants slash  friends with benfits of staying on the charts forever
assumed the possition.
So he could stand on there back and talk in the mic.
Get your mind outta the gutter.

The winner is  for there poem the Gentic.
There began a rumble beside me ******  Dr Jerry
stop jerking off were public man.

But it wasnt my dealer I mean doctor .
It was My fashion forward amigo Jack.
The rumbling continued slowley the straps began to snap
as his color changed to red once would have been to green
if not for copyright infrigement dam you king kong.

The red devil burst from his restraints  like a  stripper off
a four week ******* binge let loose  at Macdonalds.
tables flew  clothes were ripped.
Bathe's yelled  at the top of her lungs  look ****** I have a tazer
so if you try to cop a feel i'll use it.
Must have been talking to Phil or Chris.

I knew what to do  in this chaos i quickly ran with the special talent of Hello  to my dressing room  DR Jerry  emergency bring  wild turkey duct tape  a video camera  a inflatable swimming pool  some jello mix and  a Kenny G  cd  and some roofies .
Im kidding  I never listen to Kenny G.

The screams were that of a german shapard ripping a smurf to shreads.
Help me  plaese  mommy I almost felt sorry for Eliot.
But i did what a true gentleman slash long winded journalist does in these time's. Sat back with some cocktails and enjoyed some jello
wrestling  opps  I think  the tickle monster is loose.

Me first  me first  ******  Phil  well if it keeps the voices at bay
why the **** not.
We laughed we danced  Jack Horner  bathed in Eliots blood.
While Chris said please  stop including me in these ****** stories
Gonzo.
    
While Baths  kept her tazer in hand  and dry white wine in the other.
Much like  a bad habbit I grow on you.
Jack looked at me as old brothers in shared insanity often do.
Hey Gonzo  when ya  gonna end this one mate?
Hey amigo  as soon as ya get that  *** on stage and close the show
with a lady gaga  preformance.

The *****, the *******,  the Brits,And Gonzo,
With his doctor slash roadie slash personal man servant bartender
who could ask for anything more than a purple dinosaur's head on a platter but enough about Phil.

Untill next time Stay Crazy  Kids.
Gonzo.

Just a man. That’s all he was and would be to me. My mother seemed to see something in him, enough to introduce him to me and my younger sister, but that does not change anything that’s happened. It does not heal the pain I still feel from the three years of watching my parents fall apart. I was unsure who to blame until now. It had to be my mom. The hope that my parents would soon get back together was suddenly gone. It felt official: a broken family is all that I would ever have. There would be no place to call my home, just houses. I feel so misunderstood, as if I’m walking around, screaming for help and understanding, but no one hears my cry. I can tell I’m growing into a pessimist. After the divorce and passing of several close family members what was there to look forward to in my life? More heartache?  Standing outside of the rental house I hated, I shook his hand, faked a smile, and rushed to my car. I wanted no part in this. Good luck, man.
The next few encounters with the man are much like the first. I don’t say much. I watch nerves gravitate as he tries his hardest to get to know me. It is almost as if he can sense my hard exterior. I appreciate the effort. He keeps coming around.  My sister seems to like him, but of course she does; she is the happy-go-lucky one. They are always laughing as they talk. I listen in to some of their conversations. He’s pretty funny. I observe the man and my mom as they cook yet another dinner together. The way he looks at her; it’s so innocent. The way she looks at him; it’s so captivating.  A smile takes over my face before I can think to stop myself. The more I see of them together the more smiles I am unable to resist. In these moments I knew this man, Cary, would be important to us. The very reason for my hardening will be the same for my surrender: family.
I’m laughing, I’m crying, I’m expressing myself with different emotions besides anger! I can talk to him about anything; I have even talked to him about my parents’ divorce. He listens attentively, he always listens attentively. He tells me the story of the time he got caught skipping school because he ended up in the hospital. My mom and dad have been all over my case about my attendance. It’s comforting to know that he was also the rebellious child in his family. He always helps me to know that I am not the only one; I trust Cary. I dare even say that I consider him a best friend. We have had so many fun times together. I think of watching The Office, Saturday Night Live, and YouTube videos we quote CONSTANTLY. I think of turning doughnuts in my high school parking lot when school was cancelled because of snow... Oh! Then there’s the time we had a competition to see who could steal the coolest thing from a restaurant. I think he beat me. I would never admit that to him though! When I open the kitchen cabinet, that **** IHOP coffee mug still smirks at me, gloating, reminding me of my defeat. I think back to the first day we met; we certainly have come quite the distance. My insecurities are replaced with confidence. He has helped me find myself and develop my character into someone who is proud to be different. I like who I am.
May 16th 2011: he calls to wish me good luck, and to tell me how proud he was of me for making it as far as I had. I calm my nerves, get dressed and adjust my cheerleading bow. Today was my day. Today was the day I was going to make The University of Alabama’s first all-girl cheerleading squad. I leave the gym as one of the lucky few who has made it to the final round. The countdown begins as I wait for the list to be posted. This is it. I slowly walk towards the door. Girls pass me crying because their world was shattered. Girls pass me screaming in excitement because their dream came true. I take a deep breath and look at the paper. Makenzie Hill, Makenzie Hill, Makenzie Hill… MAKENZIE HILL! That’s me! My dream came true! I run to the car and my mom is ecstatic. We are jumping and crying tears of joy. I celebrate with my cousin and my Godmother as my mom goes to make phone calls. She returns, tears still flowing, but the joy has left her eyes. What’s wrong? My world was shattered. May 16th 2011: the day I lost my stepfather and best friend.
I place my bow in his cold hand. My voice won’t hold steady “I did it, Cary. I made it.” My mind and heart race each other as overwhelming emotions and questions fill me. I begin wondering how we will ever manage to pull ourselves together again as a family. I remember Cary. He taught me that it is okay to trust things you are unsure of. He taught me the importance of family and time together. He taught me faith. I must stay strong for him. The man I once wanted no part of is forever a part of me. He is my angel.

1) At age 8 you realize that someone you look up to might not be the angel they pretend to be. Sometimes you’ll have to hide in your closet, crying, because you can’t stand to hear his yelling anymore. Your sister will hold your hand and sing you lullabies as you fall asleep to your father repeatedly pushing his girlfriend into a wall.

2) At age 9 you find out that blood is thicker than water, but love is thicker than blood. Just because someone isn’t your family, it doesn’t mean that they won’t love you the same. And when that person leaves, it will never be a final goodbye, even when the thought of your father brings tears to their eyes.

3) At age 10 you learn that no matter the age, children can be evil. They’ll put gum in your hair and push you down on the playground, just because you enjoy reading. When you come home crying to your mother, she’ll squeeze you tight and whisper “You’ll show them one day, my darling”.

4) At age 11 you come to the conclusion that women are very beautiful and have soft lips. You’re scared to admit it at first, but love is love is love. When your stepdad catches you kissing your best friend, he’ll forbid you from seeing her. But nothing will be able to stop you from realizing who you are and what you like.

5) At age 12 you’ll understand that leaving everything you’ve known can be the hardest thing to do. You’ll scream and cry and punch walls when your parents tell you that you are switching schools. You’ll lock yourself in your room and throw things to the floor, telling them how much you hate them and praying that somehow, someway, they will change their minds.

6) At age 13 you’ll understand that leaving everything you’ve known can be the best thing to happen to you. Despite people making fun of you for being the new girl with the funky haircut, you find a group of people who just get you and pull you out of your shell. You’ll start acting and singing and spend your weekends at the beach with some of the greatest people you’ll ever meet. You’ll find yourself for the first time in your life.

7) At age 14 you meet the man who will change your life forever. Your friends are his friends and you love the feeling of falling asleep on his shoulder. People tell you how much he loves you, he tells you how much he loves you, and you finally feel the sort of completeness you’ve been searching for since your father left you.

8) At age 15 you see the devil for the first time in someone who tells you that you are the love of their life. When he pushes you to the ground, you can’t help but think of when you were 8. You’ll fight and breakup and kiss and makeup, an endless cycle that’ll leave you completely drained. But after the third hospital visit in a year, and a night with him that leaves you scared of people ever touching you romantically, you find the courage to leave him for good. No man is with worth the anguish and heartbreak and hatred.

9) At age 16 you learn how to find yourself again. You cut your hair, join the cheerleading team, and toss all the toxic people out of your life. You let yourself try new things and experience a life without the grip of a malicious man holding you down.

10) At age 16 you’ll also learn how devastating loss can be. A wall of blackness will drown you in class when the principal tells you your friend is gone for good. You’ll blame yourself for not being there when he needed you and you’ll blame yourself for never recognizing how much trouble he was actually in. At the funeral, you tell his brother and father and mother you’re sorry and even though you’re not crying (because you haven’t shed a tear since your ex retched your innocence from you) you truly mean it. His voice will always be in your head and you’ll see him everywhere you go. You’ll learn that great men will forever live on.

11) At age 17 you learn the meaning of true friendship. It can come in any shape, size or form. It’ll come in the social studies teacher who taught you what it means to be independent and enjoy it. It’ll come in the friend you’ve had since 7th grade but never realized was your soulmate and best friend until you spend an entire month traveling together. It’ll even come in the stupid grey and white cat your family got after the previous one died (at least this one will fall asleep next to you).

12) You’re 18 years old now and things aren’t always the best. Some days are worse than the others and you feel like giving up completely. But you relish in the fact that you are getting an education at your number one school and have found a group of people who make you feel at home even though you’re 7 hours away. You never thought you’d make it this far; never believed that you had it in you to get away after years of begging to do so. Every trial and tribulation has helped you become who you are today. Every tear, every smile, every experience has led you to this exact moment. Take advantage of this beautiful privilege and never lose sight of what you want. You are a powerful woman who doesn’t need a man to help her believe this. You will do great things, just keep your head high and always remember the little island and people that helped raise you.

The room was filled with burnout nuts who looked half crazy dear lord what was someone as normal as me doing here.
Yeah dont laugh im being serious or however ya spell it.

The group slash cult leader approached the mic.
Hello im Dan .
Hello Dan.

Dear lord these people were some brainwashed hampsters almost as bad
as that voodoo priestest Taylor Swift yeah Her new song sounds just like her last okay.
the only people who like her are kids and perverts that reminds me gotta put that video on mute when i
watch it it really messes up the mood what!
Im talking bout when im writting ya perves haha no im not.

Enough with the foreplay kids.
The man went into his speech how he used to snort lines that went from here to texas
picked up hookers drank till he passed out.
Hey No wonder this man was a leader he was soon becoming my hero.

But then I hit rock bottem and stopped found Jesus once honestly i didnt know he was lost.
Now he hadnt had a dam bit of fun in four years i couldnt contain my laughter
what a ***** huh?
I said to the old drunk beside me.

Hey what you got in that cup there grandpa.
He just looked at me in a strange manner must be on a hell of a trip lucky *******.
He spoke slow in a ***** old seductive kinda scared shitless by me manner
It's Koolaide.

Yeah weird mixer what ya trying to pick up kids ya nut what else is in it?
This oldman was playing a game yeah  sure dont share you old ***** hound
my flask was nearly empty and my patience was fading with every sober ***** that took the stage Jesus people it was listening to Jeff Foxworthy it's great if your ******* but honestly its one step above a ******* puppet.

The group of lame areses was almost done when they looked at me hey there friend feel like sharing?
It was something I should fight but a mic and stage was as tempting as a
wild turkey and college keg party.

Why not.

Hey Kids Im Gonzo!
Hey Gonzo jesus it was like dealing with a human parrot or Brittney Spears really
you've  seen one mindless drone ya seem em all.

I took a deep sip from my coffee with a little something extra cup
mmm acid and folgers it goes togather like teens and ****** reallity  shows ******* MTV!

Well Im Gonzo , Hello Gonzo.
Look meeting of the living braindead it's funny the first time okay.
Okay jesus these people were bad as a boy band dam three tenors yeah your all
hot and can sing opera but wants to party to that ****.

Look here  Ive been drinking since 12  umm commited alotta fun crimes
Once paid the babysitter to show me her *******  yeah I know winning.
Ive been in 20  car crashes some of em not just other peoples cars  like I can afford one.

Ive done every drug known to man and some that arent made by people named skull and eightball.
dated strippers snorted coke off of more than just a table  get your mind outta the
gutter cause if ya dont your gonna end up like me serious!

My wife is full of life and strung out on pills that reminds me
i gotta pick her up after cheerleading practice.
Ive been in the iron bar hotel many a night yeah that ****** but he hairy guys are great to cuddle with
like big teddy bears who'll **** you yeah that ****** so ive herd well yeah.

The group was silent till DR Downer spoke up but when did you hit bottom.
Sir thats my personal life okay and besides i not that hung okay.
But you stopped right.

Stopped what are you high on crack Bobby Brown?  
First off amigo its cheap second I aint stopping till im dead yeah i could work out have no
fun and spend the rest of my life speaking in front of nuts who used to be cool
Like you Irene hey personally i wish i had seen you in the ******* cause you seem
like a nice lady and really easy to get into bed okay yeah im
sensative I always pay after that's manners.

The crowd was filled with something what was this place Jonestown
Look at what ya all become eating cookies and drinking **** I wouldnt even
drink when i was ******* five okay.

And you ****** Dave well okay it's kinda weird ya hung out in park restrooms
But if only you had met George Micheal maybe then he'd still be making good  records but ya gotta have faith im just saying.

Sure you can be nice live good yeah then one day ya cross the street and some *******
spoiled brat   teenager  who just got his license runs over your *** cause he's texting sally
asking to see her **** to share e with the rest of the football team okay.

Hey whatever happend to *** drugs and rock n roll kids.
**** living forever.
Lets party now and ***** tommorow cheers I kicked back the last
of the wild turkey hitting that liver like a sledge

The group was silent yet again **** I had crossed the line yet again ahh someone needs a spanking
but enough bout lady gaga.

Sir there leader said leave now!
Just then like something off of saturday night pro wrestling.
A folding chair hit the
hugging preachy nut over the head.

***** this guy the old drunk exclaimed lets go get trashed my life ***** lets get some ***** drugs and
Irene crank the music.

And like something outta a stupid wholsome after school special my heart grew
okay aybe thats a bit much .

We were off like fellow addicts set lose in a world as ******* up as us
And everything was as messed up as us we partyed laughed made some movies of are own that probaly wont be seen on tv anytime soon.

And we lived in the moment cause its all we ever have.
And this perves gonna make sure his is
******* fun stay crazy and avoid the clap love always
Gonzo

If I ruled the world things would be this way:
The Hunger Games would be watched every single day,
Tomorrow When The War Began would be listened to and read,
While others choose to have the figurines next to thier beds,
John Marsden and Suzanne Collins would be the best known authors,
And mothers would go out to dinner once a month with just their daughters.

I would be a rich and famous actor and a poet,
Ellie, Julia and Taylor have talent and I know it,
I just need to figure out the best way for them to show it,
Maybe in acting, writing or singing,
I have no ideas for my bell they are not ringing.

I would stop all war and poverty,
And everyone would have the same amount of property,
I would even out the money for every country,
And have all my fruit and veg hard and crunchy,
Our world would be a multi-cultural, accepting all religions,
One day I would get rid of all televisions.

Swimming would be a sport at school as well as cheerleading and diving,
But everyone would have to take lessons in surviving,
And every day my hair would be curled,
All of this would happen if I ruled the world.

written by maegan cattermull

I'VE NEVER BEEN THAT GIRL ALL THE GUYS BOW DOWN TO.
IVE NEVER ACTUALLY MET A GUY WHO WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR ME.
NEVER BEEN A POPULAR PERSON.
NEVER BEEN PERFECT ON THE INSIDE OUT.
NEVER BEEN HOMECOMING QUEEN.
IVE NEVER BEEN ON A CHEERLEADING TEAM.
NEVER HAD GIRLS THAT WANTED TO BE ME.
NEVER BEEN CALLED PERFECT BY GUYS ON THE VARSITY FOOTBALL TEAM.
I'VE NEVER KISSED KEN.
BUT,
I AM ME.
I'VE BEEN THE GIRL WHO ALL THE GUYS HAVE RESPECT FOR.
I'VE BEEN THE GIRL THAT ALL THE GUYS CALL FRIEND.
I HAVE BEEN THE GIRL THAT HAS HAD IMPERFECT BUT PERFECT GUYS CRUSH ON ME.
I'VE BEEN THE GIRL THAT SPENDS HER WEEKENDS AT THE SKATEPARK OR RIDING DIRTBIKES.
IM THE GIRL THAT HAS SARCASM EVERYONE FEARS TO HEAR.
IM THE GIRL THAT WILL BE TOTALLY HONEST EVEN IF IT WILL HURT YOUR FEELINGS.
IM THE GIRL THAT CAN BE PRETTY.
IM THE GIRL THAT PREFERS SHORTS OR PANTS OVER SKIRTS AND DRESSES.
IM THE GIRL WHO LIKES FISHNETS AND COMBAT BOOTS.
THE GIRL THAT WILL GET CRAZY.
THE GIRL THAT DEFENDS HERSELF AND PEOPLE SHE CARES ABOUT.
I WILL GET IN YOUR FACE IF YOU GET IN MINE.
I WOULD RATHER HAVE ONE SPECIAL GUY THEN HAVE TWENTY FAKE GUYS.
IM THE GIRL THAT RESPECTS YOU IF YOU RESPECT ME.
IM THE HARD HEADED GIRL THAT IS STUBBORN AS HELL.
I DON'T FALL IN LOVE WITH JERKS.
I PLAY HARD TO GET IF I FEEL THAT YOU WANT ME TO BE EASY.
IM THE GIRL THAT WILL KICK YOUR ***  IF YOU MESS WITH ME.

There are leaves under my feet
The trampoline below us echoes our laughter into space
We are in our cheerleading uniforms jumping and jumping and
There are no boundaries in summer or winter or spring and autumn is our favorite
We **** on the roots of purple flowers because we can
Spend our 12 am sleepover restlessness and pocket change at the 711 down the street then
Sneak out to houses of boys who are too much older
We kiss them with juicy fruit mouths and sour tongues from joints we have just learned to smoke
We sacrifice lit paper to our ****** lips and run when our paranoia starts to catch up with us
The first time we drink, it is from our parents unlocked liquor cabinets, their trust for us more lenient than it should be
We swallow too much ***** mixed with orange pineapple juice and it tastes worse the second time around
We quickly learn to calculate how much is enough to send us spinning without emptying the contents of our stomachs
We stay up too late and too often because
There are too many movies to watch too many songs to hear too many memories to be made
I am 12 13 14 15 16
I am freckles and skinny and bitten cuticles and hot pink nails
I am poorly painted mascara and drugstore lipstick
I am football games and smoking bowls and crying from laughing too hard
I am ****** seasonal job and Halloween party and curved figure and first heartbreak
I am weekend adventure and aimless driving and snorting pills and loving strangers and touching bodies that aren't my own
I am reckless, we are
Too young to understand the consequences of our choices that will soon become mistakes
We make so many I forget to note them all down but
Haley's smile in a candid I use for my photography final freshman year is one I do not throw out
Instead I keep it locked in my mind, sitting against a black panel tucked away in my old bedroom
Hers was where we sat as we planned out our dreams for the future
Outlining our intentions on the ceiling above
Talking about who we wanted to kiss and then ****, we told each other too many details when we did
We wore bras that were too slow for the speed of our growing bodies
And black cat costumes to a party whose only theme was alcohol
We loved and got hurt and ate ice cream but mostly we loved
drinking, boys, smoking, cigarettes, each other
We were each other and still are but time and distance have both left tolls on our former relation
I am no longer the kid who never had a fear of heights
I don't jump as high as I used to when I do
I drink now with too much caution, I only take pills prescribed for me
We live on opposite coasts
And there are no leaves for me to step on where I am
Seasons do not change here and I am stuck on years I cannot forget
In a way we are still too young to understand most of what we don't but we still have time before we need to
It is winter again, then spring, then summer
My dear,
Autumn is approaching with patience and a slow speed
She is still our favorite.

"She's my girlfriend!"
he shouted as a boy placed his hands over her mouth and planted a fake kiss on her. His lack of sobriety allowed real rage to fill his eyes and he tackled the kissing boy. As they began to struggle against each other on the sticky hard wood floor that was probably covered by layers of party fouls, she thought, ' he called me his girlfriend. Why would he say that?' Her best friend sitting close by said it out loud
" Oh my gosh dude, he just called you his girlfriend!"
Through this short span the boys were finishing up there tuff and he began to find his seat next to her again. Placing his arms over her shoulder she didn't mind the sweat, or the alcohol. It actually reminded her of most of their nights together. She wanted to kiss him. He was busy talking across the room to an equally as drunk buddy about who the bigger beauty was. She didn't drink. But she didn't mind it. Taking people home was pleasing, plus there was a greater chance of getting him home, with her. The party was picking up. The boys with the I-pod were getting drunk enough to start up their typical loop of songs. Being from Texas she knew that she would be dancing. She loved dancing. Even when the boys she was dancing with were drunk it was fun. Plus, he couldn’t country-dance so she got to dance with others and he was forced to watch. Dancing always reminded her of home, a small rural town in Texas where you could be a outcast and popular all at the same time. She did it all in high school. Cheerleading, sports, theater, you name it she was most likely involved. However, she felt like everyone in town, or majority disliked her. She constantly felt eyes burning on her too white to be here skin. So she left for school out of state, planning on never looking back. She did miss the dancing though. Every prom she made it a point to dance with her father, and to not sleep with her boyfriend.

Having *** on prom night was too cliché.

A boy grabbed her hand. My Maria was blaring through the speakers and it was about time she stood up anyway, the mindless getting nowhere conversation she was having with her friend was only justifying how ****** up her situation was. One of her biggest surprises in moving was that Canadian boys liked country and could dance to it. She never thought a taste of home would come from a drunken kid from Vancouver.  He was a best friend with her interest but that didn’t keep him from pulling her close, so close she could tell that his last drink had just enough whiskey to float the ice cubes.

The party had reached the relaxed stage. Cute petty arguments were filling the air. He stood behind her and grabbed her hand. Surprise ran through her but she couldn’t show it. It’s suppose to happen, maybe he does like you? That was one of her favorite feelings. Brushing hands with someone, or having them grabs yours. The shock, the spark that runs from your finger tips through your stomach and out the top of your head.

Once, when she was young a boy held her hand in the movie theater, cupped, a true moment of tragedy.

Her friend saw what the drunken boy had done and began raving to her about how perfect they looked and how you can’t deny that something was there between them. She had two close friends. One who was somewhat a romantic until she got drunk and proceeded to call every guy within a ten-foot radius an *******. She came to college somewhat naive and with her heart still in a different state. A boy she had liked since high school kept here grounded. She needed to move on but she didn’t see it that way. Her story lead to a car stopping in the middle of the road letting her out to her eventually de-virgining by a, to say the least, experienced Canadian boy who wanted everything but also decided that nothing was good enough.  The other friend, who was more of a realist but still wanted things to turnout a certain way was also there. She haled from California, a sunshine girl who was unbelievably ditzy but unbelievably smart. Speaking her mind was never hard for her. She did make one vital mistake. Believing a European boy when said he was different. The only thing different about him was that he spoke broken English and wore tighter pants than American boys.

She had always been in a group of three, from school to school. There is a comfort in three, even more so for them, not only because they were all above 5' 9" but also because they all wanted the same unattainable thing.

He went home.
He went home with her.

A whirlwind of emotions began to ride up in her. How could you of been so dumb to think that it would work. At least the commotion of getting everyone down the stairs safely took her mind off of the fact that no matter what, he wasn’t going to love her. In the drivers seat she could hear the name-calling and the I can’t believe its being said by everyone. But the three of them knew it didn’t matter. Her willingness to let him come running back was always going to be there.

The next day lead to greasy food and stories of the night before. The futon mattress in the living room sprawled out on the floor laid out the venue for the party talk.

She played on a futon when she was a baby. Her parents have countless pictures of it. Innocent and fragile, not much had changed other than the addition of bitterness.

Why would he say that? She thought again and parked the car in the garage and helped carry the taco bell bags upstairs. She hated taco bell, being from an area around the Mexico border spoiled her pallet. Her friends crunched down talking about how guys are all *****. By now the night before had only faded somewhat in her mind.

He woke up that morning to a girl next to him. She had been awake since eight but let him sleep because it gave her more time with him.  They had a past and that made for great *** but also a girl burned in his eye that wasn’t her.

For him the night never happened.

If she could reverse her thoughts she would. She hated wondering why. She understood him being a 21 year old that wanted to get laid. But why grab her hand? Why act as if you cared for  her. Oh god she thought. It’s so simple.

Its because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

her patience was starting to wear thin, impatience growing as one of the pervs from the table across his eyes preying on her. she gave him the finger and her hardest glare.

where the hell are you  she typed out, texting him

be there in ten i kinda just got out of bed...sorry

she just sighed looking out the glass panes that gave a view of the busy street, letting her thoughts wander. sam was waiting for her bestfriend, noah to show up. she was going to help him find a flower shop that caters black roses. he was going to give it to jean, the girl of his dreams as he liked to call her (sam just knew how much of a cliche he was underneath; they barely had a conversation in which he didn't insert her-sam stuck up with it and listened to him, always assuring him that he's going to get her who wouldnt)

"sorry im late" he says, panting as he arrives, varsity jacket slung in his arms

"you owe me" sam says cooly, ignoring the drum pounding in her chest. he looked like he always did; and gave off the same effect to all the girls in town (he had quite a following though he didn't mind)

playfully he rolls his eyes at sam and the two walk their way into his beat up camaro (which was very good at overheating and taking too long to start)

"bet this thing would come up with its tricks again" sam started with their usual banter

"oh hell no it's got my back"

"your flat back"

"my bootiful ***"

sam scoffed "wanna bet?"

"game on" noah smugly retorts with the smug smirk on his face that showed off his angelic structures

"on three two....." sam had her fingers crossed please don't work please don't

noah tried gunning the engine a few more times, turning the key into the hole over and over again but the engine kept dying. he tried for one more time;it was a miracle that it did. he faced sam who's face turned down into a frown. "ha you owe me now"

"i owe you none" she says slumped in her seat though deep inside she was enjoying this. their friendship had alot of these immature playfulness which she usually started.

"just buy me an extra waffle cone and we're even"

"*******"

noah laughed and sam heard the lilt in his laugh that she grew fondly of. they drove off the road with only the radio to filter the silence for a while. sam started tracing patterns on the car window.

she felt something for noah and it wasn't something she expected, neither was it something she was looking for. the first time they ever interacted was in a class they both had. his eyes had that mischievous spark that day and  he wore a devilish grin-sam thought he was the perfect guy to turn into one of her casualties or better yet get his heart broken. but all they did after class that day was hangout and drive around town. sam was quite shocked with the numerous things they have in common. since then, they've meant alot to each other. although it was different for sam. sometime in their friendship she started feeling something for him, someting more than friends do .she hated it; the thought of it made her want to rev her guts out;

she was never the type to like guys or girls and fantasize about them being together or even feeling the same way. she was the type of girl who played with guys for a night (a week was her longest) whenever she felt like it. she toyed with their hearts and felt satisfied when she saw them with tears in their eyes. she felt no remorse for leaving them in the gutter. she was never vulnerable  she was a heartbreaker. she was that type of girl. but with noah it was all different, it was all new. it was like being on the other side of the spectrum

it frustrated her, all of it. most of all the fact that she couldn't do anything about it. she couldn't just steal him away from jean especially now that he stood a chance. plus, he was serious about her, sam could tell-even if she tried making moves on him, he'd leave because that wasn't how he knew her-they went so well together: her being on the cheerleading squad with her perfect friends and her perfect grades, perfect life ahead and him being the quarterback of the football team and the perfect college waiting for him, heir to his father's company someday-they were the power couple. they deserve each other sam thought bitterly. she could be one of the "perfect" girls in her school if she tried. but she didn't, didn't find the need to because why bother? she'd rather be on the outside and deal with her own company and just resurface whenever she felt like it. he had dreams;she didn't. she was just a heartbreaker, a mess.

yet she didn't want to lose noah; couldn't lose noah-it wasn't a risk she was willing to take. around him she let down the high walls she usually was encaged in and instead had vine trellises wrapping around her almost as if caressing her. it wasn't like in the movies but it was a **** cliche which she felt in gradual waves.she could hear wind chimes in the edges of her nicotine corrupted lungs whenever she was with him and none of the nails splintering against board in the emptiness of her house she felt in the dark while her sister slept soundly in the next room, none of the stale unfamiliarity of her mother working herself thin in her round the clock shifts, staggering home the next morning smelling like alcohol. she felt something other than the hollow in her stomach when she's out partying with strangers, the bass sounding too much like her heart breaking and her existence decomposing. she felt none of the filth she did when she slept with guys and let them make love with their exes through her body. she felt none of all the ugliness, heard none of the monsters' calls. noah made her feel pure. made her feel bliss. there was no irony, no catches, no waiting for the other shoe to drop in what they shared.

some days she's accepted that they'd always remain platonic, that it was better for them to stay this way. but today wasn't one of those days, for it was one where she wanted nothing but to plant her lips against his and make him tell her that he feels the same, for him to wrap her arms around her and bury her face in the crook of his neck, drown in all their memories, become the memories become an us. it wasn't love but he made her feel loved.

her daydreams were cut short when noah parked the car infront of the flower shop near the outskirts of town. she smoothed her hair as noah opened the car door for her. she felt her palms sweat, immediately telling her brain that he was really just sweet and it's jean that he likes stop spewing up hurricanes and thunders for every sweet thing he does.

"so first stop"

"i still don't get why you can't just buy her a bouquet of plain roses and spray paint it black. i'll help out yknow" she replies in her usual mocking way as they enter the shop, the floral fragrance enveloping them.

"because you gotta put all your effort and your heart to get her"

"yeah right, hey you gotta put effort in spray painting too yknow like shaking the can and making sure the roses are all covered. we can cover your heart in black paint as well if we still got any left" she replies sarcastically as they start perusing for black roses.

he rolls his eyes at his best friend, throwing one of the discarded dandelions at her direction. she picks one up and throws it at him quickly. it was only a matter of minutes til they were both on the floor laughing, sneezing in intervals, dandelions scattered around them. the florist scolded them when he saw the mess they caused and made them pay for a daisy and a petunia boquet that was haphazardly upturned in their rowdiness-no black rose in sight.

sam laughed as noah took out his wallet and paid the florist who's face was now red. she heard him mutter a sheepish apology and for a moment, she allowed or tried to let herself get lost in the fact that she and her bestfriend were spending the day together she tried to forget that she was spending the day with him to help him be with the girl that he likes.

When I was little, I stuck scissors into the electrical outlet
something I never would have had the urge to do if my parents hadn't told me it was dangerous
I was a rocket pop, always standing too close to the edge,
always carrying a matchbook in my pocket

I'm not the only one who flirts with death
Death is the quarterback, death is the prettiest ******* the cheerleading team
Death is popular at parties
And when someone seems so out of my reach like that, I tend to romanticize them

So I fantasized about pills that shone like pearls
I envisioned ribs sticking out from my skeletal frame, finally frail enough to ****** the object of my desires
I thought about razor blades scattered like flower petals on the bathroom floor
Etching memento moris into my skin
I dreamed of fenders and pavement rushing up to meet my lips for one last kiss

God, I had the biggest crush on death
But so did everyone else
And I saw them falling further in love as if they were tumbling from a skyscraper
This is not a love poem, this is a goodbye
Because I have instead become infatuated with beautiful things
I am a creator, so I must stop destroying myself

Dear death
I don't want to be just another girl who doesn't look when she crosses the street, hoping to meet you on the other side
I will be okay on my own, and I'll keep the scissors locked up in the craft cabinet

On Wednesday the Supreme Court ruled in the Star Athletica v. Varsity Brandscase, which centered on the issue of copyrighting the chevron, stripe, and other patterns of cheerleading uniforms. To laypeople, this was the case that gave the world the justices’ unforgettable banter about fashion and style. “The clothes on the hanger do nothing. The clothes on the woman do everything. And that is, I think, what fashion is about,” said Justice Stephen Breyer during an argument with Justice Elena Kagan, who responded, “That’s so romantic.” But, to those inside the fashion world, this was a landmark that has potential to resonate in the industry for years to come. Not only is the suit the first time the Supreme Court has ever heard a case centering on apparel design copyrights, but the 6–2 ruling in favor of Varsity Brands allows elements of a garment’s design to be protected by copyright law. In the Court’s syllabus, it declares: “The Copyright Act of 1976 makes ‘pictorial, graphic, or sculptural features’ of the ‘design of a useful article’ eligible for copyright protection as artistic works if those features ‘can be identified separately from, and are capable of existing independently of, the utilitarian aspects of the article.’ ”

To help translate the government legalese, Vogue spoke with Joseph Mueller, a lawyer at Dewey Pegno & Kramarsky LLP, a litigation boutique that regularly handles copyright disputes. Mueller wrote, “The Court decided that copyright law can sometimes protect aesthetic elements of designs for cheerleader uniforms. This sounds straightforward, but a little background shows why this case was complicated. Copyright law protects certain types of artistic and creative expressions. On the other end of the intellectual-property spectrum is patent law, which protects innovations based on their usefulness and novelty. This case dealt with a tricky middle ground: Copyright law can protect aesthetic features of a ‘design for a useful article’—but only if they are distinct enough from the article’s useful or functional aspect.”

But how to define what’s useful and what’s not in a garment? Would you call Craig Green’s many ties and knots functional or decorative? What about Julien Dossena’s linked squares at Paco Rabanne? “There is tons of gray area,” Mueller wrote. “The Court articulated a rule that sounds neat and tidy, but we won’t know precisely how much protection it actually gives designers until other courts apply these principles to other cases.”

In short, this ruling isn’t a blanket statement protecting all designers from knockoffs and copying, but rather it opens the door for making the case that certain parts of design can be protected by copyright. That’s important, especially considering that Congress has discussed expanding copyright protections for fashion designers but has not yet made it into law.

Still, the impact this decision could have on high fashion is great. Not only does it provide luxury houses some ground to defend themselves against fast fashion retailers who churn out replicas of runway designs before the originals hit stores, but it also has the potential to discourage designers from borrowing motifs from their peers or from the past. “Designers have relied mostly on trademarks to protect themselves, but now they can argue that more conceptual, less obvious aspects of their designs should be protected by copyright too,” wrote Mueller. “As with many Supreme Court opinions, it will take some time to know what the practical effect of this decision will be. But there’s no question that it’s a big shift. You can expect to see designers relying on copyright law more often to challenge what they perceive to be knock-offs.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

I read stories of women,
dressed in silk and wool,
quiet, passive, faceless ladies
defined only by their spontaneous romances
with strangers on trains,
who dug out childish notions in their heads,
as they forsook their loving husbands of twenty years
for slick haired young men,
who pretend not to mind their sagging *******.

Madam Bovarys for a modern age.
Afraid of fading youth, dying embers,
bringing up the same high school insecurities,
they felt when their prom date flirted with the cheerleading captain.
And quenching them just as quickly
when they fogged up the windows of his father's car.

But maybe I should keep quiet.
What do I know?
A thin, ******, school girl,
who has known little of passion, but some of love.
And when I learned love, I learned loyalty.

my lipstick
on the mirror

stretch fingertips
toward truest feels

jar the numb

as I smear
the color me
from wrought fists
wringing heart

cheerleading
through conjoined
memoir dreamscapes
forged with helix lips

spinning ourglass
to shift the sands

while I stifle
these cries
steeped
in stab

for the
greatest good

It happened in the 50's.

Nineteen year old **** stars
Drive to the edge of the city
In hopes to lure a cheerleading ******
Onto their prize list
Of testosterone driven pilgrimages

Girls would fault hearts
Rapt in their own justifications

It happened in the 50's.

i want you to come home.
i sit,
drunk and drinking,
******* the last hit off of cigs you smoked
days ago...

i want you to come home.

but you are miles away,
flashing that grin
at the girls who were always
conisdered your type.

painted bubbly bright blond
rays of sunshine that  just can't wait to
tell you of their highschool cheerleading years...

i want you to come home.

but your out
buying drinks and promising to save a dance
or two.

and it's ok with me cause i have
books that need reading
and games that need playing...

you say not to worry cause in the end
you always come home.
i try and ignore the purfume thats not mine
and the numbers you kept for a laugh.

i should have known better
loving you as hard as i do...
how could i last?

i was on the yearbook staff in highschool.

End all obligatory cheerleading
take a sober look at life
animals ****** into existence
cursed with awareness
we yearn daily for meaning
only to be buried under an avalanche
of tasks we would not choose
if only we could design our own world
without this incessant need to eat and ****
with only hope to stitch together
the stories we were raised on.

it is not just pink for girls
and blue for boys
or laundry for moms
and desk jobs for dads.

it is self confidence plummeting
because your nine year old legs
look different than the others

girls aren’t supposed to be hairy.

it is watching the cheerleading team
through the windows of the gymnasium
hoping the other kids don’t see you

boys are supposed to play basketball.

it is being called bossy
for voicing your ideas
to say what you believe in

girls are supposed to be quiet.

it is a lack of empathy
from years of quieting
your emotions

boys aren’t supposed to cry.

it is being placed in a box
that is too small and
being told to cut off your legs
so you can fit inside it

we are not contortionists.

S-P-A-R-T-A-N-S
this chant has been
emblazoned on your prefrontal cortex for
years yet, and you'll bear it
upon your chest for years yet and
yet: you aren't certain
what it's all meant, whether it's been
Worth Your Time
and in this way, cheerleading has become
stand-in for
every boy who's let you down
month after month after month.

too bad you can't
unlearn their habits or
unfire the synapses they triggered;
too bad you can't
hop in a delorean to
unwind the time you spent with them.

but if you could:
would you?

She begins to gather her hair,
making sure not to miss
a single fiery tendril and
secures the strands with
her favorite yellow hair tie
that she can wrap around
her thin stream of hair
nearly four times.
She’s afraid
The worn circlet of elastic
Might snap soon.

The widening yellow band
has known six years
of hairstyles:

the super high tail
worn while cheerleading
back in high school
that waved like a flag while
jumping in unison into the splits-

the tie off to the side
of the base of her neck
holding back her perfectly curled twists
for her first date with her
future husband-

the sensible low tail
that she wore to the job
she hated
as a librarian
because it was not what she wanted to do.
She wanted to write.

The glued in place up-do
She wore to her wedding.
Her mother cried
Because of how beautiful she looked.

The first time
he didn’t show
to the poetry reading
she worked
so hard to get into.

The late nights of
being tied in a messy, asymmetrical bun
when he claimed to be
working late
but she knew he was with someone else.

To now,
when she is leaving him
with her hair half up.

But as she gathers
her hair one last time,
the bind snaps.
Instead of searching for another
she decides
to let her tresses
flow, cascading down her back.

I'd just like you to know I do remember everything
From the first day until the last.
I remember that you were wearing a gray t shirt
Jeans, and a black jacket when we met.
The date was January 6, 2012.
We met at a basketball game at the high school.
You were there for wrestling
I was there for cheerleading.
I remember hearing you make snide comments
Just audible enough for the person intended to hear.
I remember being captivated by those blue eyes.
I remember the last words you said to me
Harsh and unforgivable
But of course, I had already accepted the apology
I knew would be coming my way.
Because, ****, I remember everything.

Replaying what their saying praying they bring light to this white uptight insightful wannabe rapper
Cracking the code attacking the slackers taking wack swings trying to use the Clapper dressed dapper
Like Versace shoestrings singing like ODB making sure my breaths clean, it’s my upbringing two parent
Household got no gold but I make you mind blown rocking rhymes about frog and toad I’m road worn
And born weary love oregon’s rain, dreary love to read Beverly Cleary like Ramona wasn’t cheerleading
A future bare back ******* posing as a children’s reader more like a chicken head feeder yet sweeter
Cold toes in the morning gotta find a slipper pull up my cargo pants, can’t find the zipper feeling like
Jack Tripper …. its slipperier the ***** to attacking Iraq with most black troops a whole new set of roots
The truth is uncouth like jerking off in a telephone booth *** shooting on yellow pages gobs coating
Everyones names strangers in cages with rage faces and misplaced hate…******* ingrates –

It’s me, the one nerd
Yes, who you used to throw your
hand made paper planes when I was concentrated in the books,
then pass your homework like I was your personal tutor
And made me cry on my way
back to home

It’s me, the fat
Yes, who you did not consider for cheerleading team just
because I was out of shape
And made me cry on my way
back to home

It’s me, the gay
Yes, who you used to beat up in the locker room for being
attracted to the same gender.
And made me cry on my way
back to home.

It’s me, the differently abled
Yes, who you used to punch,
slap, toss
anytime you wanted to do so.
And made me cry on my way
back to home


Listen to this, bully
It came to our mind, many times
to **** ourselves
because of the humiliation and the pain. but at our home door, we stood,
wiped the tears
because can’t show mama
that we were weak
and dad that we couldn’t stand for ourselves.

we did survive through, alive
but with remarks and scars
and with a shattered heart
-ache

So from the top when I first met you, I remember the first time I met you and wish I could have with been with you, It was at a cheerleading competition or close to it, I saw you and I was with Henry and Chicago. I never spoke up because I didn't even know you. But came school and we met, I remembered our pumpkin fight and how we sat outside on the trampoline watching the stars, how we went the the fair around Halloween time and remember while all the people going to the fair are passing the car and when I was changing in the car, and remember most of all being happy. Your the only one who's never truly hurt me. I've hurt you but not in a way I ment to do. I have no clue the pain I caused to you. To be trapped, forgotten, to be an outcast, just trying to be normal. All the distress I have been swamped on you have been buried upon just worse. If I could change the past I would. There's some things I never go to do for you the only one who could be faithful to me and feel like you loved me too. i want to explain so much but at the same time lets just hang out. I want to be able to help you in any way I can. Doesn't matter if I have to come get you and spend a few hours, I mean cmon I'm not that bad!