Sometimes I write Stories. This one Is Called "Arienette"

"'Don't go,' I guess is what I should have said, but instead I stayed silent and made a half-assed attempt as grabbing your elbow to turn you around. It didn't make a difference, though, since you turned around anyway and looked at me with a sort of plea for me to say something. Anything. But I didn't. I should have told you not to go. But instead I stayed silent. Anyway, you turned and looked at me and I just shut my eyes. And you turned back towards the door and walked out, I could already hear you starting to cry and it ruined my attempts at telling myself I was right and you were wrong. But I just drew a deep breath and shut the door. Before you made it onto the street I was already leaning on the door. I suppose it was more like sitting at the door, but I was still on my feet. And  uh... And you stood there for a second. Hoping, I guess, that I'd open the door and say 'Don't go.' or that I'd say anything but that's unimportant, because I didn't open the door. And I didn't yell at you to stay. I didn't... I didn't...um... Didn't say anything. I just sat at the door and cried a little bit.

"And I guess if maybe I had said something, or grabbed you, or not opened the door for you to leave, or not shut it so quickly, or never... Never had fought with you that you'd still be here. Still be...Be right here. And instead of wandering out onto the sidewalk, I could have drove you. Or walked you. But that didn't happen and now it doesn't matter anyway. 'Cause... Everything happened the way it did and you crossed the street and he ran the red light and you... well... You aren't here.

"Do you remember how you always told me that I put too much blame on myself, when most things were beyond my control entirely? And that I always thought that when a fast food restaurant messed up our order it was because I wasn't, um... wasn't speaking clearly. And you would always do that thing where you played with my ear and say 'Ry it's okay... Things are gonna be fine.' And you would smile at me because I was letting too much effect me and you would say 'I'll just have lettuce on my burger.' and that would be that... They all think that this is one of those times. But I can't bring myself to believe that it wasn't all my fault, so I guess that should be a sign that it really is one of those times but oh well...

"I brought you that hat you liked, and my shirt... They're going to let me bury them with you. And a necklace. And I don't think that I'll ever have another girlfriend because I don't really think I'll be capable of loving someone else but if I do then I'm sorry..."

He took a pause and said a few more words.

"I think I'll be joining you soon."

Should I be afraid that maybe they all know who I am?
Like how they know me by name, first and last.
and keep a close eye on me.
and keep me busy.

like how they know that i'm crazy?
what if she told them and they're making sure I don't like... kill someone. or something. that would suck.

I might.

My One Good Thing

I spent so long afraid of falling in love, and being saved that I avoided the possibility, and instead forced myself into relationships, thereby hurtling into a (seemingly) endless spiral of sadness and pain. So when someone told me that I too can be turned into an actually good person I refused to believe it, but God sent me an angel.

Well, the God there would be if there was one.

Regardless, he sent me an angel, someone to pull me out of this hole I dug for myself. She's a very very cute little girl who looked in the mirror while everyone was yelling at her "Don't do it, he's an asshole, he'll only hurt you." she looked in the mirror and said "Fuck the rules.
Fall in love."

So there.

There is something we can all learn.
We all have problems with people saying what's normal, and saying what to do.

Guys cant love guys.
You're too old for her.
He's too young for her.
She's poor.
He's black.

FUCK THE RULES.
fall in love.

Dear UCs

This system doesn't work for me. I don't learn like the rest of them. All this "write an essay, stop when the work bell rings" shit isn't good enough for me. I'm not being taught, I'm being held back. No child left behind, but i'm not going to wait for him to catch up. This prompt said to avoid use of creative writing, because school isn't a place to express individuality, right? Like god forbid I be fucking different. Nobody successful broke any rules. Follow the format like a good little boy. Because anyone can obey the guidelines, but it takes the truly gifted to break the rules and still succeed. What we are supposed to write is not an essay, it is a contract, selling my body to the people who are trying to steal my mind. But I'm not writing that. I'm a bird, I'm free, different, better, smarter maybe. But do you look at me, the urban poet, without a scoff or shaken head? Do you think I can still make something of myself even with all my Ds and Fs? Ever stop to think that maybe those classes are some of my strongest subjects, and my GPA of 2.03 is a statement? it says "I'm not like you. I am the thinkers of tomorrow, for I 2 am fr3e." Why do I, a rebel, a person who doesn't agree want to go to a university? Another school. Another prison for free though. Because college is different. It is a safe haven for individuality. We don't have to fall for the trap.

I grew up in a bad household. My dad hit my mother, my mother hit us, we hit each other and so on and so forth. My father took to drugs as his escape, my mother left him and my sisters and brothers left me. So I was abandoned. So I decided drugs would be my escape too. Drugs and becoming the same man as my father. When my friends and girlfriend decided that they had had enough of me being an all out bad person, they decided that it was time to fix me, and so fix me they did. Being sober for 2 years and having not physically hurt a girl in a few months is a big step for me, I feel like a better person. And maybe I am. My mom isn't proud of a single thing I've done, because my grades are bad. My grades aren't good enough for colleges to even look in my direction. But that's a mistake. My grades don't reflect my intelligence. My mom says "Don't make excuses, excuses are for politicians." Maybe I want to be a politician, maybe I want to prove my mom wrong.

Going to college would be a huge step for me, especially a university. Every time I think about graduating high school, I panic. It's a bit calming, having my entire day set up for me. Not being able to (or having to) make any decisions is a bit secure. I don't ever have a day where I go "Now what?" but after I leave high school, I'm afraid that's what will happen. Not if I have somewhere else to go. Somewhere else to go, means that again, I get to do things without thinking. I hope that I get into a UC, for the simple reason that I'll prove to a lot of people that it's not impossible. You just have to set your goals. Being able to express myself without having to go out of my way to make plans will be a great thing, also. Whatever though, all I know is, you've more than likely stopped reading. So fine. Toss my paper aside and send me a generic "We don't want you" letter. Just remember that we, the free thinkers, are not to be cast aside. We're supposed to be accepted.

Breathe in.
The media idolizes idiot guidos.
I'm at home wondering if i've still got a mind.
Breathe out.
The world is plagued with nuclear weapons.
I've got a spider staring at me from across the room.
Breathe in.
Everybody competes to see who's better dressed.
I'm still wondering if I'll ever get fucked up enough to kill myself.
Breathe out.
"Do you blaze?"
I wonder why my mind won't let me.
Breathe in.
"I love you."
You say things you don't mean, but urban poetry splashed across factory walls and brick buildings by spray cans scream nothing but the absolute truth. They say 'I'll get you, you can't run'
Breathe out.
You tell me to pull the trigger.
I'm still looking for the fucking gun.
Breathe in.
Kids dead on pavement tell me to keep on walking.
My feet tell me to contemplate jumping.
Breathe out.
You point at me and tell me I've got nowhere to go.
I don't fucking doubt it.

Maybe I'm crazy for the sheer pleasure of going totally fucking insane.