10 - radioactive, pt. 1

It is all gray.

Around me, people stagger aimlessly, coughing, pressing their oxygen masks to their face. The heavy smog is wrapped around the city, weighing down the sky with pollution. When I look toward the tall buildings of the downtown area, I can only see for a few hundred feet before the rest of the area fades into fog. And when I look upward, all I can see is the thick black dust filling the sky. There is no sunlight here – nothing that I can feel. Just a milky light filtered through the smog.

But I am infinite.

I stand up on my tiptoes, reaching up with empty fingers, stretching towards the broken sky. Then I step forward and lift off the ground. I soar upward. The wind whips at the tail of my shirt, and I breathe in the air, gasp for it, take more deep breathes than I have in years. My dream self doesn't need to wear a mask to breathe.

I pause when I reach the peak of the tallest building, hanging there in a dark cloud, a massive ghost that covers everything.

I'm waking up to ash and dust

I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust

I'm breathing in the chemicals

This is it – the apocalypse.

9 - valley island story

they say she used to live in the valley

between the mountains surrounded by the sea.

islands are better for reclusive types.

she wore white,

believing it was the color if passion.

she was passionate about many things.

he had wings.

he liked to sail on the updrafts from the balmy sea air

paperwhite feathers spread in greeting.

boats are hard to float in

when your guilt will make you sink.

the black water will lap at your black heart

she always knew what she had done.

so she stood in her cottage, 

white draperies surrounding,

not facing what had happened

borne back ceaselessly against the black water current.

bird boy.

angel boy.

snowy wings and pale face,

ebony hair and inky blood.

borne back ceaselessly against the white wind.

she spun things with her fingers,

long and lythe.

glittering gossamer fabrics,

shattering spinneret songs.

he landed on the porch,

against the sandalwood.

shattering spinneret songs

pounding on his obsidian eardrums.

"i'm not ready!" she told

her angelic executioner.

"there's more i have to do."

he shook his onyx head.

"i don't make bargains."

the starless blade was ready in his fingers. 

"i'll make a trade with you,"

she said earnestly.

as if she didn't understand 

that trades and bargains are nearly the same.

it was really a deal in the end.

her life

for 365 turnings of shattering spinneret songs.

for 365 turnings

he landed on the on the porch,

against the sandalwood.

for 365 turnings

the island heard the music

of shattering spinneret songs.

and for 365 turnings

she and he 

forged something.

and his blood became less inky,

his hair a little less ebony,

their hearts a little less hopeless,

her black water clearer,

his obsidian eardrums lighter,

her white dress a little more bright.

and it came to be 

365 turnings had passed.

"i'm not ready!" she told

her angelic executioner.

"neither am i,"

said he.

so they ran.

against the current,

borne back ceaselessly against the past.

8 - this is the last post about it i promise

   I recently attended a wonderful birthday party. We played cops and robbers and I ate, like, five cupcakes and we watched Howl's Moving Castle. 

   Afterward, we went to the mall. I got some cool brush markers, which I am about to try out. I read a good amount of Ranger's Apprentice no.5, The Sorcerer of the North. Another friend and I sniffed almost all the candles in the Yankee Candle store. I want to raid that place. I got a minty milkshake thing from McDonald's. We found a book in Barnes and Noble's that creepily relates to our lives. We visited Wet Seal and American Eagle. 

  Then we went Aeropostale. 

  I've never been there before, and my friends wanted me to see it. So we walked in. And guess who was there? Her. Yes, her. My best friend who apparently left me so she could spend the rest of her life snuggling or whatever with her boyfriend, so it seems. Of course he was with her. Not like they ever spend any time together.  Her mom was there as well, spouting some stuff about how sorry she was that she never replies to my mom's calls and how they missed/forgot about the scheduled dinners and mall trips and blatant attempts at restoring our friendship that I had made with Celeste. Yeah, Celeste. That's what I'll call her for now.

So this is what happened. My thoughts during the events are in italics. What I said is in normal font.

I enter from stage left, stage left representing the front of the store. Celeste, Celeste's Mom (CM) and Celeste's Boyfriend (CB) enter from stage right, stage right representing the back of the store. 

Me: (thinking) oh my god they had to be here they had to ruin my day didn't they

Celeste: Hey, girrrl!!!!1111!

Me: you have to use that term with me? as if we're still friends, as if nothing ever happened between us? Oh, hi.

CB: (stares at me vapidly)

Celeste: I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts earlier! My phone is dead! (laughs) I dropped it in water or it got wet or my dog ate it or I simply ignored your messages or some other lame excuse!!!!11!

Me: Oh, that's okay. It's totally not okay.

CM: I'm so sorry I haven't replied to your mom's phone calls! (laugh laugh laugh ohsofunnyhaha laugh) We've been so busy! Life just gets so busy, you know!!!!

Me: Yeah, I know. You're too busy for me, even though I'd always make time for you. That's okay.

Celeste: Well, it was really nice seeing you!!!!!!!

Me: wait what

Celeste, CM, and CB prance toward stage left and disappear. They are gone. They do not look back.

Me: (watches them go. Begins walking toward stage right, looking behind me every few moments, unable to leave that they left so quickly.)

Me: what but but are you just going to leave did you really just leave what what why are you doing this to me enejskejhakehjskaehsaesaesaesa

Me: (continues walking toward stage right, punching in a phone number, my throat hardening.)

My mom: (answers from other line) Hello?

Me: You'll never believe who I just saw at the mall.

My mom: Who?

Me: (unable to speak. gathers up resolve) Camden.

My mom: What?! What did she say?

Me: (silent.)

Me: (gasps for air. cannot breathe.)

Me: (begins to cry.)

Me: (cannot speak.)

Me: She just… left. And he was there and her mom was there and they just left they just left me here like they didn't even care - (cries.)

Mom: Alright. We'll talk about this when we get home. You're going to have to make some decisions. Don't cry, honey. Try to have fun with your friends.

Me: (tearfully) Bye, then. (hangs up. cries.)

Then my friends were there and they helped because they are wonderful friends. Thank you, wonderful friends. <3 

But I'm just. . . really a;hsahdohasdasihd;h god, I'm just so upset I don't understand. I mean nothing to her anymore. Nothing. I thought we were friends. I thought I thought I thought. None of my thoughts ever mean anything when it comes to her, do they? They're always wrong. I'm always wrong. She doesn't care about me anymore.

I can't do this anymore. I'll talk about it later.   

7 - rooftop dancer, pt.1

   Calla was a dancer, and dancers took risks. This had never really been a problem for her.

   At age sixteen, her life revolved around her art. Short and slim, long-limbed and petite, she moved and breathed ballet. It was all that occupied her mind, ever since she began taking ballet classes at age four. She had always loved leotards, tutus, slippers, lights, glitter, applause. She lived from performance to performance - she lived to twirl under the hot bright lights, exerting herself into becoming something exotic and alien. She lived to hear the roaring cheers of the crowd, to feel the pride bursting from her as she bowed over in thanks, extending her arms gracefully to the side. If she wasn't dancing, life felt like a dull, lethargic limbo. Her grades were important, she supposed, but her dreams were more so. And she wasn't going to stop chasing them down.

     The rising sun brought startling light to the metal and glass utopia that was New York City, leaving its inhabitants hissing and ready for their first cup of coffee. Calla awakened to the warm sunbeams on her face, and she sat up, pushing the white duvet cover down to the foot of the bed. Her alarm clock's neon green letters spelled out the time - 7:00 A.M. It was Saturday. She was ready to face the day.

6 - siblings and hitler

My brother and I have never really been close. I mean, we've been close, I guess, but he's always been rather aggressive, and I'm the total opposite. I know he loves me or whatever, but he's friends with a lot of my friends, and those friends of mine often pass on little snippets of things that he says about me when I'm not around. These things often hurt my feelings. "He thinks you're weird!" "He thinks you need to get a boyfriend!" And I, of course, being the quiet kind of person who likes to avoid conflict, have never confronted him about this. Even though I do complain about him to my friends sometimes, I would never blatantly insult him or gossip about him. He's my brother. I got really freaked out when my friends started speculating who he was dating. I was just like HELLO I'M HIS SISTER AND I'M SITTING RIGHT HERE HOW COULD YOU SAY TO MY FACE THAT YOU THINK HE'S HOT THAT IS WEIRD. It's only recently that we've been developing a relationship that feels right. He told me a secret today. Something that he doesn't want my mom to know about. (It's not serious, just a funny little thing that our mom would freak out over because she's our mom.) And I'm just really happy that he, like, confided in me, because he's never done that before.

It also just so happens that he's leaving for university in the fall. 

I don't think I'm really taking it hard. When I think about it, I don't really feel sad or anything. It's just something that's going to happen. I'll be sad when it happens, but I can't see myself pining over it. Not yet, at least.

So anyway. Today I had a test over Elie Wiesel's memoir Night, which is about the Holocaust. While studying, I started surfing Wikipedia, and I found my way to the article about Adolf Hitler after starting out at an article about the Giant Anteater. I learned that Hitler got married 40 hours before he died and that there is actually a baby picture of him on Wikipedia. 

Look at that face. I find it so strange that he was once a sweet child just like we all were, someone whose mother held his hand and washed his hair and loved him, only to grow up and be corrupted beyond recognition. It just makes me wonder how many babies living in the world right now will grow up to become evil dictators.

4 - feelings?

I saw Titanic for the first time yesterday, and it crushed my feelings. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day today.

Yesterday was also my brother's birthday. We went to The Melting Pot with one of his friends, and it was amazingly delicious. I tasted duck. It has this intrinsic cinnamon flavor to it. My brother is eighteen now, a legal adult. He's leaving for college in the fall. It'll be like I'm an only child or something. I already see my mom cry about it every other day, even though she knows I'll still be here. Still here for two more years that I hope will be bearable. I just really want this school year to end. I want to focus more on art, because I rarely have time to use my tablet.

I've been feeling kind of lonely lately.

On Friday evening I spent some time with a few friends. We sat around a campfire and everyone started talking about themselves and soon everyone was crying. I realized that there's so much sadness, so much pain in the world, even if someone appears to have it all together.

I don't want to go back to school tomorrow. Or ever.

I got this wonderful two-toned candle today, and it's currently burning on my dresser.

It's been a while since I gathered the effort to put something in my 2013 happy jar.

3 - varagane behind the gate

  “No,” Enmiel told me, brown eyes flashing like they always did when she was indignant. “It's not safe out there. You know that.”

  I rolled my eyes and looked away, clenching my fists. “But I'm almost done with my training!” I said in exasperation. I was sick of my older sister always trying to shelter me. I wasn't a baby anymore – I had nearly come of age. “You're not going to be able to tell me what to do forever, you know.”

  She glanced at me as we walked. The expression on her face seemed amused. “Well, maybe not. But for the time being, you're not allowed to go past the gate because I don't want you to.”

  “Fine,” I spat. I turned on my heel and ran back in the direction I had come from, my feet slamming into the ground as I dodged among the people crowding the village. I avoided any familiar faces, not wanting to talk to anyone. I was heading home, and that was that.

  “Hey! Varagane! Are you coming?” Called a voice. I stopped abruptly, and my best friend, Darren, slammed into me. He laughed and stepped back. “I'm sorry. What did your sister say?”

  “I'm not allowed,” I growled, anger pulsing through me. “What else is new?”

An apologetic look flashed across his face. “Oh. Well, I'm sorry, Varagane,” he said softly. His dark red hair was sticking up in all directions, and he brushed a gloved hand through it absentmindedly.      “Maybe next time you can come with us.”

   “Yeah, sure,” I snapped, a sinking feeling resolving itself in my chest. “Go on with out me. Whatever.”

  Darren bit his lip as if he were about to say something. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd, running off to join his other friends.

  I ran away. I didn't know where I was going; just away. I was so tired of being left behind because my sister was an overprotective jerk. I was also tired of my friends going off without me, as if it was okay for me to be left alone and bored and upset. I wish for once that they would just stay with me. They knew that I had never been allowed to go past the gate. It wasn't like that was going to change soon.

   I scaled the familiar old tree that led to our home, the treehouse where I had lived for as long as I could remember. Instead of entering it, I crawled along a thick branch that extended into the sky, perching myself at the end. There, I sulked. There was nothing else to do, anyways. Soon the sky darkened and the stars came out. I could feel the adventures they were having without me.