Solivagant

There he was sitting in his room, the lights were low and the traffic loud but his mind was thinking too fast to even notice. With tear-stained cheeks and a heavy heart he picked up his pen and wrote it all down. He wrote down the pain and he wrote down the sorrow, letting the words on the paper unscramble his thoughts. To a stranger he'd look frantic, almost desperate. As if writing on that paper would fix every problem he's ever had. And to him, it would. He stopped writing and looked down at the page, looked down at his master piece and a bittersweet smile crept onto his face. Gently, he laid it back down and picked up his guitar. It was old and had some cracks, but with a shaky hand he begun to strum a perfect melody. The broken boy began to sing and the world faded out. There was no more traffic noise, the fan that had been buzzing as it moved suddenly stopped, and it was just him. Just the broken boy and his broken guitar.

I remember the day I woke up as clear as can be. I felt the blood rush through my veins, the blinking of my eyes, the movement of my arms, the thump thump thump of my heart. I felt it all. It felt almost as if i had just woken from a sleep of a millions years and I was finally able to feel the sunlight on my back again. After feeling it all I had to look around, but it seemed like I was the only one. The only one alive whilst the others stayed wooden, incapable of movement. I remember the fear I felt thinking I had been there alone. But then, the sound of something so beautiful and soft, like wind chimes being blown on a warm summer afternoon rang throughout the room. Someone else was waking up, I saw them across the chamber, looking down at the flow of their arms and the dancing of their feet the rat-tat-tat,  just like I did. I had stared for a while when they looked up and finally saw me. I could tell they hadn’t expected to me. They ducked behind a small piece of funiture an...

There's a letter in my notebook from when I was young It reads, "I need to go mom, if I don't I'll kill myself" I wrote this not because she was a bad mom But because I felt like the worst daughter I used to pick up razors and drag them along my skin As if I were painting the Sistine Chapel I did this not because I liked the feeling But because I just could not feel My whole life I would do things not because of others But because of myself I attacked and hurt myself thinking it was all my fault I got raped by five guys when I was 10 I went home and locked it up in my mind not even thinking about it for the next 7 years I kept quiet, not because I was afraid of them but because I was ashamed as if it were my fault That's the thing "My fault"? Why did I put these ideas into my head It wasn't my fault It wasn't my fault

If you guys want something interesting to hear, my absolute favorite poem is To This Day  by Shane K. If you're ever feeling alone or like you just can't do it anymore, this will help! If you would like to see more of my picture you could to my photography website  and if you feel like reading another good blog,  TyTy's Universe  is a good one to read. (:

EXTERIOR PARK - AFTERNOON SCENE 1 (We see two small kids at the park. One is a girl sliding down slides with a nice dress on, while a small flower crown rests on her head. The boy who is just sitting in a swing, reading a Magic Treehouse book, is wearing jeans, a regular T-shirt, and some Converse. After a bit, the girl gets bored playing by herself and walks up to the boy. At first, the boy just ignores her, hoping she'd go away so he could finish reading the book. Once he realizes that she won't go away, he bends the corner of the page before closing his book and looks up at her. The girl smiles and shoves her hand towards him) LILY Hi! I'm Lily!  HARRY          (Reluctantly he grabs her hand, shakes it gently, then puts his hand back on his lap) I'm Harry.                             ...