Prologue- Not Like me

“..And this is where you’ll be living for the next few years.” The old lady, whose name I did not know, said as she handed me a pair of pajamas that everyone else had been wearing since they moved here. She pointed down the hallway, guiding me to where the room was. We all had to share rooms with each other. Well, the younger kids did. I was a bit on the older side being at the age of 16, so I didn’t have to share a room with anyone, thankfully. I was always shy with strangers so I thought it best to have a room all to myself. I muttered a quiet ‘thank you,’ to the lady who handed me a key to my room as I took it out of her hands and slowly dragged myself down the hallway.

 

I unlocked the room and knocked twice out of habit. After two seconds of silence, I opened the door about an inch and peeked inside. The room was empty.

 

I walked inside and sat the pajamas that were handed to me earlier on the bed that was made neatly. I sat the only bag that I had brought down on the floor right next to the bed. All that was in it was a few outfits, my favorite book (which I had read many, many times), and a few miscellaneous items.

 

I sat on the bed and looked at the clock. From far away, it looked normal and fine.. but up close, you could see how if there was even a slight shake in the structure of the building, the clock could fall at any second and shatter from the impact. If I shuffled too fast, the legs of the bed could crack in half and break from underneath me.

 

To be honest, I was horrified. Not of any pain or anything breaking, just in general. Horrified of life; horrified of being in this home.

 

It’s already six in the evening. This is when they serve dinner. I wasn’t really hungry though; the anxiety was eating my stomach from the inside out. I laid my suitcase flat on the ground and unzipped the sides before I was able to gaze among the insides. I sighed looking at a few of the family pictures I had packed.

Continue reading

Writing

Writing is  something that you cherish throughout your years,

and look back upon later in your life.

It’s an easier way to express your feelings

and it just feels right.

When the words start flowing out of you,

everything comes naturally.

It’s something you can’t take for granted,

because it may someday save your life.

 

Like a suicide note that someone leaves,

telling their family that they’ll be alright.

Then hanging themselves in their closet,

in the silence of the night.

 

Like that song on the radio,

that makes you go into tears.

And then you go forgive someone,

that you’ve had a grudge with for years.

 

Like that verse in the bible,

that reminds you that you’re loved.

That there’s someone who cares for you,

in the giant kingdom above.

 

Like that note your boyfriend gave you,

telling you that he’s done.

When all you really thought

is that you finally found “the one”.

 

So next time you get a note,

whether from your family or a friend,

cherish that person’s writing

until your untimely end.

You never know if it’s their last day,

or if it’s actually yours,

so cherish every word you see,

especially if it isn’t yours.

 

By: Aly Whiteman 🙂

Writing

Writing is  something that you cherish throughout your years,

and look back upon later in your life.

It’s an easier way to express your feelings

and it just feels right.

When the words start flowing out of you,

everything comes naturally.

It’s something you can’t take for granted,

because it may someday save your life.

 

Like a suicide note that someone leaves,

telling their family that they’ll be alright.

Then hanging themselves in their closet,

in the silence of the night.

 

Like that song on the radio,

that makes you go into tears.

And then you go forgive someone,

that you’ve had a grudge with for years.

 

Like that verse in the bible,

that reminds you that you’re loved.

That there’s someone who cares for you,

in the giant kingdom above.

 

Like that note your boyfriend gave you,

telling you that he’s done.

When all you really thought

is that you finally found “the one”.

 

So next time you get a note,

whether from your family or a friend,

cherish that person’s writing

until your untimely end.

You never know if it’s their last day,

or if it’s actually yours,

so cherish every word you see,

especially if it isn’t yours.

 

     By: Aly Whiteman 🙂

Me, Myself, and I by Elliott Marlowe

My mind bursting of ideas with everything and anything rushing through my brain. I let the child inside of me run around poking my teenage-self who is complaining to my adult-self. People like to be with others because they think it keeps us civilized, but in my mind I find every different versions of everyone then I will never be lonely and I also will never be alone. Write what you care about because when you and yourself is written on a piece of paper then they maybe famous someday.

 

Tick Tock

Tick tock, tick tock. Pacing around my room thinking of what to write. Life was very fragile, like the beam of a flashlight. First your life is surrounded by darkness and in the blink of an eye it becomes something beautiful. No one really knows how I got an A on my essay, but  school’s another story. Writing comes easily to me like flipping a page in a book. When my pencil hits the page I’m fighting fire breathing dragons, or swinging on vines through the jungle with Tarzan. It takes me to a whole nother world like grabbing Peter Pan’s hand and flying off you Neverland. When i look at the clock 2 hours had past. Tick tock, tick tock.

Why are you here? by Creative Writing Club 2013-2014

My head is filled with so many things so why not

put them on paper?

My brain is a pretty chaotic place.

Writing brings me: focus,

tranquility,

answers…

 

In club I don’t have to think,

the writing just comes to me.

This is like my safe place to write

 

Writing for a newspaper isn’t for me.

I enjoy writing poems

Writing has always made me

happy…I can never finish stories though.

I’m not the best speller in the world…

I had virtually no sleep

working on writing and

waiting for club to start again.

I write all the time. I keep a journal.

 

I enjoy you as a teacher.

 

I haven’t been able to write much lately but

it’s my passion and I know

it is what I’m meant to do with my life.

 

I feel like I’m better at writing than talking.

Because sometimes voices aren’t enough.

I can hold my emotions up,

and tear them apart.

 

My mom realized how into writing I was (last year)

and she wanted to read my writing.

My favorite thing in the world is words

and books

and artworks

and writing.

I love to use my creative mind.

 

What kind of question is that?

That’s witch talk,

WITCH TALK.

JK I know you’re not.

 

I want to be published,

Mrs. Hallet found my blog

and said I was meant for this class.

I have been working on a book for a year

and a half.

I’m in a band and I’m working on a book.

I need help keeping and finishing a story.

 

I want to inspire people I want to

CHANGE THE WORLD.

It calms me down

when I get mad/sad.

 

This is a good environment

for writing,

to get inspiration,

to give inspiration.

I write to inspire others to overcome fear

 

I don’t think I could go a day without writing.

 

I would like to hear about how other people are feeling,

how they are.

I want to read others’ creations.

 

I prefer to be called

Princess Shyan,

but okay.

It’s a place I can be funny and weird.

 

I’m here because my friend told me to join

and it’s fun

but its crowded in here

so I think I’ll leave

NO OFFENCE TO YOU,

You’re a great teacher.

 

I’m in this club to let you see

the inside essence of me.

 

You are the second person who has seen

the real me.

Personal Memoir

Occasionally I can’t hear even my own thoughts. Everything races through so abnormally fast, that an individual thought doesn’t last more than a split second. That’s why I write. Why not just place the things in my head on paper? Seems logical enough. I can honestly say that I despise the word, “hobby.” Every single year, without fail, the teachers, and I literally mean every teacher, asks, “what are your hobbies?” Personally writing, to me, isn’t a hobby, it’s my passion. When I can’t think straight, I pick out of my pool of randomized thoughts, what inspires me. I’ll be completely honest, my inspiration today was my over excitement/disappointment towards this guy. He’s literally taking over my thoughts. His name is up there floating around with the verb endings of french. My head would probably be a rather frightening area to encounter actually. There is legitimately so much going on. It’s kind of like this:

Picture a mariachi band attempting to out play a punk rock group, with a trio of dancers trying to learn a new number, and the cast of Dance Moms screaming 24/7. It’s rather insane from time to time, but that’s how I prefer it. When my thoughts aren’t going insane, it’s simply, well, awkward. Even now, while I just sit here, my thoughts seem at an all time high. So when asked why I write, usually my response is something like this:

Writing isn’t a hobby, it’s a way of life. Why do you breathe?  

–Angie Wood

Expression

Art Is a great way to express yourself. You could paint a picture of beautiful rose petals connected to the delicate stem using soft pastel colors. You could make the canvas come alive with abstract lines jumping out with bold acrylics. You could take a close up photo of the coarse whiskers on a kittens face or a landscape of the sunset over a river. You can feel the creativity rushing through your veins like adrenalin. We are all visual artists in our own way.
I don’t think that every person is unique in their own way; I believe that every person is amazing in their own way. A partner awaiting them, fitting in like a warped puzzle piece. You cant forget that opposites attract like sugar and salt that spark the taste buds. A puzzle piece, smack dab in the middle showing a loud cobalt blue, could pair with the pale dusty pink of a corner piece.
Every single person has a different perspective on the world, on people, and on life. You could see your hair blowing in the rearview mirror or settled on your face as you look deep into the mirror within your room. You can see art In your eyes, soul, and heart. You can use your hands to sculpt clay. Making a your expressions 3D.
Music is also an amazing way to express yourself. The sound of the high hat and floor tom, with the bass in between is awesome. The low stings of the bass make a current that flows through your heart. A smooth voice can pure, the sound washing away your thoughts. Let the fusion of the music lift you off your feet. Music can go through your soul like its part of you.
Last but certainly not least, there is writing and poetry. You can write down your thoughts and feelings in a diary or on a lonely sheet of blank paper. Instead of stuttering with words, let your brain power flow right to the page. The text can just drift out of your mind, making it practically effortless. Let writing express your feelings.

Sabrina K