To the lost love

In the morning, it was a Saturday. 

We didn't need any parents telling us we couldn't live our lives, any way we pleased. 

This was OUR life, OUR challenge.

But, these precious things seemed to obliterate.

They were lost, but we couldn't forget them.

We woke up to the sounds of police cars.

But the sirens were only in the distance.

We tried closing our eyes again, but the fear struck us lame. 

We were too afraid of the cars coming to us, that sleep was a hope.

We pass through this earth once, and we wanted to make sure it was worth it.

So we ate our sandwiches on the run.

But still took time to smell the daisies.

I tried to create the image of how wonderful you truly were, but you only listened to the magazines.

That was too much.

You were generosity, and love envieth not. Or so the scriptures say.

You're first business in life was to collect men.

I think that was the origin, the origin of a disease I call longing.

Because I could tell you were longing for the one.

But the ideal man, does not always pray.

#realtalk

this is the truth.

I am not ready to leave.
I am not ready to become a senior.
I have become comfortable with what I know.
That's how it all works out.
They come, they eat, they leave.
It's only the cycle.
(And if anyone understands that movie reference, I praise you.)
Entering any new situation is scary.
We fall in love with things far out of our reach.
We take chances that we can't control the result.

this is the truth.

Nelson taught us things that no other teacher ever has.
We've learned to take risks, while other teachers have taught us to be cautious.
We've learned that death is inevitable, but that's okay.
We've learned that lonely can be healing if you let it.
We've learned to steal like an artist.
Nelson has taught us so much more than writing.
He taught us about Life.

THIS is the truth.

Paris can be taken from us, but we don't have to forget it.

It's hard not to remember

I remember when my favorite color was pink. I remember that my princess Barbie was mine, I didn't want the neighbor girl to touch it. I remember swinging on the swings, and the time at school when the under dog, that Maren gave me,knocked me to the ground. 

I remember when my brother put me through Fat camp. He tried to teach me how to do push-ups, and then he gave me an Indian wallet to give me help. I  remember hating tomatoes. I remember peeing my pants in 1st grade and my neighbor helped me home. 

I remember when a pinky promise meant something. I remember burying a plastic baby in my sandbox, but I couldn't find it later that week. I remember when I couldn't control my anger and I jammed Anders head into the keyboard. I remember the dream I had about being in a tornado and I thought it actually happened. I remember getting mocked for that dream for the rest of forever. 

I remember when I first swore. I called my sister a B**** but I didn't know it was bad. I remember my mom got really mad at me, cause Ellie yelled for mom to come to our room. 

I remember wanting nothing more than my brother to like me. I remember the first text he ever sent me. It was a picture of my old Kim Kardashian phone case. I remember not telling people that I didn't have a phone because I was too embarrassed. 

I remember when sparkley crystal rainbow was my middle name, and all I wore was a white tutu slip. 

Paradise

It's been a while since my family all went somewhere together. My dad was really thinking beautifully when he decided to take us to Hawaii. Aloha school next week. [and that is the goodbye Aloha]

Unforgettable

The first time you ever swore- always remember it.

When you learned to whistle- always reminded.

First time you rode a bike without training wheels- remember the feeling.

First day of school- start of your future.

Your first best friend- always a tender spot.

Leaving elementary- feeling so old.

First locker- across the lunchroom, second brown one in from the wall.

Last day of junior high- bittersweet.

First day at the Peak- feeling so insignificant and small.

More than Half way through my highschool career- heart wrenching.

Thinking about college- upsetting.

Best friends leaving you- lonesome.

Thinking about my future- terrifying.

Blackout poetry

Steps

One- breathe

In out in out, take that air in

Two- smile

Through the hard, and through the best, you just have to keep on grinning

Three- forgive 

People make dumb mistakes and every time you need to forgive them, EVERY time

Four- apologize

When you've done something stupid, apologize

Five- love often

Love things, love people, love animals, love food, just find something you love

That's it, those are five things to live by for a happy life. If you want a happy life, you make it a happy life. You cannot place it on others to make it a happy life. Just because the sun didn't rise at night does not mean that life sucks. My dad always told me to expect nothing from everyone. And it works. That way when someone does do or says, something, you are pleasantly surprised. 

It's time for these baby birds to learn to fly

Nelson pulled a fast one on us. He threw us from the nest, and hoped we would spread our wings. 

I felt exposed. So many thoughts ran through my head, I was so afraid. Even now as I imagine that all of you know who I am, I feel so uncertain. 

I definitely was the bird that plummeted quickly towards the ground. 

But then I realized. 

I do have wings.

Nelson has taught us courage and taking risks and speaking for ourselves and that was the wind.

We needed to catch that wind to soar. And if we didn't, we would fall.

I realized, there are worse things in life than all of you thinking my writing is horrid.

There are worse things in life than writing how I feel and having people disagree, cause that's the way life is, people don't always agree.

There are worse things in life than having my pen name revealed. 

So Nelson, thank you for doing us all a favor. 

I promise, I won't sue you.

The Old Road

#sadchairs

Spring break

Spring break.
Untrue to it's name- it snowed.
I don't know, maybe it's a good thing it snowed- there won't be a drought with more water right?
I like the part where there's a break from school, but I wish I could have online web classes scheduled with Nelson for the week.
It'd keep me entertained as I stay here in Highland. [i hope that doesn't narrow it down too much on my true identity.]
The truth is- I like learning- it's the part where teachers expect so much from us that kills me.
I don't have time to do 1 hour of math, 1 hour of science, 1 hour for each class, and then attend activities and have a job.
Not if I want to get straight A's any ways.
I guess that's why I would only want creative writing over this break.
Because- I learn from that class like I've never learned before.
I've learned how to be better than before.
And that to me is more important than the square root of 1255.
Sine, cosine and tangent have nothing on the poetic messages that teach us life in creative writing.
Nelson teaches us how to play our heart strings in a methodical beautiful way.
How he teaches is simply by example.
Really if I had to be jealous of someone, it'd be Mr. Kyle Nelson.
Because he has it figured out.
He's been in Paris for a life time.
And to me, that's really important.

jealousy is foolish

The Rider

by: Naomi Shihab Nye

i don't know how to roller-skate--i never learned how--i guess i was too uncoordinated for things like that. But maybe that isn't what makes me jealous. Yes, i wish i could be as fast as the boy. i want to be able to skate, skate hard, as fast as i can and ditch my loneliness in the dust. But lonely isn't all that bad. So i can't be jealous of that.

But, Pink Azaleas- they are so delicate. 

and maybe that's what makes me jealous. that i can't be delicate, like azaleas, and Naomi added them to her poem.

Maybe i'm jealous that i'm not a poet.

But i shouldn't be jealous because of something that i could change if i tried.

So maybe i'm jealous that i didn't write about escaping loneliness first.

Because i'm an expert about it.

But maybe again i'm jealous of the whole azaleas thing.

Because flowers bloom on their own.

They don't look at the other flowers growing and say- they are better than me.

They just bloom.

They aren't jealous, they just bloom.

Loneliness is second nature to me.

But i didn't run from it.

i embraced it.

I am jealous of the Azaleas thing.

Why can't i just bloom?

Lovely mind

Does your mind ever just go and go and go?

It just continuously rambles and all you want is to sleep, or to not think about what it's forcing you to think.

I feel sometimes that my mind is it's own being, like it has total control over me.

But I think I should have control over it, because I'm the bigger person- I AM the person.

I guess that just shows that size doesn't matter. 

A small something can be much more great.

Small minds can be lovely too.

Maybe it's just crazy and I've lost my mind and that's why I can't control what it says.

But I have control over my mouth.

Even when my mind thinks things, I stop it at my mouth.

So maybe that's it.

We're all a little crazy up stairs.

Some just have better control of what we let others see.

Oblivion

I think about things I don't know.

Like- when is there ever going to be a time that I won't have access to a calculator besides when a teacher puts the restriction?

Or when will there be no more wars?

Where will be the place that I live in the future?

What will happen if I just walked up and kissed a random person?

When will people be able to look at each other and just see their heart- their intentions?

Who decided what questions to put on the ACT?

Why is thinking about the past a bad thing- especially when it teaches us not to be that person again, or it makes us happy? 

When will my sister find the man she's marrying?

Who will be able to change the world next? 

When will the day come that I won't care about what people say?

What if I got over my fear of heights and jumped out of a plane?

When will I be able to walk out the door wearing my "red dress", just like the poem by Kim Addonizio, and be okay with every detail of me being exposed?

Who would hate me if I wasn't as pretty as my name sounds?

Why can't people be open to differences and change? 

When is the end? 

Who what where when why??? 

I don't know.

Maybe someday I finally will. 

But for now-

Thinking about the galaxy hurts my mind.

Showering is the greatest thing in the world.

The fact that we could instantly die by a rogue planet makes me internally scream.

Pickles and peanut butter should never go together.

Mr. Nelson should get the greatest teacher in the universe award.

The movie Insurgent should come out a lot sooner than it does.

I hang out with too many freshmen.

Contention gives me anxiety.

I'll keep hoping for my time to shine. 

A letter from my heart

Dear Reader,

Let me start by saying that each and every time you look at this blog, or you leave a comment, I feel as high as a kite. I don't mean that to be weird, but it's true. Every time someone looks at this blog I get an overwhelming sensation of excitement and concern. What if you don't like what my brain said, what if you don't like the way my bones formed the words, what if  you don't like the way I feel, what if, what if, what if...  I don't mean to say that I worry a lot, but I really do. I worry about the starving dogs on the streets and the abused children in fancy houses. I don't know if that makes me a worrier, or if I just care. Maybe I care too much. Maybe I don't care enough about the things that actually matter. But I know I care.
I care about creative writing and the fact that Nelson helped me to  become obsessed with words and meaning.
I care about the way that words fall from people's mouths, especially when they say them with conviction and power.
I care about bloggers that I've never met, I've fallen in love with people I'm not sure I know.
I care and care and care. Because that's what I do. I'm the most vital organ. The one that keeps this whole system moving. Sometimes the writer, the outside appearance gets all the praise, but really everything comes from me. Each word that is written. It comes from me.
So I say this from me, the heart, that I hope you enjoy life. I hope you fulfill the tasks you were too afraid to do yesterday. I hope you see things you call art each day. I hope you can look at a bad situation and find the good. I hope you never give up- and I really mean that- I hope you find determination inside of you and continue on in whatever you do- writing, a sport, life. I hope you take risks, the ones that the only thing on the line is if you'll get embarrassed or not- because even if you sing in front of a crowd or kiss a stranger, you'll still have your dignity. I hope you find love- someone who cares about you as much as you care about them. I hope you become the person you want to become. I hope you find joy everyday. I hope you live for as long as you'd like. Really, I just hope you appreciate life, that you know what you have before it's gone. Like this class. Not all of us get to go on and continue writing with Nelson. So enjoy it now.
That's pretty much it. Have a nice life.

Love, the heart of Rosie Grace

Grandfather and I

I found this book about a Little Kid and their Grandpa.
I really Liked it.
It talked about how everyone is always rushing to do things.
Rushing, Rushing, and never taking time to just watch, to see.
Well I really liked these pages.

I want to be able to stop and look, just as long as I'd like

Slowly, Slowly, death will catch you

I breath in and out. I walk around each and everyday, going through the motions. But DEATH is real. It is so real it makes me stop and think about what I am actually doing. And am I really LIVING my LIFE to the fullest or am I just going through LIFE? Dealing with the emotions and the fun times like I am supposed to, the way my parents and teachers tell me I'm supposed to deal with them, or do I really choose what I am choosing?

I don't quite know.

But sometimes I feel like I only Exist, that my only reason for being here, are because my parents once decided they wanted to create LIFE. But that can't be so. Because I am the youngest in my family. Meaning that my parents created LIFE many times before, and that was so great and LIFE is so grand, that I was worth something more, that my LIFE has something more. I don't quite know what all of my meaning is about yet, but I do know that there is more to LIFE than simply existing. That in order to start LIVING, you have to be introduced to DEATH. 

I was in the 3rd grade when seven people in my extended family DIED, within five or so months.

I hated music. I never wanted people to sing, because that reminded me of the joy, the joy of LIFE that none of those seven people could ever enjoy. I didn't enjoy LIFE. And I think that was an eye opener to me. 

I didn't understand then, that just because those people couldn't enjoy LIFE anymore, didn't mean that I couldn't either. So after a while, (it was probably a year before I really liked music again, and really just now) do I realize, I need to LIVE. I need to forget that things could take away my freedom and tie me down with the bonds of DEATH, and realize that LIFE is short. I need to embrace each day, no matter how late I wake up, and how much homework I forgot to do for Math that day. I need to smile at each and every person, treat them like it could be their last day. Cause for now, I'm LIVING, and I need to act like it.

Here's to those girls

Girls. There's the girls who express their emotions all over social media, making sure that everyone knows, "I just need someone to talk to." The girls who create so much drama, and then say they hate it and "being with boys is so much easier!" The girls who are so shy, that you'd never know that they were dealing with anything, but they post all about their fan-girling show. The girls who are so loud and act confident who post selfies everyday to boost others self-esteems, but are really just attention whores. There's the girls who hate everyone and everything, and why can't people let them live independently. There's the girls who are insensitive and so close to being a guy, you question their sexuality. The girls who constantly " OMG, my BFF is the greatest! So glad I have him! #justfriends". The girls that everyone know because they make-out with anything of the opposite gender. The girls who are known as "popular", the ones who are so pretty, but mean. The girls who are known as "popular", because they are on STUCO, and everyone knows them. The girls that are so smart and so pretty that they are nerdy boys landmine.  The girls who wear lots of black, do drugs, and hang with shady men who are in their twenties. The girls who drop out of high school to be a teen mom (yes even in Utah we have them). The girls who are really shy, but could be a model if they gained self confidence. And the girls who are just there, you know, who are in limbo, who know a lot of people, but would never claim any as Best friends.
There are so many types of people. I did just girls, because I feel that we are the worst of them all. Even though there are so many differences in all of us, we still have so many similarities. We want to be told we are good enough. We are our worst critics. We judge and judge and judge, but mostly ourselves to others. We all want to have a purpose to our lives. We want something to keep us busy, a job, a boyfriend, a good TV show on Netflix, we all need our busy purpose.
We all are affected by what's around us. It's a crazy world out there, and no matter how much you want to say that "media doesn't effect me" "her words didn't wound me" "his stare didn't blaze me"
It did.
So here's to those girls. Who are living. Who are on earth conquering each and every day, as it comes around. We are all in the same. We just need to be told, you're doing a lovely job.

One makes a difference

One point can make your grade an A- to an A
One number can make you live under the wrong social security number
One egg can make you have a dozen or not
One second of looking at your phone while driving could be long enough to hit a sign
One person could make someone else change their mind on ending their life
One word could end a friendship
One day could be your last
One place could be your safety
One hug could be enough
One life could be worth a million
One could be enough
One makes a difference

i'm afraid

i'm afraid of spiders- one of them might lay eggs in my ear.
i'm afraid of heights- they're beautiful and all, but i could fall.
i'm afraid of shots- they puncture my skin, and it hurts.
i'm afraid of snakes- scales make my skin crawl.
i'm afraid of earthquakes- my 6th grade science teacher told me California is going down.
i'm afraid of the way my mom wrinkles her eyebrows- that means she's mad.
i'm afraid of skiing- last time i went i flew down the mountain and a snowboarder had to stop me.
i'm afraid of contention- i'll be the one who walks away unhappy.
i'm afraid of being unnoticed- what's the point if i walk around and no one knows?
i'm afraid of being noticed- i don't want to be the center of attention.
i'm afraid of dying alone- i don't have great luck with boys.

i'm afraid of being too small and insignificant.
i'm afraid of going to hell.
i'm afraid of being judged.
i'm afraid of being mocked.
i'm afraid of being hated.
i'm afraid of God.
i'm afraid of many things.

One thing I'm not afraid of is the girl from Pleasant Grove who tried to fight me Saturday.
I coulda easily taken her. She just had to take the first punch.

i'm afraid of taking the first punch.

We are bricks

I'm going to write about something concrete.
Like the grass on the ground or the computer I type on.
The fact that we do live on earth, and trees grow from the ground.
That's concrete.
With abstract things-- can you go farther in depth?
I don't think so.
A Brick is concrete.
What can I say about a brick?
I can say all the concrete details about it.
It's red, rough, hard, made of sun dried clay.
But there's so much more to it.
There's potential for greatness.
Kind of like people.
You can look at anyone and say what they are made of.
We are all made of the same things, just like bricks.
But we all create different things.
And that's concrete right?
One may be an oven, or a house.
But we all started as just a brick.
It's what is built that people see us as.
Bricks are mended together with mortar.
Life experiences; illness, school, friends, family, etc.
That's our mortar.
So really, we are Bricks.
Every last one of us.

Happy Death Day

It's weird to think,

that every year we celebrate our birth day,

so excited for the day our life started,

yet our death day,

is passed every year and we never know when it will be,

it's never celebrated,

it just happens one day of one year,

and we as individuals never celebrate it for ourselves,

but our loved ones will never forget that day.

Mend my broken heart

I went back to Trafalga.
I hoped you were there, but all I got was suffocation.
I was drowning from the memories.
It wasn't funny and sweet like it was with you.
It was bitter and ugly, just a silly place for kids to play.
I tried to mend my broken heart,
But the happy feelings left with you.
I don't know why I went back I guess the depression inside me was too much to handle.
I needed to try looking for you.
Cause maybe you were actually looking for me.
And if I ever found you, I'd pretend I was just casually there.
But you weren't there.
And you weren't looking for me.
I went to Trafalga and all I got was the smell of sweat, and the echoed sounds of laughter.

Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

 I want to see the world. See the diversity of those all over the world. I want to eat sushi in Tokyo, and smell the smog in China. I want to learn to scuba dive just to visit under water worlds, near Egypt. I want to fly in a helicopter over Greece so I can see all of it, even the roofs. I want to row in a gondola through Venice, and smell the different aromas. I want to feel the chill rush through me as I trudge through Antarctica, and I want to visit the Pink lake in Australia, just so I can see my favorite color. I want to visit Africa and help in a humanitarian project. I want to go to Louisiana so I can go to a swamp and eat gumbo. I want to visit the castles in Germany, and go through caves in Scotland. I want to Travel the world, so I know what's around me.

Imagination is not dead, you just have to acknowledge it.

     

I was in Kindergarten. 3 ft. 4. We were asked to paint a self-portrait. So I did. I started with the face. But once I made one circle for the face it wasn't good enough, so I made another and another, till my whole page was full of circles. Still I felt proud of my master piece. Then the student teacher came around. I heard her telling other kids, "Good job!" and "That looks so good!" until she came to me. I was sitting on the farthest long table by the door. I remember my smile dropping as she slowly started laughing. She saw my art work and laughed. I was horrified. I was ashamed.

Too often imagination is wounded by those who fail to see it. Imagination has always been my biggest forte. I could think up a million things in a day. I was one of those kids who lived in their own little world, who saw "pretend friends" and played with them for hours and hours. Sparkly Rainbow was my best friend. She rode bikes with me, played dolls with me, she did everything, with me. She was someone I could always rely on. But because of something in the grown-up mind, Sparkly Rainbow had to leave, because Imaginary Friends do not exist. To Adults, she was no one. She was a sign that a child might be anti-social. She was a sign that I talked to myself too much. Seeing Sparkly Rainbow was simply, a bad sign. To the adults. And as soon as she was gone, the adults took a sigh of relief, because they had finally won, had finally wounded her enough to make Sparkly Rainbow cower into the corner. Now I could go to school and focus on reading books, making REAL friends, and do math. Not play with someone that was in my mind. So I could actually start doing something REAL.

To me... It was the Death of myself. Because to me, Sparkly Rainbow was REAL. She was my beautiful companion. She was unique. She was fun. She was unafraid. She was the one to call mean people the names I was too scared to say. She was my friend. She was my imagination. The day I said "goodbye" to her, I remember crying. I told her I was "Too Old". After that I swore she was gone, but I secretly knew she was always there. With me. I just needed to acknowledge her again.

I remember, when I brought my painting home to my Uncle, he told me it was the most Awesome picture he had ever seen. He told me it was the best out of the whole class. My Uncle picked my imagination back up. Told it, it was good enough, mended the wounds that were made, just so the world could beat it again.

My imagination was never killed. It was stabbed, wounded, and told to go away. So it retaliated and hid, deep in the back of my mind, but it never left, it can come back, and it does once in a while, just to say hello. I just have to acknowledge it's there.

The princess party

"You want me to tell you bout the princess party?"
"Yeah"
"Well we just did fingernails and do candy and eat cake, then the brother just eat the cake!"
"He just ate the cake?"
"Yep!"
"Why?"
"Cause he just loves cake!"
"He just ate it cause he loved it?"
"With his FINGERS!! He ate it with his fingers!"
"Ew, how old was he?"
"I think he's 4... I don't think he's older than me.."
"So did you get any cake?"
"No, he just eat it! Then he got a spankin!"
"That's too bad! So what did you eat?"
"Umm... We just eat... We just eat not cake."
                     

            

With Every Broken Bone, I swear I lived.

"I owned every second 

That this world could give
I saw so many places 
The things that I did
Yeah, With every broken Bone
I swear I lived"
-One Republic

Being human:
Is Living.
Is listening to powerful music and getting goosebumps all over.
Is feeling irritated that the giddy, flirty girl is more annoying than usual. Being human, you'd have to ask her to find out she just got asked to prom.
Is finding a hobby you love and investing everything into it.
Is realizing you actually hate that hobby and it's not all that fun.
Is wanting to be included.
Is yearning to be loved by someone.
Is including others.
Is feeling the pain of death of a loved one.
Is dancing to your favorite song alone in your room.
Is watching the homeless dog commercials with Sarah McLachlan music as background and crying, then questioning why a sappy commercial can make you cry.
Is laughing at a funny joke and your eyes crinkle.
Is dreaming for a better future but being too lazy to stop old habits.
Is being determined at the start of each year to change your way of life through resolutions.
Is losing that determination by the start of February.
Is admitting when we're wrong.
Is letting pride ruin a good relationship.
Is getting holes punched in your ears for decoration.
Is not knowing that the boy sitting next to you has parents that are getting divorced. Until you ask.
Is being disgusted at the man, driving in the car over, for picking his nose at the stop light.
Is seeing the person you like and getting butterflies in your stomach.
Is being 16 and finding out your friend has cancer.
Is writing and rewriting this blog post a dozen times this week.
Is finding your favorite color again.
Is moving out to go to college.
Is living in your parents basement because you're afraid of commitment.
Is making a million mistakes and still having the courage to get up in the morning.
Is making such a big mistake you wind up in jail.
Is making your dad your hero.
Is letting peoples words affect how you feel.
Is sitting in the bathroom stall at your church to finish your post, because your wifi is out at your house.
Is going to school and hating every moment.
Is loving creative writing.
Is hating Mondays, but loving Fridays.
Is learning to love tomatoes as you grow up.
Is having your body slowly stop working.
Is eventually dying.

Humans, we are walking art. From our fingers to the intricate details in our eyes. Everything about us humans is unique. We are art, creating art.

They were WRONG

I guess this video has a lot to do with humans. None of us are perfect, and this video shows just how many imperfections there are in our species. We are cruel. To our parents, our friends, our children, ourselves. That's what being human is about. Making mistakes, but also being human means that we can move on. Because, They were Wrong. All those people who told you, you were ugly, or that you weren't good enough. They were Wrong. You are human, that makes you beautiful. You are human, that makes you good enough. Too often we tell ourselves these awful things more than other people tell us. This video and the message it holds needs to be shared. Everyone deserves to know. They were Wrong.

Paving the Way

This blog is about making a new path. Taking what my thoughts are, and making them something new.

My rantings, my thoughts, my feelings, taking them and trying to make it something coherent to someone else's mind. I'm no poet, author, anything really, but I'll try.

I'm someone that stands idly by, someone who quietly speaks my mind. I'm quiet, but Loud. You'll probably never really know me. I'm too shy for that, but I'll try.

I over analyze everything. I want to make everyone happy, to make a blog that pleases everyone, even though I know I can't, I'll try.

This blog is about the life I want to lead. The way I want people to perceive me. This blog is about making something different. Creating my own.