What if i fall further than you, what if you dream of somebody new...

What if i never let you win
and chase you with a rolling pin?
Well,
what if i do?

Those are the glorious, words of the most talented Ingrid Michealson. She a masterpiece. Can never get enough. Take a listen to the song Giving Up, you won't regret it, I promise.

Couldn't help it, I just had to point that out. As I'm writing this very blog she's filling my ears and bringing a smile to my face just because of that reminder of the honey smooth memory of my favourite person.
Anyway, I'm kinda on the verge of a novel, but I'm still not sure of where it's gonna go. Helpful, right?
Whatev's. So I'm gonna post bits and peices that I come up with, critisism? C'mon help me peeps! As a internet-y, harmonious whole, let us write! XD

Part 1-3 (wooohooo)

Once more, the boy breathed out. His muscles were starting to complain, and he then realized how tense he was. Grinding his teeth together to fight the quiver of his jaw, he took his already frozen hands from his pockets and placed them on the icy blue rail before him; it was even more numbing to his aching hands, but he gripped the rail tighter. Stepping up onto the rail below, he stood, resting his knees against the rail he had just been holding.



A solid horizon stretched for miles, and the sun was cautiously touching its surface; an awkward first kiss. Water roared below him, it crashed into the bow of the boat, taunting him. His worn sneakers slipped a bit and he wondered if he should step over the final rail.


This boy was desperate to become a man. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, he leaned, stopped, and stepped off. This man was not selfish.


~


She lay in that hospital bed, her hands gripping the emptiness that was ripping at her heart. Her teeth clenched together against the angry tears streaming down her face. She tried to scare them off with fury, but they wouldn’t leave.


The words still burned her tongue. She closed her eyes and traced a line down her stomach, thinking about what could’ve been there. Another infuriating shudder took her and she slammed her fist against the white sheets. How little damage her rage made only made her heart burn a deeper shade a blue. Frustrated, she sat up, crossed her legs and placed her head in her hands.


Her puppy-dog eyed, pleading tears took this as permission to leave the lids of her eyes and flow freely, happily, as painful as acid. She was tearing, ripping right down the center. Acid rain burned in the crevices of her fingers and splattered against the white sheets.


A roaring mix of emotions flooded her; pain, helplessness, anger, and most profoundly, guilt. This girl was trying desperately to become a woman. Reason, confusion, perspective. She wasn’t sure which to feel. The baby she wanted to bad was gone because of him. Accident or not, she was a part of the beautiful baby girl that had grown inside her, and she was a part of her; one being torn apart.


Her nails were beginning to make indents in her freckled cheeks and her lip had split from the constant bite of her teeth. This woman thought a moment, and realized that she was not selfish.


~


Sound fogged around her like she was underwater. She couldn’t feel anything, only the dull throb of something leaving. Her lungs were leaking, she was sure of it. The constant intake and release of breath that was so familiar to her had died away long ago, and now all she could do was pant frantically.


Lights flashed in front of her eyelids in varying hues of orange and blue, interrupted occasionally by a silhouetted blob. She desperately wanted to fade and just let go, slide away into an abyss of thoughts; it was pure agony lying here halfway. Distorted words floated into her ears with distorted urgency. Then she heard it, above all the noise and confusion, she heard his voice. He was calling to her. She needed to see him. With the last of her strength, she pushed her eyelids open, only to be overwhelmed by the shock of light.


Faces with brilliant, shining eyes swarmed her, hands lifted her. Suddenly he felt it, every molecule of it. Pain jolted through every bone, every sinew of every muscle and caught her by the throat. She looked desperately for him, tried to call his name, but all that came from her trembling lips was a whimper.


Please. I’m right here. Save me. Oh God, save me. It hurts… It hurts…


The lights were dazzling, dancing, agonizingly bright.


Make the lights stop… Make them stop… Come back…


Her words weren’t reaching the air and her frustration was shoving at her insides, grinding through the pain to get out of her body. Through everything, his face came inches from hers, but he still didn’t seem close enough. Despite the infuriating blur, but she still saw his magnificent eyes gleam through the haze, and his tears shimmer against the light.


Stay with me…


Black, white, black and out.

Day 1

Alright. So was today anything thing AWE-mazing? Not really. But hey, why not write a blog on it anyway?


school.


Just kidding. Still on the subject though, Poetry. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Something mind-boggling probably. You know, like, a poem is something a poet writes extremely poetically. 
Well, a coupla smart apples (the ones we secretly love) went on about all the things they consider poetry. A confident kid with neatly messy hair and holding in a bellow of laughter says: "A poem is sitting on the toilette after all you can eat sushi."
Good Guatamala! Hell yes! Screw all this, poetry is standing is a field of buttercups, shizzzz! Psh! ... 
...
Of course, the rest of us all took the assignment so much more seriously and thought deeply about what the monkey crap a poem is! "A poem is the pitter-patter of rain on my windowpane. A poem is sand between my toes. A poem is drowning in a lake." Whatever jiggles your line I guess. 
Got any "a poem is...."' poems?
Comment section
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Okay, so here it goes...

     Obviously, I suck at blogs. I guess it's just because if you try to hard, everyone can see it. Pathetic. So here I am, writing off the top of my head hoping that someone, somewhere in the universe will read this and go 'oh finally! someone who just wants to be themself...' Anyone...? Anything?? Why can't this be the time when scientists discover blog-reading aliens actually exist?
    I want this to be a blog where people read, comment and interact. I mean, hey, nothings wrong with making signs and stuff, but that's lame. Besides, if advertising is the answer, doesn't that almost always end in disappointment? There you are, running home to see what this amazing sign about a blog could possibly be about and
BAM.
    Nothing.
          Boring.