UnexpectedThe bell rings as I rush into class, choppy scarlet hair bouncing behind me. I take my seat, careful not to glance too much in her direction.We all leave our seats to walk to the four corners of the class room for each topic brought up. The first corner if you had no idea what the topic was, the second for knowing a few facts, the third for knowing enough to write a decent paragraph, and the fourth for knowing enough to give a lecture to the class on the topic.I can't help but notice that for most things she travels confidently to the fourth or third corners.Always.Of course.I shouldn't be surprised at all, really. She's a genius. Brilliant and witty. Cunning and smart. Amazing. Beautiful... gorgeous.We all run back to our seats, invigorated by the unusual activity. Normally history class is just PowerPoints, notes, discussion, and random tangents usually involving New Orleans. I run too fast,try to sit down at my desk.Overestimate the distance, trip over my backpack,
Colors in the Wind: Portraits of the MindStep outside the cafeteriaHigh point of the world.I can see all of LA,Catalina Island softly silhouetted in the distance.Soft, tinkling bells chime,Her laugh.She leans slightly against the railing,Admiring the view,Reveling in the breeze.Blue plaid skirt ripples across her thighs,Dancing in the wind.Her hair catches the light, shimmering golden in the sun.But brightest of all is her face.She turns slightly away from me,Her face eclipsed in shadow.But I trace her features in my mind's eye,Treasure the many mental pictures I've captured,All slightly worn around the edges from being brought out to be looked atOver and over.She marvels at the clear blue sky,But the sky is dull compared toHER
Every Dayevery day i hear my brother ask me if i still THINK i'm gayevery day i try to explain to my mother that it's love not a lifestyleevery day my father walks on, unknowing that his daughter isn't "normal"every day i ask my mother why she's crying; she shouldn't be worried about meevery day i wait for the glorious beautiful SHE to love meevery day i wait for life to pass, to speed up until im 18every day i wait until i am legally in charge of my own lifeevery day i walk through school, tormented by my mother's sorrowevery day i walk through school, comforted by my supportive friendsevery day i thank god for those who love meevery day i think it's funny that my friends are more my family than my real family nowevery day i curse god that i am gayevery day i thank god that i am gayevery day im told "it gets better"and every day i wonder why it's all so hard
Abandoned DollhouseFalse loveis like an abandoned dollhouseBeautiful on the outside,But forever empty within.