I was scammed people!

Ripped of my pride!

The pep rally- damn it all.

I wanted a book to preoccupy myself.

I had 3 minutes to pick one.

"Kant in 90 minutes" I chose.

It took me 35 minutes 27 seconds.

I timed it.

Sad thing was-

I actually learned something.

It was a really helpful book.

It started with the girl, the dagger, the water.

She cried, fully clothed.

She was happy,

About to be released.

I saw her again.

The water was higher.

The dagger was closer.

It was a haunting dream.

Enchanting, but haunting.

An embodiment of my stage fright maybe.

Too scared under the spotlight.

I was never able to finish my performance.

Is life too long or too short?

Her city is my haven.

I go there the nights where I can't breathe.

I follow the rules, for better or for worse.

It wears me out.

So today I did something different.

I stopped smiling.

I glared at people.

I slept through math.

I talked back to a teacher.

I tripped a student for no reason.

I skipped my last class and read a murder mystery.

I cried.

It felt good.

Maybe it's bad that I don't feel guilty.

I'm a selfish person in general,

But I try to follow society's rules.

I wonder why.

In my town, if you live in an apartment, it can be either rich people nice, shitty, or super shitty. I'm in one of the shitty ones. Lived there for a long time. But management changed, price went up, and they got a pool table. Now, I'm not good at many games. I learned though that 8-ball is an exception. Yay for me, right? Who doesn't like being good at something? If we're talking about pool though, me. I have to buy my own chalk, have to coax people to play with me (cause who wants to shoot pool with a kid) and... um... I'm too short to reach a lot of shots properly so my back hurts after playing. Anyway, the worst thing though is... I'm too young to go to a pool hall. So, the first thing imma do when I'm old enough is take a pretty boy to a pool hall and shoot some pockets. Pockets.... I hate the pockets in girls jeans....

Pockets, oh pockets

You make life so easy.

I thank you with my poem

(Though it is pretty cheesy)

Set in my pants,

You warm my cold hand.

You stick by my hips

And your function is grand.

Holding a ring or a rock

Or a small wad of cash,

I love my pockets-

They're the perfect stash.

Plus, they make pants look cooler,

And they have genius design.

All should wear pockets-

I really think it would be sublime!

Durable, cool, practical.

Pockets are great- I vow! I swear!

Though I hate when they get holes

And I pray that they don't tear.

In short, I love pockets!

EXCEPT THOSE SUPER SMALL POCKETS IN WOMEN'S CLOTHES!

THEY SUCK!

WHOEVER THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA-

SCREW YOU!

Try not to look into the toaster while your bread is toasting. It can and will hit you square in the face without warning. Toasters don't care about your feelings.

Also, keep something in your pocket. Even if you have those tiny, annoying, useless women's pockets.

Last piece of big advice- find pretty things. It doesn't have to look pretty to everyone else, even a weirdly shaped sidewalk crack can be pretty. Just find pretty things, and you can remember that not all of life is ugly, and you can remember that even the little things can be interesting.

and now is when i realise i have no good advice to give...

but maybe it will all fall into place

if you try to muddle through

just a little longer

You learn from experience.

We can experience numerous things at a time.

Some may say that good experiences equal a good life.

Some say a long life is a good life.

What if we experienced everything in a single second, then were gone?

A single second life, but with all knowledge?

Would it qualify as 'fulfilling'?

Well I've decided I'll try read many genres focusing on different topics before college. So I got to the school library.

Philosophy

History

Horror

Science fiction

And so much more.

And I'm excited. I never had a school library before. I never had a familiar librarian, or a certain table I'm allowed play chess on, or just the huge variety of books in general. So it makes me really angry when people go in there and play on their phones, or sneak in food.

Just enjoy the school library. It's selfish- but can't they just not ruin it for me? Sigh...

I am not, for the record a Persian carpet. Just clarifying. I'm a human (probably).

I also do not want to be a Persian carpet. But I will be for this demonstration. Most everybody wants to be something they are not at some time anyway. The point though is that I am now old and frayed, stepped on until I'm thin and more a piece of cloth than a luxury carpet at all. My colours have left me. But to be honest, as far as Persian carpets go, I wasn't a very expensive one anyway. for some reason, I was set at the threshold of a fancy house, with fancy people living inside. Not many paid mind because of my quality. But there were some that raised their eyebrows, complimented the homeowners, and stepped on me more gingerly. Everyone else that came in those big houses though... they paid no mind. The ones that had money practically falling out of their pockets. The ones who were my owners. The ones I was supposed to impress but could never seem to do so correctly... they all walked upon me. But again... I was never the best carpet, as far as Persian rugs go that is.