It’s raining at the crossroads tonight

A heavy sky weeping down on the forked path

Like the tears of the ones I’ve left behind

While the wind screams to never leave

Tonight I stand in front of the thousands of options ahead of me, but I have yet to take a single step.

I don’t want to move forward, I want to remain frozen in time. I want to go home and sleep in my childhood bed, and do all the childhood things.

But life moves forward hastily, never once stopping to take a breath.

So many decisions with unclear outcomes, so many muddy futures with a chance to go incredibly wrong

Which diploma do I want

Which college do I want to attend

Will I even go to college

Will I be radical or apolitical

Where do I go

What do I do

Which path do I choose

Because once I pick one I’ll never be able to go back

I’ll have to follow it till it’s logical finale, either a fancy deathbed or a plain one

But I must continue on this journey

Through rain or snow I must keep moving forward

Because breaking down and giving up will not get me to my desired destination

I must move on, to reach a better place

I don’t know where I’m going to go in my life, I’ve never been one to believe in fate or destiny, there are just too many factors. At my tender age of fifteen I feel like I’m meandering through this tiny speck of consciousness without a path or even the slightest hint of a guide. Sometimes I just wish I just could end it all, that way I won’t have to worry about any future I’ll have. I don’t want to grow old to the point I can no longer take care of myself, I don’t want to be trapped in my own skin, I want my spirit to wander the galaxies and cradle the stars in one giant astral palm.

No matter what I do in my life, whether I wind up as a tramp on the streets, or a trillionaire with entire governments under my command, My existence will be nothing in the grand scope of the entire universe. Nothing matters, the only thing imminent is our eventual destruction. At one point all our names will be forgotten and our existence will be wiped entirely from the face of the planet. I want to die quickly so that way I don’t have to be bogged down by my insignificance and pointlessness any longer. I may have been put on this earth for a reason, but it was never my choice. Why do I have to exist, why was I made to die. Take me back oh sweet void, cradle me in your arms of nothingness and welcome me into the place we all came from and will eventually go back.

A road shoots through a vast desert

Dividing the sun baked plain in two

Which side do you stand on

They say to pick one and stay there, to build your roots and never leave

You are what side you are on

It’s characteristics define you and everything you do

The side opposite you is either unsuitable or wrong

But I’m a highwayman

Why be one half when one can be whole

Why not travel around and see which each side offers, if there is anything

Why decide

Why should I choose when I don’t have too

After Simon’s funeral, This...this feeling of dread, of loss, just hit me so damn hard. I felt numb like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on me. Everything had changed, I felt so robbed. People seemed to notice I was unhappy... they’d come up to me and pour their heart out, tell me how sorry they were.

I thought I’d get over it, death is the most important part of life after all… that’s what my dad says to me every day, sits me down in the kitchen and tells me his life story, the uncles that got blown to bits in Vietnam, how he didn’t have any place to be sensitive. To just tough it out. I do that every day, but the guilt, the feeling that Simon’s death was all my fault just eats at me. My Mom knows, and she won’t get off my ass. Always asking how I’m doing, wanting to know every single sentence from every single conversation I hold. I can’t tell her, it’s none of her business, I’m sick of my dad’s lectures, I’m sick of the fake sympathy passers-by always give. I don’t want it. Everyone thinking I’m some sort of community service project, that my grief can be cured, that I can forget, I never will! I never fuckin will! Because both my parents think they’re right and I’m the argument caught between them. Because grieving lasts for life. Because no one can bring back the moments Simon and I could’ve had. Because...I just don’t give a damn anymore. Say what you want, just don’t expect me to listen to the crap that spews from your mouths.

I hate it.

I hate it.

I hate it!

I hate the feeling. I hate everyone. You think I’m another charity case Mrs. Therapist. You don’t have to tell me. I see you’re shocked, but you’ve seen worse. Why do you care, just so you can make another 30 dollars that could’ve gone into my parent’s divorce fund. IS THIS ALL YOU CARE ABOUT, TO MAKE ANOTHER BUCK, TO STROKE YOUR OWN GOD-FORSAKEN EGO. GUESS WHAT, FUCK YOU, FUCK THE BACKWOODS REDNECK, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.

Last school year 2 students died

I never even knew them

The only time I saw their faces were the school portraits on the big projector screen

Why did this happen

What did we do as a society

As a people

As a world

To push them this far off the edge

I never spoke to them but sometimes deep down I feel like it was my fault

That I didn’t do anything to stop it

That no one could do anything to stop it

The one way to cure one’s depression is to “cure” the surroundings

I know myself how difficult that is

I can put on an empathetic look and try to make things better

But it only does so much

Where will we be if we let this continue on

Turning a blind eye to the millions of millennials who end their life because they couldn’t take it anymore

One depressed nation under God

Popping pills to make the day go by

One dying nation under God because our efforts only did so much

That we were powerless to the billionaires corrupted by greed

Who think they can suck everything out of us

Until we are a sack of bones decomposing in a coffin 6 feet underground

To leave us hooked to our devices, awaiting anything that may happen next

Because information is survival even though 70 percent of it is phony

One dying nation under God

With liberty and justice for all

Bullshit

If there was liberty and justice for all

We wouldn’t be dropping like flies

Flies that can easily swatted

Our guts will leave a smear, but that’s easy to clean

Cleaned up like we never even existed to them

Like some pastel band-aid that covers everything up

Makes us forget and ignore

One dying nation under God

A nation were not enough people in power care

Those darn millenial’s with their social media and big headphones

That don’t listen you

That want to block out the pain

Look at us

What will happen if we let this injustice continue

More death, more suffering

We need to stop

Everyone

We need to unite as a society to stop this suicide epidemic

Because in the end

Who will be left to do so?

My family had moved away for one year, and I was already an alien. An outsider trying to break the threads of a "close knit community", but how was I supposed to know that, I was just entering first grade. Right after my school's meet n' greet open house, my little six year old legs ran toward the playground just outside. My eyes hungry for former friends, kids who I had been playing together with since preschool. I had been gone over seas for ten months and I was aching to see my former playmates again. Especially this one girl who I thought was my best friend, she had a Barbie Dreamhouse and a hipster mom who usually left us alone. The perfect formula for a long lasting friendship between two young girls.

After some searching my Mom pointed her out. There she was in the evening light, playing with, laughing with, some other girl with mousy brown hair stuck in a braid straight down her back. I dashed towards her, my heart pounding full excitement, remembering all the fun times we had together. I called out her name.

She never looked back even once, in the midst of the lavender evening I had been abandoned for someone better. I tried again, but it was like I had turned invisible. I followed her, not being able to believe she had ditched me for that dumb brat. But my parents were calling so I had to give up.

On the walk back home my Mom asked me how was it with my former friend like any sensible parent. I was still in denile, some part of me couldn't accept the fact that this girl and I were no longer friends, but the answer I gave her wasn't much better.

"She said I was her OK friend."

My Mom wasn't happy, she said there were no "OK friends", just friends. And after giving me a lecture on friendship she called it a night. Except I hadn't been able to put our conversation behind me. That lie ended up haunting me throughout elementary school and I had debated coming clean for years. Finally one evening after I had transferred to another school district I told my parents at dinner. They weren't surprised one bit, and we went back to eating.

I reach into my pocket to find my tissues are solid from snot or frayed from constant usage.

My nose is running like a malfunctioning fire hydrant

But beggars can't be choosey

So I stick it out

Wipe the snot off

And glue my eyes to the work infront of me

I drown myself in my assignments before the mucus in my thoat can do it for me

I'm not sick, I'm just under the weather

This is the third or fourth time this year that I've gone to school sick

But I can't miss out

Do you know how much work I'll have to make up

A pages from Geometry Honors

Whatever my English teacher wants to throw at me

Notes for World History

Labs for Biology

And probably more

I can't afford to stay home or I'll fall behind

Like I did last year in middle school

Into the abyss of failure and worry

The grades would be too heavy to entirely pull up

I might be contagious, but I can't risk it

I don't have a fever

Yet

Yet, stress is one of the most major causes for my sickness

A cruel catalyst that follows me home from school

That breaks me down, leaving me vulnerable for the virus of the month

I wish I could have an easier time recovering

To be able to take a sick day for once and let my self have some guilt free rest

But the American education system won't let me

So I'll continue to work

Taking short breaks to blow my nose

On and on and on

Ever since I turned 11 I found it hard not be angry

Some might blame it on bullying

Others say it's hormonal

Some might even say it's a long term side effect of the anethesia I was put under

Honestly I don't know, the only thing I've noticed is how it seems to follow me everywhere

I can't even look straight sometimes

All I see is another oppressor, another bully, even if I'm wrong

I hate you

I hate you

I hate you

Rage has enveloped me, hijacked me

Like some kind of fever which will never cool down

I know the comparison between fire and anger is hundreds of years old

But that's what it honestly feels like

Some uncontrollable inferno, of pain, hate, and suffering

Rage in a way is like some proactive depression

You get it for the same reasons, you feel it the same way

But anger wants to do something about it

To fight back

Even when you are only fighting against yourself

Only to wind up in the principals office again

That bloody bastard

Wouldn't you like to see me cry

Over some bully who'll never get in trouble

Over some circumstance you have brought on me yourself

I hate you

My mind says it's wrong to hate

That I can dislike but I shouldn't hate

Hate, it's the same as love

Just as pandering and pointles

Pointless, just like every fight I got in, in middle school

The vice principal was mostly right this time

"That pencil stab made him bleed

He had to see the nurse"

I sometimes wish the pencil did more than just make him bleed

But I can't wish that

I hate it

I hate myself

I hate myself for being angry

When it is for the mundane things

Like chores and homework

Or my cat begging me for attention

I can't be angry in real life

But I can be angry here

This is how I struggle

On paper

On my computer screen

My rage will always be with me

Whether I want it to be or not

But at least I have an outlet

Thank you

A ball of unsatisfaction rests rigid in my palm

White paper torn and crushed into sharp points

I hate it

I hate what I did with it and the contents I drew on it

I didn't break it, I simply scratched it from my memory

Another worthless drawing not quite up to my standards

The same faced character, which my hand never seems to draw right

Fills the page, in a cluttered yet monotonous manner

blocking out my thoughts and only making me angrier

I shred it apart

I don't want to see it again

It never existed

It's a rough draft I can do with out

What is there to learn that I haven't already learned from it

I tear it apart

After I had done so in my mental critique

Disfiguring it, making the page uglier than it already was

Crumpling it

And eventually disposing it

Leaving it all behind as I head to English class

Green sprouts pierce through blackened soil, bringing back life from the dead. Making the charred moonscape come alive again. Trees that bring us oxygen with their emerald canopy, that enthrall us with their brilliant leaves in the summertime.We eat green, we breathe because of green, we might as well be green, but that would be weird. Green that gets clipped and cut down where it was supposed to be, where it once grew wild and free. Trees are pruned into more desirable shapes, lawns are kept in check, and billions of trees are cut down. Humanity doesn't like green stuff, it is a stronghold in the way of it's global conquest. But the land is supposed to be green, in erasing it we are erasng ourselves. So plant green, bring green back and let it color the earth the way it once did.