It annoys it terribly. : )

When the world glares at you, just smile.

Little pieces of paper can fake to be concrete

Some people can let "life" get in the way of life.

Then someday it all comes rushing out through your eyes, and you realize that nothing else really matters, and you push "life" away to let the shadows of life envelop you.

But the world has a way of running with you

I want it to rain. And I want it to thunder. And I want it to light up the sky, and make the wind blow like it's running away from some unknown beast. And I want to be that wind, because it feels safest to just be running away. And there's no better music than wind, thunder, and splashing through the puddles to block out everything that's in the world and focus on everything that's outside of it.

Glue and Tears

As my creative writing teacher thinks, there is no writing for yourself. Sure, you may write to understand yourself, but if you've written it out, then that is a public piece. I'm sure we've all had those times where we're writing in our journal (or whatever you prefer to call it) and address people in the future. "If this is still around in fifty years..." "To my great-great-grandchildren..." So what is writing? Is it public, or private? I suppose that it's meant to be private sometimes, but will always be public. Unless of course we burn the paper. But after 120+ pages written in dedication, it's hard to part with one of those little books. I'd stare into the burning flames and see a little bit of me burning into nonexistence... of course, that's what my teacher says we need to let go of. Our writing is not us... but I'm perfectly happy to have it still feel like it.

"Dear Spencer,
Live each day to its highest potential, because someday you'll find that day gone.
Love each and every person beyond the limits you think you can. Let love consume you, and be in your every being.
Let laughter fill your lungs, and let it be strong, soulful, good laughter.
Think in emotions, not in materials.

Find beautiful things in all, even those deemed "ugly".
Hug like you're squashing every fear you've ever held in that embrace.
Smile with tears in your eyes, so everyone can see the oceans of feeling you possess, and how much of that feeling is to love them.
Breathe the world in. You're sharing the same air with billions of people. There's always something that connects us all.
I love my family, pets, friends, and acquaintances so much, even strangers, because there's no golden rule for life except to love all to such a great extent.
Blessed be,
All my love,
Rachel Maria"

From my journal

If I could have one wish at this moment, it would be to give him a kiss and tell him thanks for ever judging me, and walking away after seeing the expression on his face....

Oh, my child.
Soon you will know the ways of the world.
You will know the ways that are cruel,
And the ways that are caring.
You will know the ways that are unfair,
And the ways that are just.
You will know the ways that are saddening, maddening, depressing,
And you will know the ways that are joyful, beautiful, hopeful.
And, my dearest young, you will find the ways that you can change it.
Change it, and make the world that of your own.

All of the shooting stars can keep
||||||||||.|||||||||*|||\||||||||||||.||||||coming||||||*||||||||/||||||||||||
|||*|||||||||||||||||||||\||||||.||||||||||||.||||||and||||||||||/||||||
||||||||||||||||||||||||||*|||||||||*||||||||||||||||coming |||.||||||*|||||||||||||||||||||||||
|||||||||||||||*||||||||||||||until I feel like||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||*||||||||||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I've~~~ drowned.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they stop coming,
I'll know that it's because I've finally made the right wish.

The hope you can find in a stranger's
words.
You don't remember what their
name
is, but when you see the
type,
and hear the
passion,
you know.
You just know.
And then you can carry on... having one
person
who you don't know out there who feels
like you,
and you know that if they can, you can.

The Dark Woods of Alexander Bay

By Rachel D.
Miss Preusz's 4th grade class
November 2004

The car stopped and Alexander stepped out, and his curly black hair waved under the little light remaining. His parents, Hilda and Henery Swenson, stepped out behind him, tired and stressed from the long four hour drive to Henery's inherited house from his great-great-great-great-great uncle Harold.

Alexander stared up at the old mansion towering above him. the mansion was made of solid gray stone with a gray brick chimney going up out of it.

When Alexander touched the silver knob, a shiver of fear was sent up his spine. He turned the knob and the door made a big "Thudd!" as if it hadn't been opened for centuries. As Alexander pushed the door open and it made a powerful screech.

As Alexander stepped into his new home, he found his 21 year-old sister Ashley and 7 year-old sister Angela, who had come in a separate taxi. Ashley had curly black hair, and Angela had straight blond hair.

Alexander looked around himself and stared at the dusty cobwebs hanging off blood red wallpaper. The floor had an eerie black reflection from the ceiling with an S on it for Swenson. A spiral staircase going 3 stories up caught his eye, and the brick red carpet going up it.

Angela ran up the staircase and yelled down, "Hey, Curly Face, I found the perfect room for you!" She called him by his nickname, Curly Face. Alexander answered back with a "One second!" as h moved toward the family crest that was pasted on the walls. "Now!" Angela screamed at the top of her lungs. "All right, all right." Alexander answered back as he slowly climbed the stairs, step by step.

As soon as he got to the top of the staircase, Angela led him to a small crawl-through space. Angela crawled in first, followed by Alexander. Alexander stood up and looked around; he was surrounded with black curls, like his (on the wallpaper). Angela pushed him against the wall, and as he hit it said in an extraordinarily odd voice, "Yup, you'll fit right in."

Alexander grabbed Angela's hands before she knocked him into something again. "Help!" Alexander heard someone scream. It was Ashley. Alexander let go of Angela's hands and before she could hit the ground, Alexander was shooting down the hall toward the room the bathtub was in.

There's no toilet!" Ashley repeated over and over again as if it was the worst thing in the world. "Of course not," Alexander was interrupted by Angela, "What do you mean, 'of course not'?" Angela said as she dusted off her purple jeans and polka-dot t-shirt. Alexander looked at Angela and back to Ashley. "What I mean is, this place is old, and old places have out-houses. In this case, it is out by the cemetery." "Cemetery!" both girls exclaimed, "Eww, gross!" and ran off ion the direction of the cemetery. Of course they ran off in the direction of the biggest and 'prettiest' tombstone.

Alexander stopped at one tombstone and then another, and another. Soon, Alexander stopped at the center tombstone. It was about 10 feet high and made of cold marble stone, and all he could make out, carved faintly into the stone, was a poem, the initials of who died, and when he or she had died. It read:

Underneath the shadows of the trees,
I sit and listen to the rustling leaves,
As the stone falls into place,
I disappear without a trace.

H.S. ___ - 1849

Alexander stared in amazement as he thought of where it might take place. "Trees!" he yelled out in glee. The only place with trees was the woods near Alexander Bay. He yelled over to Ashley, who was an expert on tombstones.

Alexander yelled over to Ashley again and saw the stunned look on her face. "What's the matter?" Alexander asked in a worried voice. "The stone moved. Well, the stone I was sitting on, it, just moved." Ashley answered in a shaken voice. "What!?" Alexander said as if it wouldn't happen in a million years. "I'll show you." She answered in an annoyed voice.

She sat ont he stone again and it fell into the ground and opened a space in the tombstone. Alexander lowered himself down in order to see in. Inside, he found a diary, a dark green stone,and small box with a key inside.

Alexander stood up quickly and ran into the woods. Angela looked at Ashley and shrugged and ran into the woods after him. Ashley ran after Angela and, dodging branches, yelled, "Alexander, this isn't funny!" No answer. "Alexander!" Still no reply.

Both girls reached a small clearing and found Alexander staring at a small marble chair. Angela stepped forward and said to Alexander, "I don't think this is a good idea." "I know what I'm doing!" Alexander said in an unpleasant voice as he sat on the chair.

Alexander felt the back of the chair as if he were looking for something. He found it. Alexander dropped the stone he found earlier into a small hole, and put the key in a keyhole, and before anyone could do anything, he twisted the key and disappeared.

Angela squeezed Ashley's hand, being very scared for her only brother. Both girls searched around the chair, under trees, looking for Alexander. Ashley looked in the diary. At first it was blank, and then a note appeared. It said:

To find something,
Over my head,
Go to where
Rest the dead.

Both girls ran to the cemetery and found a headstone. It read:

Alexander Swenson

The End



It reminds me so much of how I wrote stories a year ago, heck, even now. Overusing "and" and commas, and even the word order. At least I've improved on paragraphing. And drawings.
I remember in fourth grade I was so proud of this... I'm glad I found it again. : )

Be my favorite fruit; don't pollute. : )

The sky looked like it was flickering near the horizon. How interesting, I thought. Then I realized it was probably just ten thousand people turning off their kitchen lights, and ten thousand more turning them on. "Interesting" turned to "idiotic" that night.

His eyes eat the stars, and they flicker and go out into darkness as he closes his eyes to sleep. They come again through the back of his head, and they are brighter, but his face crumbles.

Three stars, and one more.
It comes closer, I see it. It's red and white.
Hear it? It's closer again.
What a lovely shooting star.
We're stuck here in the city, so,
Let's make a wish on a helicopter.

The Crystal

In the cup of our palms as we circle around, and it sparkles and shimmers and it makes us all laugh. The darkness is still all around us, but it doesn't seem so great as the light that we can see. It looks like the ripples of a rainbow, and we all come closer together to bask in its beauty.
From the darkness, we hear a shout. From the darkness, we feel a shove. Our hands shoot out to defend, but we realize too late what we've let go.
It does not cry out, it does not panic, but it becomes wet with the sea, and it does not sparkle or shimmer, or laugh. Who knew that the sea could be so vast? That it could extend out to the darkness, and that all of the people who could be so light could become so heavy?
We tenderly take it back in our chalice-d hands, and we breathe soft lively winds slowly on it from the East. We bring strong energy to it slowly from the Earth from the North. We slowly wash the salt away with peaceful water from the West. We warm it slowly with sweet-smoked fire from the South.
It lies dormant, but we wait and we watch. Five seconds turn to five hours, and five hours turn to five weeks. It feels like so long, but we can see it again, that little light of all colors that burns deep in its heart. And it sparkles, and it shimmers, and it makes us all laugh.
We were together again, and none of us were afraid of the darkness.