Surprises

I walked with my brother
Across the street
Boyscouts cookies on hand.

Wind whispered to the blades of grass.
Dark clouds dressed the sky.
The scent of damp air wafted up our noses.
My sash full of buttons waved along my chest.
The fence creaked open from the force.
White paint revealed an ugly layer of the house.
A brownish grey color, mold forming in crevices.

"Are you sure you want to come here?"
I nodded.

Journeying from the fence to the stairs
Was difficult, at best.
Cracks and crevices encompassed our tiny feet

Creak, creak

A crack of thunder swallowed our ears.
I pushed the rusty doorbell.
A horrid singing noise sounded.
An echo ran through the house,
Leaving an everlasting impression on my mind.
Slow, heavy footsteps closed the distance
Between where they once were,
And two boyscouts.

My trembling hand reached into the wagon.
Thin Mints.

Thump, thump, thump

The steps were in sync with my fluttering heart
They were so close now,
The footsteps.
Each one louder, heavier, scarier.
We stood there
Holding the cookies.

Thump, thump, thump

Despite the cold,
Sweat was forming on my cheek bones.
The steps nearer than ever, now.
The twist of the heavy door knob forced me to cringe.
A squeak if the door
And it was open.

We peeped inti the crack
Attempting to register what was
Behind the monstrous door.
An unexpected jolt went down my body.
Two hands wrapped around my shoulders.

I looked in a frantic mess
But the darkness drowned my sight.

Whatever it was,
Whoever it was,
Took us in.

Blue Converse

I see a girl.
She is a girl who wears Converse.
She strides with ease,
And laughs of joy.
She's energetic and happy.
Her brown hair resting jut above her shoulders.
Chic, yet funky fabrics
Encompass her tiny athletic frame.
Wandering between friends of all types.
She is a girl that walks
And talks
And laughs
With honesty...
From where I see her.

I see a girl.
She is a girl who wears Converse.
She walks between groups
Trying to find which one
Which people
Which clothes
She belongs to.
She is nice to all,
But only pretending.
Laughing jubilantly
Talking loudly
And walking
On lies.
Who is this girl?

This girl is me.
The one who wears bright blue Converse
And a blind fold.

Shame

Shame is the color of cheeks gone red.
The whimper of a meek dog.
The taste of cold metal.
And the smell of burnt hair.
It looks like a lone tree in a fire-stricken field.
A great burden upon my soul.

Shame is grey with dullness.
Silent
It is the taste of raw meat,
Straight off the bone.
It is the smell of fish gone awry.
The sight of a dark graveyard.
The loneliness in my being.

Shame is the tint of a burning flame.
The sound of violent winds attacking a willow tree.
A noise of a homeless child,
Silent upon her footsteps.
Its taste is bitter, impure.
An everlasting smell of a decomposing body.
An ongoing woe.

Shame is the emotion,
That is only one's own fault.

Plumeria

I am an ocean.
Pulling people along
 Hoping they will follow my lead.
Choosing the correct direction.

I am the wind,
 Fighting against my ocean self,
 Wanting to go against what is right;
What is natural.
I am a Plumeria.
Beautiful in the truth
That a flower has.
 Immaculate look,
Indefinable smell,
But still beaten down
By mother nature
Aside man-kind.

I grow as a tree may
If nothing's in the way.
Constantly expanding in mind, body, and soul.
Not scar free, though:
The fires of people leave their permanent mark,
The pests of friends leave their destroying memories.

I feel as a beaten down path might.
Beautiful land surrounds
Yet I am used, stepped on.
Taken care of, every now and again
But still lacking that TLC.

I was a seed.
Hidden underground
Ready to sprout into something amazing.
But feared overpowering
My want and need to grow.
Grow into the tree I now am.

I am now a puppy.
Jubilant
Happy
Energetic
Clumsy and childish.
Always bringing a smile to even the saddest of faces,
Whether that smile is wanted or not.

I will be a light.
Guiding not only myself,
But others as well, journeying through a
Dark and lonely world.
Adding color and personality to the gloominess
As we go.

I am a sea.
Flowing many different directions
In many different ways.
I pull people one way,
And push others in a different way,
But still allowing them to be free
And "do their own thing"
Not always is it the best way, though.
For I am the sea.
So extravagant an unknown.
So dangerous and renown.
 

Cinderella Story: My Messed up Version

**Note, this post contains quite a bit more cussing than usual. I want to apologize in advance, but it is all necessary. Plus, I'm quite angry at the moment. PS. Sorry mommy, if you read this!**

Oh ok. I get it know. It all makes sense. You enjoy being a bitch to me so much, you will stoop low enough by emptying the dishwasher just to make me feel guilty for not doing it? Well, I'm sorry Jesse. But I do believe you have forgotten that I was babysitting last night, to make money. Yeah, that thing I haavent asked you nor my dad for, in over a year? Yeah. That thing. Get over the fact that I didn't do the dishes, and stop making me feel like a guilty dumb ass for not doing them. It's taken me a few years to figure this nasty bitch part of you, but I finally get it, you dirty whore ass munch. You know, I am honestly so f**king happy I am going to be 18 in a year and a half, because of your ass. I swear, if I had the ability to be able to go back in time and somehow make my dad not have met you, I would. No fucking doubt about that. It's funny, looking back at when I first met you. Remembering those first few moments brings a pain to my whole body. Even at the age of seven, I was Able to tell you and I would not get along. You tried to control my life, and be my mom. Hey Jesse, I have something to tell you, there is a reason that STEP is in front of MOM. There is, and always will be, that step. You will never be my mom. Sometimes, I am even disgusted to even say I'm legally related to you... (Thanks dad for being a dumb ass when it domes to this one) Even to this day, I cannot believe you introduced yourself to some people as my mom. As my fucking mom! If you were my mom, I would not be 1/1000000 of the coolness I am today. You are one lucky bitch that I am as nice as I am. But if I wasn't, and actually did say all the things I wanted to, ooooooh man. You would have gladly left my dad (hopefully) years and years ago. My biggest argument with all you do, and all you get mad at me for (because it all seems to be nearly the same thing) is what are you going to do in a mere year and a half, when I am gone? Off to college? No longer living in the same house? What are you going to do then, huh? Tell me. Because I would GREATLY enjoy your explanations. You have told me time and time again that you love me. That you don't want to be "that" step-mom. The one that we all so clearly know from the popular Disney film, Cinderella. Indeed you aren't, but only worse. I am.never quite good enough to make your Asian self happy, am I? As soon as I build my protective wall around myself, you somehow sense I'm somewhat safe, and begin your attack.. yet again. This wall can only take so many breaks, and cracks, before it comes crumbling down before you. Just when I think it shouldn't get worse, you stomp on the now crumbled wall, to turn it into a fine dust. Little do you know, though, that every time you do this to me, you also crush a bit of my heart and soul into a dust. A grain of sand that no one would give even a first though about. However, good thing is, the part that you are crushing, and destroying, is the one and only place you belong. So, all in all, you're only creating less space for yourself, and forcing me to make your sector in my heart less and less. I don't think you understand how you make me feel. Now given, the things you get upset about are completely and utterly retarded, but having you get angry with me over these things for the past eight years is finally taking its effect. Like my grandpa always says, "You can take Penicillin 200 times, but as soon as you take it the 201st time, you could have an allergic reaction and die." This is what you're doing to me. Why did I sneak out and have one beer? (Let me remind you it was one, over the course of an hour and a half) Because you have changed my dad so much, that he is almost as Asian-y as you are. Why do I not act like I appreciate you? Because until I see some appreciation from you not only towards me, but my dad as well, then maybe, maybe, I'll appreciate you more. But you have gone way to far into a hell hole in my cards, that I'm not so sure our relationship is ever going to be curable. Why do I not talk to you sometimes? Because I'm only returning the favor. YOU should be the bigger person in these situations. I am SO sorry if I piss you off on accident (or maybe on purpose). But you just sitting there, acting like a fucking 14 year old girl, is NOT going to ever make me want to make things better. You want me to act like an adult? Why don't you start doing it, you dumb ass hypocrite? </p>
<p>What if I told you how bad you were at the things you love most? Don't you remember that? When you told me I was a horrible rider? Or what about the time you told everyone at the barn that I was happy to sell Mary? Do you remember that? Do you even understand how many nights I went to bed crying because I missed my pony? Do you know how many times I've fallen asleep with runny mascara and black stains on my pillows, because of you? Have you ever even thought about how many of my friends, guy or girl, has had to bear with my wreck of a person and listen to my sobbing self because of the things you have done, or the ways you've made me feel?</p>
<p>Have you ever even thought how many times I've done something for you, like take Adi out when you seem like you're having a rough day, and all I get is yet another session of "I'm going to give you the silent treatment!"? </p>
<p>Do you ever even notice how many times my father and I have come home early so you can go ride your dumb horse? Do you realize how many times my dad ever gets to go fishing? And when he does, you give him a bad time about doing something he loves? If you get to ride so much, why can't he go fishing? If you love to ride so much, why can't I have one night free to hang out with my friend? Do you even notice that I have had my best friend over, only once thus summer because of you? Do you? Do you know any of this?

No..

No you don't. Because I will never be brave enough to actually say any of this to your face. You'd probably find some freaky Asian way to twist it back on me and make me seem like a bad person.

</p>
<p>But one thing I do have to say is when you start being the adult you should be, I'll begin having more respect for you.</p>

Sincerely,
Calm your tits, bitch.

<p>PS. you better begin treating my dad better, ASAP, or some shit is going to be going down.</p>