They are.

She is the little smile on her lips.
She is the laugh at funny jokes.
The country music in the city.
The pop music in the middle of know where.
She is the skip in her step,
The tune on her tongue,
The song in her heart.

He is the old jersey's on the wall.
He is the color orange, like the sun.
The game system on the floor.
The posters on the wall.
He is the smirk on his lips,
The chess set on the dresser,
The movies on the shelf.

They are two big parts of a whole puzzle.

She is the music created by her finger tips.
The way a simple compliment makes her light up.
She is the rough housing,
The cuddling.
She is the caring hugs.
She is the upset tears.
The late night video game sessions.
The early morning shopping trips.

He is the smell of cologne in the morning.
The corny jokes that always seem to make someone laugh.
He is the arguing.
The apologizing.
He is the caring hugs.
He is the upset tears.
The hours spent on his game system with friends.
The days away from home.

They are siblings, as different as the sun and moon.
But as similar as the stars above.

If I died today...

Would anyone miss me tomorrow?

Sitting at the small desk, staring out the window I ponder.
The same thought bothers me, like it did days ago.
Circling and circling through my mind in an endless cycle.
What does it mean?
Why do I think it?
 If I died today, would anyone miss me tomorrow?
What a strange question to ask yourself.
Of course someone would.
I have friends.
Family.
Neighbors.
Certainly one of them would miss me. 

At Lunch, the thought comes again.
From my spot at the smaller empty table, I think.
The noise around me is nothing but a buzz.
My friends were busy, but I understood.
Eating along was fine by me.
I could think more, and eat faster when I didn't talk.
If I died today, would anyone miss me tomorrow?
Of course,  say again.

I'm late again.
The lights are on, and the front door open.
I know I'm in trouble.
Father stands at the kitchen door.
Mother on the couch.
I can see it in their faces that I fight just happened.
Was it my fault they shouted?
Did I mess it all up again?
If I died today, would anyone miss me tomorrow?
The question eats at me now.

The yelling starts again once I reach my room.
Mother thinks I need a break.
Father thinks I need a sport.
They shouting gets louder.
To me it's a dull roar.
When did I become so numb to their screams?
If I died today, would anyone miss me tomorrow?
The neighbors might be happy.
The screaming would stop.
The house would calm.

The morning is bleak.
Father is gone.
Mother is still crying when I enter the kitchen.
Should I speak?
Or should I just leave her in peace?
She doesn't seem to notice me, so I carry on.
If I died today, would anyone miss me tomorrow?
Father might have stayed.
Mother might not have shed a tear.

School is numbing.
From the teacher's lectures,
To my friends jokes.
I choose to sit alone today.
I have much to think about.
If I died today, would anyone miss me tomorrow?
The teacher wouldn't have to worry about another failed test.

This time I'm alone when I get home.
The house is dark.
The lights are off.
I drop my bags.
My hands are shaking.
If I died today...
The room is spinning.
My head aches.
If I died today..
Left foot.
Right foot.
I walk to the kitchen.
If I died today...
Mother is pulling into the driveway.
The lights are still off.
My hands still shake.
If I died today...
Pain.
I feel pain.
Is that my pain?
Or am I feeling someone elses?
I'm numb, right? I don't feel pain.
If I died today.
Mother is crying.
I must have made her sad again.
Even Father is crying.

... Would anyone miss me tomorrow?
 

Beautiful Girl, Why do you Cry?

    Have you ever heard the story of the girl who could fly? She was a lonely girl, born to a normal family, but abandoned because she was different, You see, this special girl had something most don't have. She had wings. Beautiful, midnight black wings that allowed her to fly like a bird. Many wished to know her secret. Why did she have wings? What allowed her to have them when other didn't? So she was taken in by a group of scientist. Each having their own questions. Many years were spent in the facility. Until one day the girl had enough.

I will not die.

    That sentence was repeated in the girls head. Each step she took was another step away. Green eyes flickering to every slight movement, hands gripping the strap of her bag as she walked. There was no goal in her mind, no destination she was headed for. No, she just wanted to get away. If she faltered for even a second, let her guard down for one split moment, then it would be all over. She could not risk it.

I want to be free.

    The on-coming storm made it hard for her to see where she was going. Every gust of wind wrapped around her as if it was trying to take her with it. For every flash of bright lightening, came a loud crack of thunder. Letting her know just how close the storm was. Seven seconds she counted, picking up the pace. Her steps pounding lightly against ground. Five seconds. Another crack of thunder following the lightening. If she didn't hurry then the storm would get her.

I will not be controlled.

    "Stop! I said to stop!" That voice, calling out to her again through the rain. Her heart sped up, eyes widening and grip tightening on her bag. They were going to catch her at this rate. No, that could not happen. She would not let them take her back. As that thought filtered through her mind, the girl started running. She did not care for the falling rain, or the harsh wind. The lightening flashing, illuminating the way for her. She was going to get away. No one would stop her.

I am not your puppet.

    A triumph smile worked on her face when she no longer heard the man running for her. Soon she would be free. Soon, she would be able to do as she wished with no one to control her. No more test. No more needles injecting chemicals, or taking blood. No more creepy doctors making her do things she did not want to, like run for hours with no resting. With out second though, the girl let her pitch black wings unfold from her back. The wind catching them easily, and just like it was second nature, the girl flew.

I will not die.

    The girl flew and flew. Her wings carrying her far away from those that wished to hurt her. Away from the ones that abandoned her. She did not car where she was going, for the wind was her friend and she trusted it to get her some where safe. Some where she would be loved, protected, and wanted. For that is all the girl with the wings wanted.

It's a Whole New Ending, to a Brand New Beginning.

1. This year I have written a lot of story, be it short or long or even just an idea. I have written much more then I thought I was going to write. Close to the beginning of the year I wrote a rather scary story titled The Third-Floor Bedroom: The Haunting of Willow Street based off of a picture of our choosing. I am rather proud of the story and if I wanted to, I could expand on the story. I didn't know I would be good at writing scary stories until I started this class, now I have a clear understanding of the kind of stories that I will be good at writing. When going back and re-reading story, and then comparing it to my later stories I can see an improvement in my writing and detail. It is noticeable when comparing it to my story The Darkness of Hallow Manor which get's very detailed. I love this story for many reasons. One being the fact that I think it holds the near perfect tone of creepy that I was aiming for. It is detailed to the point I can picture it while writing. This story is one that I will probably work on expanding as time goes by. It is my dream to be an author and I hope to reach that dream.

2. Around Halloween time this year I read a terrifying story by Brittany called Fool Me Once. The story had me shivering in fear and never wanting to cheat on someone ever because of Brooke. I applaud Brittany for this story because it is very well written, and the detail is beautiful. On the Topic of scary or weird stories, I read one by Zach called Revenge. It was so weird, and scary and good that I was a bit surprised. The writing style Zach has, is of course much different then mine, their is no doubting that, but I rather like it. His story Revenge, is down right creepy and mind blowing. It is always amazing to see what people can come up with when they let their mind's go and imagination run. Some people have such a vivid imagination that it is astounding that they don't put it to good use. I think this class helped us all find an inner writing. Some more then others.

3. Since I am a avid Tumblr user, I have experience using and making a blog. Admittedly, I haven't even run a blog like this one where I only post writing and such, but It isn't all that different from Tumblr. I have had a Tumblr for about 3 year's now, and making this blog came easy to me. I came up with the name of my blog, because I like to think about things from a blind person's point of view, How do they cope, and what does the word sound like to them when all they see is black? It has always interested me to know how people who are blind interpret the world. That's where I got the Idea to use my own personal saying Seeing the World Through New Eyes. Even though they can't see, they still can imagine. I hope that anyone who happens across this blog would like some of the things I have written. For who would listen, I don't know but if their is at least one person out there who enjoy's what is on here, then that is good enough for me. I think I might use this blog out side of class, because I really enjoyed using it. I will post pictures and story's I have written, or even Ideas. Who knows, maybe something on there will be my big break.

4. Journalism is something else that is not new to me either. I have and still do keep journals at home that I write, and draw in. I glue in quotes I like, and jot down random Idea's in my journals all the time. The journal I am using now has a tone of my own art work drawn into it's pages. Some not as good as the others but yet some is pretty impressive for me. I actually wouldn't let anyone read my journal until I am finished. They can look at my pictures but I don't really want anyone reading it. I will probably always have a journal, even if I barely write in it, I find it comforting to be able to share my thoughts down on paper.

5. On the end of the street, the last house on the left. Lives the happy family of the Coldwaters. Behind the turquoise door is the 5 of them. There's mamma Coldwater, her happy smile and plate of homemade cookies inviting even the grumpiest of people in. Papa Coldwater, his sweater vest on, coffee in his hand and the news paper in the other as he tells you about fishing with grandpa. Lucy Coldwater is the oldest child. Her golden blonde hair always styled to perfection, Phone in hand and magazines of teen weekly out on the table. She rather be at the mall then home. George Coldwater, the middle son and the most adventurous. His shelves full of adventure and mystery books. He listens to papa's stories like they are the best thing in the world. Then there's little Mary Coldwater, she's the baby of the bunch and always finds a way to ask a question while getting her older siblings into trouble. A happy family is what the Coldwaters are, keeping conflict between the family and behind the closed door.

6.  This passage is from my story The Old Boxcar, based off of a picture of a boxcar. I like this small part a lot because it made me tear up but smile while writing it. "...The photos showed a happy time, when people would gather in the old ghost town. Family and friends, neighbors and work buddies all in one place. The smile fell off the man’s face and he closed the box again before slowly making his way out of the boxcar. The door was slid shut again, and the man turned away from the old memories.  Gradually he walked away until he faded into the distance, taking his memories with him..." 

7. Well as you probably know by now, I really want to be an author. I plan to finish at least one book and try to get it sold so people can read it. I adore writing and coming up with new stories. I also want to be a teacher in the future, in English or maybe Creative Writing too. This was such a fun class, and I enjoyed every day coming here. It was the best way to wake up in the morning. I feel that I could be a very could creative writing teacher, and it would be a lot of fun.

8. Hey everyone! You did it, you made it another year, another semester! That's great! I had so much fun in this class, and I enjoyed getting to know everyone too! You are all wonderful, beautiful people who are going to go far in life, I just know it! Everyone of you are special in your own way and if you believe in your self then I know you will do great! I will miss you all. Good luck as you take steps into your own life, and stay safe.

Divorce can really...

         Divorce can really hurt a family. It tears, and separated everyone and no matter how they try, someone gets hurt. Family's are meant to stay together. To love and cherish each other. Family's, and people in your family, are the people you should feel comfortable with. People you can talk to, you shouldn't feel torn and broken in your own family. Divorce hurts everyone more then the two separating.

The Blue Dress

It stared down the weathered dress,

    Dense from the lives it has seen,

Worn with just something awful,

Almost not kind against present year.

The blue that had been expensive,

Was not there in time,

Even her dress picked something of

Later. 

2k14: New year, same me!

This year, I will find the courage to face my fears. I will let go of the mistakes I made before and embrace the one's I will  make this year. I will honor my Uncle with what I do in life and love my remaining family more then before. I will stand up and share my ideas with the world, even if some are the most important. This year, I will remember I am loved and I am enough!
I will also spend more time connecting with distance friends and creating closer bonds.