theworldisflat-

one the worlds flat.
two, could the world be flat?
three: what if.. the world was flat?

where would it end?

would it be sudden jump?
a sudden fall.
the way you suddenly broke my heart?

i think, the world isn't very flat.

Feb 7th isn't a day to remember.

There are certain days you'll always remember, always keep in the back of your mind.
One's with tons of laughter, and your friends all around you;
and other days full of tears, and stupid boys who really didn't break your heart,
we just say they do to make them feel bad.
And there are days where it rains,
days where you close your eyes and wish things could be different,
and really;
nothing happens.
You don't remember these days,
and you don't even try too.
On those days I tell stories, but do I make them up?

My eyes slowly make their way open, enough to see the sun shinning through my blinds. I wasn't squinting, because that would have taken too much effort for my tired body, but I could only see a sideways line of my room. I think to myself if I want to remember today;
I don't.
Today doesn't matter.

So, I try to fall back to sleep, with the hot sun on my face, just too tired to get up and shut the blinds. Too tired to move. Too tired to look at my clock, and see what time it is. Too tired to get up for work. Too tired to care that my cat is clawing at the door.
Too tired to look over at the girl sitting on the edge of my bed...

My eyes jerk open.
I scan the room, looking for the girl. I must have been dreaming. Odd.

TO BE CONTINUED...

dreamingadream? [Feb 3, 2009]

My head is heavy against this pillow I call my own. Weirdly, it doesn't feel like my own pillow. Too tired to care, but interested as to why my bed feels different, I run my hands across the bed. This doesn't feel right; maybe this isn't my bed. Maybe i'm not who I think I am. I'm not who I know I am. I'm someone else in this dream...

I look down at my hands, shaking with anger. I don't understand why I'm mad.. How could he do this to me! A voice, my voice; screams out. But it's not my voice. How could he destroy the only thing I had left. Love. Something we shared. She starts to cry, and I realize I know who she is. Her name is Brite Eyes, and in this dream, I am her.

I don't understand. He held it softly in his hands before me; the love I gave him. Once in awhile reaching down to kiss it, but slowly pushing his thumbs into it, and breaking it in two. He gave me my half back, at least he had the balls to do that. Yeah, thanks... No matter how much I joke, this sick feeling wont go away. I don't want too... I'll tell myself over and over..

No.

Don't look down.

As I slowly look down, my hair falls beside my face. The light shines on the little blade; the blade that tears holes in my skin on it's own. The blade that tears holes in my family, in my life. I quickly look up. A mirror. I see my bleached hair, and brown eyes. Breathing heavy, my lips are slightly apart. I push my hair behind my ear, and close my eyes.

I wont do it.

The wet under her eyes has dried, leaving flakes of mascara running down her cheeks, her chin, her neck, staining her shirt. How long has she been crying in this dream? I wonder if I can ask her... myself.

He doesn't understand what he's done. No, Brite Eyes, he doesn't, but I do. Don't cry. Everything will be okay.

Then I woke up knowing that she's not okay.

The Bleachers [Feb. 2, 2009]

I've got my book, my backpack, my mind, all on key. All in tune. Pushing past a few girls who could be 12, I swear. Smelling their sweet perfume as they hurry by, so eager to get to their classes on time, but giving them a little credit because it smells good. I slide my hand along the back door before I push it open. Suddenly filling the cold air pushing against me. I push back and win. I'm outside the school, slowly walking down a long walk way. I wore my glasses today, so I can see things clear enough to know there is no one infront of me, or to the sides.
"Ashlyn!," someone calls from behind me. "Come over here." I turn to look, already knowing that it's ------. I can tell by her voice. Only a few thoughts come to mind, like how she always smells like weed, but she has a really nice hug. How she'll listen to anything you have to say, but you'd never really trust her with anything. We aren't the closest of friends, but i've known her for a very long, long enough to know exactly what she wants.
"Wanna come?" She reaches in her pocket, and I turn away. Weed is stupid.

The wind blows my hair back as I turn the corner, around to the back of the school. I look up, and find what i'm looking for. The bleachers, empty, clear, beautifully mine. My heart starts to speed up, and I start up the steps to the football feild. One, Two, Three, Four, Five...
The bleachers, what a cool name. Bleachers. I say it aloud for just a second, but realize talking to myself will make me look like even more of a loser then I already do. So, I stop myself short. Climbing up each bench, gives me the motivation of a herd of lions. I want to run.

I want to run.

I don't, instead I sit and open my book. The Clan of the Cave Bear, hm. Embarassingly enough, I love to read... I mean, I LOVE TO READ. So, I read pretty much anything anyone tells me. My mom told me to read this one. I flip the book over to the back, and skim the summary. Cave Bears, are you kidding mom? I sigh, and look up. Is there anyway to perfectly describe a snowy, sunny, cold, warmish, beautifully, ugly day?

Didn't think so.

If I could, it'd be the veiw from the Olympus High School bleachers.

My favorite place.

song of the day: CLICK ME.