I was cleaning out stuff from my room, and came across a collection of writings I wrote for a school project at the end of this past year. I read through it, and I've decided to subject you all to the horrid writing that lies within it.

'Knowledge'

To many people in this world,
It seems like knowledge of
Random facts takes
Precedence over having knowledge of feelings, or the workings of a
Child's mind.
I have seen this many times. Parents let the schools and the
Televisions teach their children,
Let the media shove facts down their
Throats.
I am victim of this, myself. I
Blockaded my feelings, rationalizing them as I would a
Scientific paper, cataloging instead of
Feeling.
Perhaps getting rid of the phony
Knowledge standards would clean up this
Mess.
Perhaps it's already too late, and I should just
Let go of my ideas of
Change, of reform.
Perhaps....


'People'

A million smiling sheep are watching me,
Taunting me with happiness.
A million brainwashed drones are greeting me,
Shaking my hand like limp fish.
A million eyes, glassy and dull.
A million limp handshakes.
Is all we are now?
Is there still culture to be found, or has the
Descent into decadence begun?
Are we dying as a race, letting our minds
Atrophy?
Are we waiting for some doctor to come and cut off the
Decay?

The human race has seen its days of
Glory.
We are falling, falling through the black shrouds of oblivion.
There is no future here.
We are destined to be
Extinguished.
Some part of me hopes it will happen within my
Lifetime.




'Secrets'

Secret dreams.
Secret wants.
Secret desires.
You have them, I have them too.
It is part of being human, I think, to want to be more than you are.
Some deny that part of them, creating unfed monsters.
Some try to become their dreams.
Some of us, well, some of us don't dare to dream anymore.
Some of us are too afraid to, too afraid of what others will do to our secrets if we let them
Out of our grasp.
Some of us only dream when we're alone, for fear of being laughed at.
Some of us have given up on our dreams.
I wish that I could be what I dream of.
I wish I could be different.
I wish that I could take the form of the people I write about, and live as them forever.
I wish I could do what my characters can, to heal without scarring, to change their skin.
I want to be more than human.
My species disappoints me. I don't want to be human anymore.
Let me go.
Let me live my life as a different soul.

Mom's Back....

All of this weekend, my stepdad was in Boston for a Morris dancing thing. Last night he came home at 9:30 pm to a house that smelled like rice pudding. All seemed well. Mom was relaxed, I had rice pudding and new comics. Nothing seemed wrong.

Fast forward an hour to 10:30 pm, where I am almost asleep. Suddenly, Mom's screaming split the quiet of the house. For the next 15-20 minutes, she's screaming the same thing, almost incoherently, while pacing up and down the house. She was screaming about how she didn't feel human, and that my stepdad didn't listen to her. Eventually, she quieted down, and I managed to sleep.

For those of you not familiar with my mother, these kinds of episodes are, unfortunately, all too common. They range from stuff like this to throwing dangerous objects like frying pans and pots of boiling water. She will even do this outside of the home, like she did at a hockey parent-coach night where she yelled at the board of directors about something completely irrelevant. This is the crap that makes me want to leave her house. Permanently.

On a positive note, she's getting over of technological stalkers enough to consider buying me..... a netbook! *cue the crickets here* Yes, really. She's actually deciding that I'm old enough for her to consider letting me have more technological responsibility in my life, and that I won't get eaten by stalkers who will pull me through the computer screen. Notice that she's deciding this now. Never mind the fact that I've been saying this for, oh, a few years now! Even now, I'm typing this on a computer that she limits the time on. Yep.

Ah, Mom.