Surprised? I was.

I haven't moved

But my heart is thwacking on my insides like I've leaped a hundred miles.

An empty echo thumps behind my eyes in counterpoint 

To the piercing thready note lingering just within my ears.

Shock.

A sudden panic.

Something has changed.

That was unexpected.

ACK ACK ACK ACK ACK ACK ACK

*eagle screech of surprise/terror*

whoooooooooops.

TW: complaint

I'm writing this pathetic little song
About how much I hate being alone.
It's not a tune that will last very long.
It's mostly just me staring at my phone.
I thought that sunset meant fun times would start.
I spent the whole day lying on my bed,
Anticipation rising in my heart,
Some indistinct plan floating through my head,
But nothing came of all my falt'ring dreams.
It turns out no one wants to hang with me.
They're busy with whatever else. It seems
I'll spend the night with vids and VLC.
I'd like to shake this off with a good cry
But I'm too dead inside to even try.

Saturday nights aren't meant for solitude

BOOOOOOORED.

I've self-identified as an introvert all my life, but sometimes I wonder if that's incorrect. Tonight is definitely a wondering night.

I really want to see people. Really want to. I am growing desperate in my sadness.

Everyone else is out tonight. Even my mom is doing some shopping. I have been lying on my bed staring at the ceiling hoping someone wants to see me, or at least won't mind my presence. I even put forth inquiries, and that's rare enough.

I don't want to be alone. Not right now. I have had plenty of time to myself; don't need any more.

As for me...

I write stuff occasionally. I just can't turn most of it in for a class review, now can I? Because they wouldn't get it/would probably be a bit scandalized.

Everyone is writing such serious stuff, by the way. It's all biblical story retellings or stories about broken families or the pain of a little girl bullied or a girl who killed her best friend in an accident or a high-style play about wizards and kings or poems about what the world needs.

I'm a little person in a little sphere and I write about what I know.

Maybe that means what I say won't speak to a great audience, because it's so personalized to me, specifically. The stuff I say isn't going to ring of truth or of great experience, because I haven't got any of that. All I have is the little life I have lived. (And all the fictional lives I have watched played out in so many different permutations of what life can be.)

I suppose it's better that I don't try to make grand statements. Everyone else can have those.

To OTPs

The forger taunts his oft-besuited friend
Two gods have faced each other 'cross a crown
Their kingdom prince and wizard will defend
Detective and his doctor race through town
A genius and his mentor practice law
Wheelchaired professor calms a metal mind
The student snarks but grabs the werewolf's paw
A pair of kinsmen hopes true love to find
Young master's valet makes all wrong things right
TV's the bond between two college guys
The righteous man and angel still must fight
A captain and his first sail o'er the skies
All these and more have taken residence
Inside my heart, whose chambers are immense.

you tried

A kid in Creative Writing tried to write a sonnet today. 

I say kid because he is one of about 3 on campus who looks 13 years old. I am not exaggerating. At least now I know his name.

I say tried because he got the rhyme scheme alright, but the meter was hackneyed. 

*gold star*

I admire effort. I think it was pretty cool that he went out on the limb that he did, going full-on formal poetry like that. 

Still...

it wasn't a sonnet.