what makes me human.

I fill my lungs with air hundreds of times every day,
          without even really having to work to do so.
The heart in my body is
           weak,
           tired,
           and exhausted from beating all day
           and falling in love with to many people
           and so many things.
My mom makes me talk about things that I don't want to talk about,
           but I do any way because she likes hearing about my day.
Emotions and feeling are constantly controlling my mood.
            Sadness,
            fear,
            happiness,
            and excitement.
Blood runs through my veins and reminds me of things that bring tears to my eyes.
             Why her?
             What was so bad about earth that you decided to leave?
             How come I can't want more simple things in life?
My heart has a beat that is unlike any other
               and is the beat that I walk to everyday of my life.
Memories roll down my checks as I remember the nights that I wish I could go back to.
               New Years Eve in 9th grade.
               Insidious 3 at 11:30 p.m.
               Remember the Titans, and a friend falling down the stairs.
               A new baby being brought into this world.
               And family being reunited.
My lungs fill with air,
     my heart is a workaholic,
          mothers can being annoying but also the most understanding,
               emotions over power everything,
                    blood has to run to power everything else and,
                         good memories are better than no memories.
While I might not really like it, this is what makes me human. 

Flowers hiding emptiness

I have flowers covering my eyes and behind them are dark pits of emptiness and terror. Blinding the world from seeing into who I truly am and what secrets are hidden farther down in my soul than Alice would have ever been able to find. The rest of the world sees the flowers and beauty while I see the inside of my own being and the terrors that are all mine. 

Different yet the same.

Seniors, all with our own outlooks on life and our own style of living. Walking by each other believing we are all so different, when in reality we really aren't. Outside of the way we look and our style we are all identical.
All struggling to understand calculus and praying that we get higher than a 24 on the ACT.
All wishing for graduation to come faster but not wanting to have to go our separate ways in 10 months.
All seeking to find what we are going to do on Friday night and wanting to go to Homecoming.
All going up the canyon on the weekends and participating in everything cause its going to end sooner than we will admit that we want it to.
All going on college tours and planing senior trips.
All wishing that one certain person would notice us and all saying this is our last after every event we go to.
All getting emails and letters from schools and all staying out later than we know we should.
All finally getting to scream 'SENIOR YEAR' and all stressing to pass classes so we can walk at graduation in May.
All going through the same things at the same time just in different ways.
So  while we are all different in so many ways, we are more alike than we all think.

3.7 seconds

remember your little sisters face as she left for her first day of middle school, and the high pitched screams of excitement that come from your niece when she finally gets to come to your house for the first time in days. remember why you get so full of joy when that one song comes on the radio. remember how protected you feel when you get a hug from your mom when you get home from school, and the joy you always get while being with the people you love.
Don't let the life of living in high school make you forget all the little things that make you happy for 3.7 seconds. Don't go walking down the halls believing that you are just one of the 2,500. Take out your headphones and lift your head up, separate yourself and become extraordinary. remember all the things that bring you joy for 3.7 seconds and turn them into 37,000 seconds.

I never stopped using my crayons.

Crayons coming in a box of 24, perfect and ready for the first day of school as a child. All screaming and crying out to be used and be the chosen color of the sky that day. Wanting to get used and no longer be perfect. This is my favorite part about crayons, being perfect and then after being used once are no longer perfect but have created perfect art.
As children we would create  perfect art and get it put on the fridge and get a gold star. Then we got older and were told that our art had to look a certain way to be perfect, and only certain things made it to the fridge and gold stars were harder to find than shooting stars in the night sky. So for me it wasn't that I lost my crayons or they were taking away, I just stopped showing people that I used them. I never stopped using them.
I still use them and create things on paper that are hidden away under my bed that don't get out to see others very often. Instead of being proud of what I create with my crayons I hide it away and keep it to myself in fear of not getting it put on the fridge.
I still create and dream, not in the same ways as I did when I was a child. I still use crayons and markers just creating different things and seeing the world with a new perspective and putting what I feel onto paper in ways that I never would have thought of as a child.
I never stopped using my crayons.

2100 days

2100 days.
12 years.
4 schools.
2/3 of my life.
Is all coming to an end sooner than I ever thought.
From backpack wars to having to move to a new school.
From my favorite teacher ever to the year I found my best friend in the whole world.
From my first crush to having food thrown at me during lunch.
From getting a locker and using it everyday to discovering One Direction.
From the comunity locker and the ‘‘best country in America'' to finally being a Knight.
From losing someone forever to the last first day of high school and all the rest of the lasts to come.
2100 days coming to an end and everything in life changing in the blink of an eye.
Its almost here and its scary to think of leaving the bubble that has worked as a protector for the last 12 years.
12 years of my life learning as much as one can at my age to be prepared to wonder out into the whirwind of real life.
4 schools where I meet people who changed my life, and helped form me into who I am today.
2/3 of my 17 years of life behind me that prepared me for the 70 years of life ahead of me.
2100 days.
12 years.
4 schools.
2/3 of my life.
All spent creating me.

definitions.

words have definitions creating meaning and purpose.

people just the same have things that define them and make them who they are. 

but also alike words can have more than one meaning, and people the same can have more than one thing that defines them. 

The Hats Side.

You remember the Cat in the Hat and the tricks and amazing things the hat could do, and all the unforgettable memories of Dr. Seuss.
The Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland and the fact that his hat is almost twice his body size.
Indiana Jones and his many adventures that were all done while wearing his famous tan fedora.
Harry Potters sorting hat that determined your social status at Hogwarts for the next few years, and pretty much your whole life.
Abraham Lincoln and the significance of his lanky figure along with his top hat just adding to the height.
Michael Jackson had his white shimmery glove, but also a coal black fedora to go along with it in almost every one of his shows.
Hats, all around with different stories to tell.
We always look at the person wearing the hat and wonder why they are wearing a hat that day or what significance that hat has, but we never look at the hat.
Where has it been?
Who has it seen?
Where did it come from?
What is the hats story?
While the person could be wearing the hat for many different reasons stop and look at the hat instead of the person.
Is it worn and torn, showing that it has been worn a lot and is very loved by the user?
Does it look brand new and is getting out to see the world for its first time ever?
Has it been passed down, is it grandpas hat that he gave you and now you cherish because he is gone, or is it the hat that smells like home and reminds you of your dad?
Look for the story that the hat has to tell because a lot of the time it will have a different story than the person wearing it, and it will open up and be more willing to share than the person wearing it, all you have to do is look and listen.
So next time you see someone wearing a hat, don't look at the person, look at the hat.