No Title Could Be Right For This Post

I would run if I had legs to run with. I guess that’s my problem; I don’t bother to try finding joy in a substitute movement. If I can’t run due to no legs, I can’t do anything at all.

Leave me to my thoughts, please.
I’m lacking sleep, I know
But that’s not the only thing
That keeps me up at night

I dread going to sleep.
I dread waking up.
I dread going to school.
I dread leaving school.

Maybe it’s because I’m asked questions
Maybe I need my time
Maybe it’s because people test me
Maybe I don’t care why

Paper is put in my hair
People are judging my attitude
They are telling me to ask for help
To be myself
Then interrogating why

I’m okay, you know
I can take care of myself
When countless issues are being depended on my me to solve
I guess all I need is myself

I’m an introvert, whatever
I never asked for your opinion
I work better on my own
Independence is peaceful

I’m not silently begging for help
I don’t care for anyone’s certain attention
My attention span is small
So I wouldn’t be able to return the favor

I feel guilty knowing
That I may not care as much for you
As you do me
And I feel even guiltier
Knowing that I may be overdramatizing my little care

Please, don’t help me
Don’t tell me that I’m wrong
Just point me in the right direction
And show me where to go on my own

I’m waiting for a way out
I’m too tired to search for it
Until then,
I’ll study the way the world works
And hope I catch on

When you’ve been disappointed so much
Why would you act on something?
If you’re like me,
you’ll tell yourself
“I would’ve been disappointed if I tried.”

I’ve been led to believe
that would be my life
then that would
now this

I’ve been given childhood,
my perfect place to be,
now a train wreck of a life

I’m slowly killing myself
From the inside out
That’s what freaks me out

I’m worried that someday I will crash
I’ll find an unhealthy outlet
And I’ll be done for

What I’m worried about most
Is that I’ve already crashed
I’ve found my outlet
And now I’m done for

This can’t be the end of it all.
I plan on moving away
Surrounding myself with happy things
And absorbing the beautifulness

That’ll be the high point–
The main attraction–
The end to all my current fears

Whatever it turns out to be
I’ll have achieved it on my own
I’ll live on my own
I’ll smile because of me
Not because I was helped today
But because I learned to help myself

Perhaps this is my outlet:
I don’t care if anyone ever reads it
As long as my thoughts
Aren’t swimming around in my head
Like goldfish in search of food,
Although they keep gliding in circles

I’m telling you
I hate being told I need help
I won’t really let myself accept it
Because it’s like a sign of weakness

I don’t want to depend on someone else
For something I can just be guided to do
Because that’s when it gets weak
That’s when I admit
That even through all I’ve endured
I’m still not strong enough
Not wise enough
For your instruction

But I’m only a young teen
What do I know, eh?
I don’t know sufferage?
I don’t understand pain?

How about you show me then
Tell me what I don’t know
Then at least we could say
I tried

I’ve cried myself to sleep
I’ve imagined suicide
I’ve read about hardship
I’ve studied others’ bad decisions
I’ve seen others at their most vulnerable
I’ve been the outlet and backlash for people
I’ve been left and told to move on
I’ve been pushed, shoved, kicked, swatted, cursed at

I know more than enough
You just misunderstand
But you don’t know if you do or don’t
Because there is no way
To make you see what I see

We don’t see things how they are.
We see things how we are.
That’s why it’s so hard to sympathize.

No, no, no
Blah, blah, blah
Shush, shush, shush
Punish, punish, punish

This is my peace,
Explaining why life is unforgivable
So others can relate
And I can finally rest
Knowing I let all I could out

I’d be fine
If we parted ways
I bet you would be too
We’re only people

So I guess we are all human
And should have mutual relationships
With each other

We should understand,
Think hard
Write our thoughts down
And just do as we please

Because if I don’t find my peace
And if the world isn’t silent soon enough,
I don’t know if it’s worth trying
Until it’s all over with



Last year:
My hair was frizzy.
I didn’t have a role model.
I didn’t realize there were so many levels to health.
I was confused.
I was nervous because I hadn’t been in my rightful home in a few years.
I held a grudge.
I did not accept the attention that was given to me.
I was not, nawt, daring or brave.
I had trouble stepping out of my comfort zone.
I was minorly bullied by only one person (whom I did not care for, so it didn’t really bother me, but it still happened)
I did not have a hobby that I was passionate about and did not mess up.
My brain had started to grow up faster than my feelings wanted me to.

Now (right this moment):
My hair, for one, looks a LOT better.
My role model is Michelle Phan, who is positive and has showed me that there is hope still in the world, and it really isn’t fading.
I am teaching myself more about the health in my family and how health controls ourselves.
I’m getting brighter and brighter every day.
I moved again, but I’m settling, you know?
I don’t hold grudges much, if at all.
A smile and thank-you to the givers of attention shows that I’m thankful.
I’m more outgoing and will speak my mind when needed. That has come in handy.
I step out of my comfort zone and don’t think about any nerve-racking emotions. That keeps me from holding back.
Thankfully, I don’t see the bully. I stood up for myself, and they are now just a person that I knew in 6th grade. Their opinion actually helped me improve.
My hobby? Makeup. And it hasn’t failed me before.
Believe me, my brain and feelings are learning to focus.

I don’t realize that while I’m tearing myself down with what I’m bad at, I have progressed so much with different goals already. I’m even a lot better at things than before. There are still issues I need to sort out, I know. But I see I have this over aiming expectation of reality that is impossible to satisfy. And next time I think about what perfection is to me, I should try to think of who I know who is perfect.

I’ve learned that also: “Before you judge someone, make sure you’re perfect.”

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I just needed to get a few things sorted out, as you can see, before I decided to let anybody know.

“Life’s not secretive. Why should it be? People try to keep secrets, but everything becomes information the public eye at one point.”

“I am Nobody, who are you?
Are you Nobody too?”
-Emily Dickinson

So Be It

Look at this video. Then turn back to this post.

First of all, I say that everything in that video explains what state of mind I have when it comes to people. I guess that shows that I’m more understanding than most people my age.

To me what they’re saying in that video works for everyone, every label: blonde or brunette; hater or lover; clingy or alone; funny or serious; x or y. It almost links with the statement, “Treat others you want to be treated.”

People should be able to be themselves no matter what, without judgement. When you know everything about me, I may allow you to judge. But until then, my, and everyone else’s, look belongs to us, not you. So I should dress and act and be whatever I want, as long as I’m not purposely trying to offend someone.

Individuality seems to be the key ingredient to why getting along with others seems to, somehow, be hard. Ya know, people have a certain “type” of person they want to talk to, hang out with, etc. And for some people more than others, interacting with anyone who isn’t within the look or doesn’t have the quality could be hard to do without (how could this be said nicely?) “disliking them” and/or “bringing them down with negativeness”.

But, really? It can’t be hard to cooperate with people who are different.

This is going in an odd direction. To conclude I’m saying that that video means a lot and I think more people should think like how those girls are. Just my opinion.

It Killed Me

After a certain amount of time, you realize that everything you said, everything you swore wouldn’t happen to you, was an unkept promise.

I said I wouldn’t be even slightly dumb. I said I wouldn’t mush with the group. I said I wouldn’t trip over cordless phones. I said I wouldn’t know an in-crowd. I told myself that I would never, ever let myself feel vulnerable and confused. Yet now that’s exactly who I am and what I do.

But who cares if I hate my life. If I can’t remember ever being in a happy family. If I haven’t seen my parents happy in the same room for most of my life. If my family tolerates saying things to each other that, I swear, kills them a little more inside every time. If my own sister scares me, because her actions do kill me inside and she loves the idea of not caring to hurt others but crying when it happens to her. No one cares that everything I say has a filter because I want to be courteous. That I’m twelve and have already learned what it’s like to cry to sleep or cry as soon as I get home. That I push some people away when they become my friends. That I am crying as I write this. That I rue myself for being who I am and having the life that I am hardly living. That I feel like hell, like I don’t even want to continue this life, but I haven’t even lived the worst parts yet.

I hate little things like how quickly live moves. It hurts like a kick in the neck how quickly people get sick of me.

I want my name to live on, even if I don’t see it with my own eyes. But no. So far I’ve made more mistakes than I have made sense.

I was dragged to another state. I knew that it was a bad idea. Then I made friends. I had a new, lovely life. Then the biggest ass ever made us move back. So that experience gave me a new perspective then ripped away almost everything that made me happy.

I was left with my family. And now, something with everyone except my aunt, dad, and stepmom has brought me to my knees. It could’ve been a mental stress-related breakdown, or a promise to not do bad things broken. And no one has an excuse for pushing me into the backlash.

But now I’ve let it bestow upon me. My life has been torn apart into the smallest pieces possible, and this is nothing I could ever recover.

What if I hadn’t moved? What if they knew how I feel? What if they knew what I’d do if I knew how to speak? What if they saw the difference between a face and a mask? What if–

What if I never said a single word?

Promise It, Fix It, Change It


It’s a funny word, isn’t it?
Yet this one noun, and it’s root word ‘insecure’, are one of the most common reasons for bulling, self-doubt, depression, and so much more. So much that I can’t help but question how funny of a word it really is. It’s more of a serious word, actually.

I don’t think I was clear on the post “Satisfaction, Maybe?”. I was jumping from one idea to the next and even I was confused like, What did I just write?

What I really wanted to explain was that I don’t think I, and/or a lot of people, are really grateful of what goals we make and do accomplish.

Confession: I make mental promises to myself for what I can improve. And I don’t tell anyone what those promises are when I make them. This is a real list of things I was/and insecure about and made MPs (mental promises) for:
•Hair Color
•Light Skin
•Lack of Sleep
•Long Showers
•Bitterness/How Much I Hold A Grudge
•Weight (No, really.)
•No Muscles
•Bad Fitness Test Scores
•Curly Hair
•”Lack of Thinking”
•Thinking Too Much
•Judging People By Their Looks
•Teeth (braces and decalcification)
•”Lack of Talent/Originality”
•Writer’s Block
•Being So Easily Hurt

That’s a long list. I realized that.
Did you know that Capricorns (which I am) are known for striving for perfection and fearing that they will lose all of it out of nowhere? That describes me perfectly. And it describes why I’m so superstitious about having MPs.

But this is the dramatic part. I hadn’t realized how much I had accomplished and how much I worked on those little habits and qualities until this year. Until September, probably. I looked in the mirror, looking for flaws to bite at my confidence, and I didn’t see much. In fact I had realized just how pretty I should know I am. And I do know it, it’s just hard to believe that I am more than pretty if I regularly notice the worst things about myself.

I’ll always be insecure. No matter if I don’t like my physical appearance or my state of mind. And nothing will ever change that. But I now know that those little tidbits aren’t trying to bring me down, they are giving me ways to improve.

So this is a list of things that I have accomplished or am working on from the previous list:
Hair Color
•Light Skin
Lack of Sleep
Long Showers
Bitterness/How Much I Hold A Grudge
•No Muscles
•Bad Fitness Test Scores

Curly Hair
“Lack of Thinking”
Thinking Too Much
Judging People By Their Looks
•Procrastination (lol nope)
Teeth (braces and decalcification)
“Lack of Talent/Originality”
Writer’s Block
Being So Easily Hurt

That. Is. Nearly. All. Of. Them.
Also this piggybacks on the fact of how much thinking I do. I am aware of myself and body so I can catch something and change it.
Really, it astounds me how much we don’t think of all the great things we have done, because many people are doing the same thing I did before: focusing on the things that make us think the worst.
So to conclude I think that we all need to look at how great we are and see what we have done positively. I mean, I like being satisfied. And that list surely made me feel good about myself.
(Try it yourself! Make a list of all the things you’ve been insecure about and cross off or check off the things you have gotten over or achieved the best of. Good luck!)

Love, M🎀

School Ranttt

There are a few things that should be understood here…

Lunch Tables
All I want is two things for the table I sit at: 1) It should be clean. It’s like five feet from the thrash bins, and I came to lunch today and there’s a milk bottle and used napkins just sitting there… Why? And 2) If usually the people at my table are mean to you but not to each other, yet you keep sitting with us, and you didn’t sit with us at the beginning of the year, why are you sitting with us? Where’d your other seat go? I’m getting really annoyed by this point and tomorrow I think I’m gonna snap.

Lunch food
I just.. Why is the food so gross? why are we getting Grade D food? Is this how the young students should be feeding themselves?
Last year someone saw a red ant in their strawberry milk. Already the milk has 140 calories and at least 80 grams of sugar. This is just… ewww!
I haven’t made myself lunch at home for at least a week, and eating that muck is not what I want to substitute a healthy lunch for. But I don’t have much of a choice.

Dress Code/Rules
Uniforms: ‘kay.
Tuck in your shirt: Not that hard.
Only two shades of pants: Uh, okay?
No sporty shoes, moccasins, etc.: Ugh.
Not many dress-down days: Really?
No outside sweatshirts: What? Why?
No hugging: That’s a pr–?
You have to sit on the team-dominated side of the cafeteria: You’re going too far.
No ID=detention: Please, stop.
Teachers will be outside their doors at the beginning of each period, watching you closely: Omigod, just stop!
If you disobey these rules you will go to the principal’s office, call home, suspension, whatever, the teachers don’t care: Stop! I’m switching schools!
Need I say more?

I am stuck. I get classes with students who don’t care if they ruin it for everyone else, cause us to waste our time, and are encouraged by their friends to keep doing what they’re doing.
Then us hard-working students tell them to stop and we face either theirs or the teacher’s wrath.
Or there are hardworking students who are annoying and aren’t even trying as hard as you, but they get scores and high-fives a zillion times better than us.
I swear, in class: They’re there. In the cafeteria: They’re there. On the way home: They’re there. While I’m sleeping: They’re there.

No, just no.
I don’t have any choice over what I want to do, because there are no choices. There’s Spanish, but no French. Extracurriculars have to be 200% educational (so my idea of a makeup or, since I forgot the word, CEO-ish club is out). I don’t like all my teachers, and although that is, I guess, normal, I never will have a reason to like them! I can’t even.

So, yeah, that’s my rant. Honestly that just needed to be told.
I’ll write again soon. Bye!


Imagine this:

You are home
You feel useless
Like the whole world came clear,
and you found out its only a mess.
You think that your whole life
will be all effort, no happiness in return
Because that is all it has been,
even to this day

But you go to school
And to your surprise, you’re happy
All the tears from last night?
Gone, like it never happened
Everything is just okay
because you still remember sadness,
and you still aren’t smiling 24/7,
but you have your friends
and you are doing good in school
and some teachers know how
to make you smile

Then you get home
and, almost immediately,
the feeling of happiness is gone.
Like today’s life just left your soul
now you remember why you were
Everything just…
hit you.

Although it’s really unexplainable,
it seems too easy to explain

But all you know is that,
as you see it,
this is how it will always be
You will always come home happy
and never like the way you turn out
You learn a lot from what you do
when you’re alone
Yet you’re unsure if there’s ever
a difference between
alone, and crowded, but lonely

Yeah, you’re right.
Right there, in a place in your mind,
you know this is depressing
and that it won’t last forever

But no matter what you tell me
No matter how much you say
to lift my spirits
Nothing could make me feel different
Even if this is normal
like this happens to everyone
So many people act like they it didn’t
happen to their very souls.

Expected to act like adults,
Treated like children.
The adults that treat us this way
know the sad feeling
but they tell us to feel better
to freaking cheer up.
But I can bet the world’s riches
that they didn’t follow that advice
when they were our ages.

Of course they didn’t.
But what makes them expect
that we can learn so quick?
And when we are treated with such…
Disrespect, pity, so forth.

You are treated with so little respect
and love
at home.
You don’t know what to do
besides sit there,
lonely, because no one
anything like you are.

And then they ask for respect,
like it should come to them for free,
when you work your butt off
and get nothing in return.

You feel like you’re going through
a time warp
back to slavery,
back to the Great Depression,
back to World War 2 and the Holocaust
back to any time
that one,
because of a number,
no matter on their arm,
or on their birth certificate,
has been treated like this.

It’s not being over dramatic.
It’s not hormones.
Adults just don’t see eye to eye
because they aren’t being treated
in this stupid way.
Not the same way.

But guess what?
When some people
don’t have the strength
to push through like you do,
all you can do is dream of leaving.

And that’s

Now that you’ve experienced
all the sorrow
and been reminded of it,
how will you act
the next time you’ve looked down
on one another?

The Golden Rule–
Treat others the way you want to be treated.

Be respectful of our teachers? I respect whoever respects me back, regardless of age.

Why does nobody understand?
They tell us to be respectful
when they are doing sinful things
all on their own.

ThIs DoEsN’t MaKe SeNsE.

So, now that you’ve gotten that
through your mind
and I’ve let it it out,
tell me
what’s the difference?

I go through this feeling every day.
I hate being treated by certain people
with so little care
yet they call it love.

Every day,
I am mentally forced to be depressed
and to feel like crying
all over again.
I don’t smile around these
selfish people.
I wish I could switch them
for the other.

But you know what?
I have the dignity
and self-respect
to just keep swimming.
There is nothing else to do.
And that’s the truth.