Assignment #6 Lives

“As long as you live under my roof, you’ll live by my rules.” A phrase we don’t hear very often anymore, but still the wisdom of it stands strong. Parents try to control their teenager’s lives, and their teenagers rebel. They try to mold their child’s lives while they are still young, so that maybe they will grow up to be what their parents wanted, and do what their parents dreamed of them to do.

My dad was always the sports fanatic. Defiantly a “man’s man.” I was the first born of all the grandchildren, so it was kind of a big deal when I was born. It made me feel special when I was little, but now, I hate it. I’m the one who has to set a good example for my brother, and all my cousins, and lets face it, I’m not the model child. I don’t get the best grades, I don’t listen to my parents all that much (or ever, for that matter), and I’m “over-dramatic, sarcastic, and have a major attitude,” in the words of my father. Well, Dad, that’s what is hopefully going to earn me an Oscar one day.

My parents are constantly worried over my well being, and what’s going on in my life. Well, not so much what’s going on in my life. Aside from grades and school and where my life is going academically, they really couldn’t care less about what happens to me. As long as those grades are up, everything’s peachy, right? Wrong. Maybe they should learn to dig a little deeper, read between the lines of the failed tests that I’ve received to see what I’m really feeling.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I completely loathe both of my parents. My mom is pretty awesome; she’s almost one of my best friends. We fight a lot, sure, but usually we fight because of the tension that my Dad seems to instill in everyone in our house. He’s constantly putting me down about how I act, what I wear, and how I’m living my life, with an emphasis on the my part. If I choose to wear black everyday, and not own any colors whatsoever, besides the occasional white or red shirt, why should he stop me? If I choose to listen to the music I want, the music that I love and that inspires me, what can he say that would make me stop listening? If I hang out with the people I want, and I choose to have only one best friend that I am truly close with, what right does he have to make me stop caring, to make me stop seeing her?

This is my life. I should decide whether or not I want to screw it up enough to hurt me. And I if I do screw up my life, hopefully it will hurt him too.

Independent #2

I don't know about this peice. I usually write poems, but this one I just had too much to say, so i wrote sort of a memior I guess? Some of it's true, sort of mixed in with some plots from books I've read. It has an anger/relization theme to it, so, enjoy.



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I am so tired. So tired of all this drama. Things that don’t even deserve a second glance in the real world, but seem to be the main events in ours. I am so tired of you turning me down. And then of course when I’m over you, all you do is pay attention to me, but you still can’t let go of the fact that I’m moving on. And that I won’t be here forever. I can’t wait around for you anymore. I don’t want to.

But it’s you I see all the time, and not him. So I know I’m over you. Especially since you have no problem showing the feelings of anger you have towards me. Because, of all the people to move on to, after you, I had to choose your best friend, right? Is it because he is so similar to you? That I don’t really want to let go of you, and what we had together?

No. It’s because he is so different from you. Sure, you may do some things that are the same, but at least he doesn’t take me for granted. At least he knows. He knows what I would do for you. I would come crawling back to you after you shot me down again, my heart crushed because I thought we had something different. I would always forgive you. And you took advantage of that. I know that he doesn’t, he won’t. He respects me, and knows the hurt I went through because of you.

So here it is. I was so blind to you. You wonder how I ever got over you? The question is, how couldn’t I?

a poem for my best friend!

Morgan Morgan Morgan!
Oh so pretty!
The ducks go quack and the cows go moo!
But Morgan! Oh Morgan.
She only is a boo.

Oh oh Morgan! Oh oh Morgan!
I just wanna squeeze you!
Oh Oh Morgan!
You’re so fun to squeeze!
And you really like piggies
And coffee ice-cream!
Oh Oh Morgan!
MY BEST FRIEND!

Assignment #5 Reilly

When you first came to school, no one talked to you. I already had some friends, but never a best friend, and you were in my class. I don’t remember exactly how it started, but we got to talking, and we started becoming really good friends. No one talked to you, but my friends saw that I liked you, so maybe they would give you a chance.

I’m not saying that if I hadn’t talked to you in those first few days you were new in our class that you would have no friends, but I went out of my way to talk to you, and befriend you. And look how you pay me back years later.

That was in third grade when we first became best friends. But in fourth grade we weren’t in the same class. The friends that I ditched for you were gracious enough to take me back. We still hung out, on the weekends, but you had a new group of friends. I was ok with that. We still got to see each other and we would have so much to talk about since we didn’t see each other during school. But anyone could tell that there were pieces missing. Inside jokes with the girls I despised who had become your close friends. But I held out, pasted a grin on my face a made sure that we kept in touch.

Then fifth grade. It started out like the glory years of the third grade. The dynamic duo was back. We were envied by other girls, we were the leaders of our class. We were the best of friends. But things were different from third grade. Boys didn’t seem so afraid to catch girl’s cooties anymore.

When you started hanging out with boys you would always include me. Maybe it was because you were just afraid of being alone with them. But they never seemed to want me around. I didn’t understand. We had been the same for so long. Shared everything, from school lunches to clothes to dolls to our mothers stolen makeup. And now we were so different, and you were drifting away because of the attention of a few boys on the playground? It didn’t seem right. It wasn’t right. The dynamic duo couldn’t be separated for the longest time…and now we were.

Now everything is ok between us. We are still good friends, but we never hang out. It would be odd if we did…our lives have been separate for so long. But you still call me when you’ve been dumped, or when it’s something serious to do with family and friends. I will always be the first, always be the solid, and always be the best friend.

Independent #1

Usually I just write what comes to me, and whenever it does. This one came in Spanish class. I was just thinking about everyday decisions that people are faced with, and how something that should be so simple really isn't in reality. And how some people just want to forget about something [or someone] and just move on with their lives, but sometimes its not as easy as that either. Basically "things are not always what they seem" is what I was thinking going into this piece.


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Betray for Me

Don’t make me do this
Don’t make me chose
Although its easy
One; brings a glow to my heart
When all I’ve seen is darkness
The other; is in the past, or I want him to be,
And resentment makes me want to tear him down
For tearing my heart to pieces
So why the choosing, why so difficult? It should be easy,
Because what one wont do to the other
[Because who would betray a best friend?]
But I wish he would. I just want to forget the past. What should be the past.