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If this house could talk, boy let me tell you it wouldn’t be happy.

Every word you here would be muffled by the cries

Of a house that’s been sufferin for so long, too long. 

This house has seen so many tears from so many eyes.

Its heard so many words from so many mouths

That are never meant to leave ya mind.

This house would be tellin you that it knows more pain than anyone should.

It knows a girl who has been crying for so long she forgot how to smile.

It knows her daughter who feels so unwanted

That she doesn’t think shes even worthy of this house she calls home.

It knows the mother, the one who tries to feel like everything is ok

Who doesn’t let no one see her cry

Who is a young mother and a young grandmother

Who hides those pills in her room till the time she needs them

This house knows the man who owns it

The man who instills fear in every person that steps in that house

The man who has hurt so many with the words of his mouth and the sting of his hands

Then this house would tell you how scared it is.

It would tell you that it is so scared

That little girl

Just a baby just turned 5

Hardly knows the world.

No one wants her to be like that sister of hers

No one wants her to grow up in pain

But this house is so scared because it knows that this little girl needs her sister

This house knows that this little girl will one day have to know

Her sister aint even her real sister

This house would tell you that it can see

This little girl is gonna have to live without a dad and with a broken mother.

So let me tell you if this house could talk there would be so much pain

Global warmin wouldn’t mean nothin 

The flood of our tears, of your tears would flood the world on its own.

When that day comes that this house does talk

Don’t ever forget that it is broken and in pain

But this house has always been strong enough

Strong enough to protect a family who needs love that this unspoken house gives.

It was noon when I told her -- her being a woman named Roberta who is prone to hysterics at the sheer mention of Monaco, bastard children, blonds, brunettes, tabby cats, or breakfast cereal due to the rather infamous actions of her eldest son at the end of the oh so harrowing France-Australia war -- of the very dead gentleman now adorning her critically acclaimed gnome sanctuary (a body which came to be in its present state, oh Reader, when a young, vivacious, albeit paranoid and often ridiculous woman from a small Minnesota town, who decided to leave her childhood home to join this small grouping of wayward individuals in Montana, including the befuddled Roberta, in the hopes of escaping the seemingly ever-present feeling of dread that stemmed from her growing realization that the world existed beyond the scope of her limited and often quite morose imagination, perceived she was in danger and being stalked as she walked home from her unfulfilling employment as the town’s assistant deputy sidewalk and bike lane inspector - a familiar feeling for this paranoid lass which tends to manifest itself most aggressively in the evening hours of a mildly comfortable day with a 50% chance of rain after ten, when she decided for safety’s sake to attack the assailant that was “undoubtedly” prowling behind with her purse bayonet, killing him instantly with his last thought being one of confusion as to why this crazed woman stabbed him while he was walking to his sister’s house.)

In the time of 2011, where coffee is god, where 80s/retro music reinvent’s the style of spring and fall with bulky sweaters and no care attitude that takes over the airways with “fight the power of the prepster “ defining the American youth, where v necks and large words get used such as cultivate, Ablutophobia & Haussmannize are accompanied with sly insults making the normal kid say “what!” teenagers blow up the population with condescending phrases therefore making assholes born and no more traces of friendliness available in the mellow pastime of the “Cookie cutter lifestyle”, where the an average sixteen year old can respond on the changing fashions of Monet with a French dialect while cheap coffee is being sipped in the mouth of the future, where in any other circumstances a child would be worried about the latest movie but, no now time has changed; Asshole have taken over the population, where smoking a cigarette and chi tea plus not going green a stigma of pure disgrace young innocent teenage minds has morphed into the 2011 frame here I stand here eighteen years of life having a large grasp on the person I am today and where I want to be instead of frantically running around like a chicken with my head cut off I’d regained my own internal being.

Dear Bianca,

There have been a lot of things going through my mind lately about you going into the military. Please don’t think that I am mad at you or I don’t want to support you, because I do. I admire you so much for having the guts and the bravery to enroll yourself into that line of duty. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to stand up in front of their country and place their life on the line to protect us.

You are my best friend here in school and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. When we get mad at each other, it’s a pain in the ass. As annoying as it is sometimes to come in 7:50 in the morning and listen to you yell and scream about the crack whore on the El who wanted to fight you, I enjoy it because I know there is no one else like you. There is no one else that I can experience that with and I love you for that.  You just have to understand where I am coming from.

It’s a lot to take in, watching your best friend stress over filling out her forms to place herself in the military. You WILL be out there fighting, you WILL be out there risking your life, and frankly, that scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to you lose you, I never do, and you have to understand where your sister and I are coming from. I wish I didn’t have to talk to you about this, which is partially the reason I am writing you this letter because if I do try and tell you this in person, I will probably start crying.

Mrs. Hull approached me this morning because she feels like none of your friends are supporting you and I want you to know that I am by your side 100%, as crazy as your ideas and views may be, I will always be there for you. It took 4 years to fully understand you and I am happy that I do. I am so proud of you and your choices, please don’t ever think that I am not going to be by your side. I love you so much, like I said, you’re my best friend and one of the only people that I can trust these days. I want you to continue on with this because I know how dedicated you are to doing this and I wish I had your bravery.

Just be careful and always remember that everyone loves you. If you ever need anyone to talk to, you know I am here, by your side, every day, 24/7, 100%.

(:

I LOVE YOU<3.

Love,

Misssy.

Soon I will be posting pages from my short chapter book that I am writing, I decided to make a post about the story instead of making this post an actual story so that you can be introduced to the idea.

            The story is about zombies, but I tried to make it more about the people then the actual zombies, with a lot of characters the story was hard to write simply because I never wrote something this long. Keeping track of the plot was a small difficulty, and I’m not so sure I like everything I have, but that’s for you guys to judge not me.

            The reason I wanted to do a story about zombies is because I find it the most interesting way to end the human race. (or potentially end). In a zombie outbreak all people must put aside differences and hatred to stay alive, and everyone is a fighter, even therapists have to fight.  The story is called Incident Z and there is some profanity in it, and some gore, readers discretion is advised

Jimmy was in an annoyed hateful mood, and was playing a violent video game to help with his stress. He had a long day and was just generally mad at humanity. His mother would try to talk to him, and jimmy would ignore her. Jimmy went on like this for the whole day, until his phone went off. Jimmy looked at the caller ID and was surprised to see the name oh his formal youth group leader. They used to meet every Wednesday with several of Jimmies friends, they played games and discussed God. Jimmy answered the phone

            “hey Lisa, how are you?” Jimmy asked

            “good, what about you”

            “fine” Jimmy said, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to have to explain himself .

            “What are you doing tonight?”

            “Nothing”

            “Good can I pick you up in an hour?”

            Confused Jimmy agreed, but felt a little uneasy. He had not spoken to his youth group leader for at least a few months and was surprised to hear from her. Jimmy trusted her though and got ready to go. When she arrived she beeped her horn and Jimmy was quick to leave his house. He realized that although he was confused he didn’t really care where he went. Just to get out of the house was nice. The car ride was a quite one, with few words exchanged, just the usual “hi, how are you, its good to see you”

             The car stopped Lisa got out of her car and handed a bag to Jimmy, who looked into the bag and saw 5 fruit cups. “come on Jimmy, were going to feed the homeless, but watch out for the cops, technically this is illegal”

            Jimmy was very confused now, but glad that they were back to a usual routine giving food to the homeless. This time however was different because they were giving food out to homeless men in a train station. Jimmy never did anything like this except in a homeless shelter. It was over in no time, and by the time Jimmy got home he had completely forgotten about his mood of hatred, and felt good about feeding the needy, he even got a few “god bless you”s and “thank you”s whiche made Jimmy realize that just because the world is so messed up, does not mean that humanity is lost. What he did that day meant a lot to him, and sure it was a small thing, but he was happy to have done it.