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Where I come from, it always rains.
 Sunshine comes twice a year.
Its nice around these parts when it isnt raining.
It goes from a 67 degree rainy day to a 85 sunny day.
Great, wonderful, unbelievable.

Do you know where I live?

This world is slippen, underneath everything.​

This whole world, is slippen underneath.​

Yesterday I broke out in hives. I never scratched myself that much ever.

Mi nombre Kyler Jones. Tengo 12 años. Me encantar dormor y caminar. No me gusta mirar tevo. No me gusta Facebook.Me amor dibujar. No me gusta escuela y trabajamos, es no artístico. Soy muy distraído.

March 7, 2011
Dear Diary,
    I can’t believe he called me in such a panic. Why would he even risk letting anyone know? Its has almost been a year, why now? He knows that my mom could pick up the other phone on the same line at any time. I shouldn’t even have to write in a journal with a lock meant for a locker attached to it. I do what I have to there is no way that anyone could find out about what I did. My life would be over, my mom would never forgive me.
He had the nerve to call me and ask me should we just come clean. I didn’t know what to say to him, I sat there silently for a moment then hung up.
I went above and beyond to avoid him today in school. I cut science class and lunch. I couldn’t see his face or sit next to him knowing that he is thinking about outing the truth.

Mi nombre es Aaron. Tengo 15 años. Soy bastante comico. Por lo tanto soy sociable. Es por eso que casi nunco participar activamenta en la clase. También, soy talentoso.

Man I wish I knew. I wish I knew it then. But I won’t let it stop me, you know I’ll be back again. All the mistakes I made, troubles that I live in. It shaped me into the person you see standing here. I wish you knew me. Back when I was young. You can see me and just how far I've come. So don’t judge me. You don’t know me. Please, believe me

You are the baking soda to my acid burn.
You are my royal title in this monarchy-less age.
You are the nearby stick to my poo-covered shoe.
You are the French checkbook to my American Revolution.
You are used by me and appeased by metaphors. 
​

I have wanted to be to many places,
To leave and forget myself in time,

Surrounded by unfamiliar faces,
But feel as though I am blind.

To be somewhere that the world embraces,
A height that I could never climb,

And all the memories this city erases,
But leaves me with eternal sublime.

my lungs fail at life. So I just take my meds & sleep until they decided to want to work for me again. 

I wish I had amnesia so I could forget what you look like. What you did was wrong in so many ways. But I hated you for something else too. Right then, and at every moment since you left – all I did was think about you. You made me love you in a desperate way. All I wanted was your smell- your arms around me. It was wrong for me to feel that way. That’s what I hated the most.

I wish I had amnesia so I could forget what you look like. What you did was wrong in so many ways. But I hated you for something else too. Right then, and at every moment since you left – all I did was think about you. You made me love you in a desperate way. All I wanted was your smell- your arms around me. It was wrong for me to feel that way. That’s what I hated the most.

I always count on the humble, honest rhythm of a workman's hammer to put my mind at ease. That feeling of repetition, of building something bigger than ourselves without having to think about it and without asking for recognition that is so admirable it pales the work of any man with a masters degree in social work. The most beautiful part being that you probably don't even know the extent of what you are doing.You hold the sun on your backs and the world on your shoulders. You can be proud when you read this, but never let it change you because that is what keeps you so beautiful.