A collage of miscommunication.
An assemblage of diverse elements: a collage of conflicting memories. Lack of clear or adequate communication.
Nothing's heard for miles but the sound of what I hoped to be your breath. Dissappointment.
Exam weeks. Yes, weeks, as in two. Two weeks of tests. Unlike most of you I have tests almost everyday this and next week. I am glad school is winding to a close. Next year should be a good year. I am especially looking forward to AP Literature, and Communications Systems, a class who's sole purpose is to give Keaton and I time to work on our portfolios during the school day. Thanks Mr. Mulvey.
Every good thing said is utterly and absolutely meaningless to me.
CUT - It’s a dark night. Hot and humid. There is a laundry mat. Its windows are very big and cover the entire storefront, so you can see everything inside.
CUT - Inside the laundry mat, a boy stands barefoot staring into the dryers that are drying his blankets.
CUT - Looking down at the boys feet. They are pretty dirty looking. It seems that he has been walking around barefoot for the whole day.
CUT - The boy is solemnly sitting inside the laundry mat on a bench next to the windows. He looks over and spots a dragonfly running into the window.
CUT - He puts his finger down next to where the dragonfly landed, and it slowly climbs onto his index finger. He holds up his hand. ZOOM on the hand. Neither the finger or the dragonfly move. Then, the dragonfly bends its abdomen, a meaningless movement, but one that is misinterpreted by the boy. He violently shakes his finger and the dragonfly flies away. They will never meet again.
It's raining today. I don't have anything to do. I snuck into my house today. No one is home right now, and if they were, I wouldn't be... I don't mind it though. I don't need parents. My mom has already raised me the best she can. Now, whoever I become will just come down to my experiences and my choices.
I have a few confessions to make, but I can not possibly make them. If that is to be my downfall then I will look back on this later and hate myself. That would be such a pitiful way to go down.
I'm really not depressed, or even very sad. Everytime I write into this journal I think of it as a way to pour anything out of my mind that I'd rather not have there, or would rather not have there for the time being.
Drip Pour
Love letters pour from your eyes
Trying to write what you cant say
fold them up and toss them out
Too weak to speak truth to me
If you took me now
I wouldn’t fight you off
If you took me right now
I swear I’d go
Ransom notes drip from your mouth
The letters turning to watercolor
‘I wish I could tell you the truth’
As the ink runs down the paper
If you stole me now
I would welcome the crime
If you stole me right now
I swear I’d love you.
Nothing's heard for miles but the sound of what I hoped to be your breath. Dissappointment.
Exam weeks. Yes, weeks, as in two. Two weeks of tests. Unlike most of you I have tests almost everyday this and next week. I am glad school is winding to a close. Next year should be a good year. I am especially looking forward to AP Literature, and Communications Systems, a class who's sole purpose is to give Keaton and I time to work on our portfolios during the school day. Thanks Mr. Mulvey.
Every good thing said is utterly and absolutely meaningless to me.
CUT - It’s a dark night. Hot and humid. There is a laundry mat. Its windows are very big and cover the entire storefront, so you can see everything inside.
CUT - Inside the laundry mat, a boy stands barefoot staring into the dryers that are drying his blankets.
CUT - Looking down at the boys feet. They are pretty dirty looking. It seems that he has been walking around barefoot for the whole day.
CUT - The boy is solemnly sitting inside the laundry mat on a bench next to the windows. He looks over and spots a dragonfly running into the window.
CUT - He puts his finger down next to where the dragonfly landed, and it slowly climbs onto his index finger. He holds up his hand. ZOOM on the hand. Neither the finger or the dragonfly move. Then, the dragonfly bends its abdomen, a meaningless movement, but one that is misinterpreted by the boy. He violently shakes his finger and the dragonfly flies away. They will never meet again.
It's raining today. I don't have anything to do. I snuck into my house today. No one is home right now, and if they were, I wouldn't be... I don't mind it though. I don't need parents. My mom has already raised me the best she can. Now, whoever I become will just come down to my experiences and my choices.
I have a few confessions to make, but I can not possibly make them. If that is to be my downfall then I will look back on this later and hate myself. That would be such a pitiful way to go down.
I'm really not depressed, or even very sad. Everytime I write into this journal I think of it as a way to pour anything out of my mind that I'd rather not have there, or would rather not have there for the time being.
Drip Pour
Love letters pour from your eyes
Trying to write what you cant say
fold them up and toss them out
Too weak to speak truth to me
If you took me now
I wouldn’t fight you off
If you took me right now
I swear I’d go
Ransom notes drip from your mouth
The letters turning to watercolor
‘I wish I could tell you the truth’
As the ink runs down the paper
If you stole me now
I would welcome the crime
If you stole me right now
I swear I’d love you.