Spring Fever

I love the spring. I love the rain, and the flowers, and most of all the rain! When the spring comes I especially love, love. Every year I just begin to swoon over any boy in the same room as me. I guess it’s just that everything is so beautiful, and I want a beautiful person to share it with. Spring is so fresh and new, and after getting out of a 7 month long relationship in September I’m ready for someone to come and sweep me off my feet! I’m also indulging in Romeo and Juliet right now which is probably not helping. I don’t expect someone to come ridding in to my English class on a horse reciting Romeo and Juliet (although it would be appreciated). I just want someone who cares about me and wants to spend their time with me, and give me kisses 😉 Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is because no one has done it yet.

A letter to my great grandmother

       This is a thank you note for anything and everything you have ever done for me. Thank you for holding me in your arms when I would be restless. Thank you for making me hot dogs when they were the only thing I’d eat. Thank you for giving me kisses when I’d get hurt. Thank you for making me try “dirty ice cream”. Thank you for holding my hand. Thank you for telling me I’m pretty. Thank you for giving me advice. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for making sure my imagination was always filled with happy thoughts. Thank you for coming to my dance recitals. Thank you for coming to my plays. Thank you for telling me stories about you and when you were young. Thank you for always making me laugh. Thank you for being so sweet to me. Thank you for always being 100% honest with me. Thank you for telling me that I can do anything. Thank you for believing that I can do anything. Thank you for this and so much more. I love you!

love,
Emma

Heros

       I feel like writing. No plan, so, lets wing it! They say to write what you know, so… My two brothers are both older than me. They’re off at college while I’m at home takin’ care of the folks.  Jake and Matt got out of this town as fast as they could, of course I don’t blame them. It pretty much sucks here.

       Although Jake didn’t have that much of a choice in the matter. His girlfriend found out she was pregnant during the second half of his Senior year. Jake knew what he had to do so he went to state school instead of playing football at a university. Now he and Alissa are raising Aiden who will turn 3 this August. He’s a beautiful baby boy with two parents that love him more than life itself. Jake is a double major in Psych and Business, and works nights as a manager at a shipping company . He’s also an aspiring writer working on his first novel, guess it runs in the family. I have to say I couldn’t be more proud of him. 

       Then there’s Matt. This is his first year away from home, far away! Like seven states away! I worry about him a lot. Him down there, alone! Oh my god, I’m my mother… anyways we were never super close until last summer. We’d watch a movie late at night and then sneak out of the house and get ice cream at McDonadls. We’d sing way too loud in the car and go WAY too fast. I hate to admit that I miss him terribly.

       Its really lonely at home by myself. Even if none of us talked to each other, it was still nice to be together. When I was little and there was a thunderstorm I would go into the bedroom that they shared and sleep on the floor. Then Matt would bring me back to my room and count the seconds between thunder, or Jake would “mummy” tuck me into my bed. I would thrash around trying to get out of it, and in the process making myself so tired I’d fall asleep. I don’t know what I’d do without them. They make me see the world around me in such an extraordinary way. Who and where would I be without them.

Night Terrors

Night Terrors

 

    Eve and I are walking through downtown alone. Its about 6 o’clock, already dark, and the wind it hits you like a 30 pound weight. We pass under a bridge. The men sitting underneath it yell cat calls, and other horrible things.

I turn around, “Matt?…”. My brother is sitting on the curb underneath a bridge. “Matt, oh my god!” my chest collapses, like, like a balloon with no air. “Who are you?” “Matt. No Matt!” His eyes, oh his eyes. Bloodshot- lifeless. “Oh my- are you high?”. He began to laugh. “Oh my god are you high?!!”. The other men join in his laughter. I see the white powder under his nose. I fall to my knees. “No, jesus no!”. The tears run hot down my face. “No! NO! Oh god No!!”. I kneel there whaling. Eve just stands, still as a brick wall. I’m struggling to catch a breath. The air is heavy, and it hurts to take it in. “Oh Matt”, the sobbing continues. I can only imagine he got kicked out of school. He came back here from South Carolina. Didn’t tell anyone. “Why matt? WHY!”.

Suddenly, everything is black. I’m in a strange room. Scrambling I get up out of the bed look around. I’m in Eve’s bedroom. She’s right there sleeping. I begin to cry. It was so real. I get back into the bed. I lay there crying. All I can see are his eyes. Bloodshotlifeless. Matt is not a drug addict. Matt is at school. Matt is fine. All night on a constant repeat. I worry about him. I see those eyes. His eyes. I hear about the kids in the news. The temptations. All I can see are those eyes, his eyes. Bloodshot-lifeless.

 

Fear…It’s just four letters.

Fear

 

It’s a funny thing. Maybe it’s there to help make sure we don’t get hurt. Maybe it’s there to keep us away from things that could damage us like a fence, well more like a wall. Sometimes it’s almost like fear is the one thing holding us back from a better life with less pain less hurt and less hatred. Maybe if people weren’t so afraid they wouldn’t hurt each other, no wars, no gangs, no unnecessary deaths. No one would have to do drugs or smoke or drink because they wouldn’t have anything weighing down on them. People wouldn’t hit or hurt or laugh, or cause pain to each other.

I’m afraid of trying my hardest and putting myself out there, because I know someone’s always going to be better or smarter or prettier. Maybe it’s my defense mechanism, because everyone always told me how pretty they thought my friends were. How much they liked them. Nobody liked me.

I’m also afraid because people don’t expect much from me. I mean I wouldn’t. With my brothers and my parents and my friends. My friends. Most of them don’t think anything of me. So now the few that do get drowned out by my head. Saying you’re never good enough, you’re just like them, no one really cares…..

Faded Blue Carpet.

Faded Blue Carpet.

I sit doing the butterfly stretch I learned down the hall as a toddler. This isn’t my house, but I am home. I’m here four to five days a week two hours at a time. I bend my spine forward, like the bow of an archer. Relaxing into the stretch, and focusing on the old faded blue carpet. My nose touches my feet I breathe in deep. I smell the leather on my soft slippers, hot from me rubbing up and down on my arches- to gain maximum flexibility.

I’m the first one here every day, sometimes I’m even here before the teachers. I don’t mind it though. I think about every correction my teacher gave me last class. You don’t want to get the same correction twice, that means you don’t listen, and that shows you don’t care.

I hear pointe shoes tip-tapping on the grey studio floor. The sound is calming to me, almost like rain on a tin roof. The other girls in my class begin to trickle in. I lift up my head and greet them with a smile. We talk about pirouettes, jetes, splits, over-splits, developes. Everyone of us loves it here. We are all home. Home is where family is. They are my family. And this is forever my home. I pick up my pointe shoes, that I raised the money to buy(but I don’t care), and walk into the studio. I stand at the barre and begin to stretch. I love being at home.