his name is bud.

his name is bud.
he has a round rough face.
his fingers shake and his knees are now to weak to hold his weight.
his white hair is combed neatly to the side each day.
his left eye twitches and his glasses catch all his tears.
he is tough and his gaze looks had and unforgiving. but he is just sad and exhausted.
there is a wrinkle by his lip, he says it has been there since the day he met Bessie.
the wrinkles in between and above his eyebrows were left from all the hours spent worrying and caring for his family.
the wrinkles on his hands and up his arms each tell a story of his seemingly endless days and short nights.
he misses Bessie more each day and you know his heart aches more than his bones.
his smile may not be as full as it once was but it is as sincere as ever.
his hugs are weak and when he holds you he let's you hold all the weight.
to many is it only the crusted eye, thin and bruised skin they see. but he is so much more than that,
his name is bud.

I'm really over this whole high school thing.

So that jealousy post...I should probably do it so my grade isn't a C anymore.

It came at the time when I just no longer cared about anything...even the one class I loved the most.

But no one wants to hear my son story.

Also to tell you the truth...I don't get super jealous of poetry. I wish I did. Promise! Cross my heart and hope to die! I really do wish that I when i read poetry that I could feel crazy good vibes or intense emotions. But I just don't. 

I guess I'm jealous of any of you who get that way. 

I'm jealous of you kids who devoted your time to this class. 

I'm jealous of the ones who really knew how to write.

I'm jealous of Nelson's favorites. Nelson is a cool guy, he really knows what's up. 

*no one really wants to read this Dorothy. Stop embarrassing yourself*

 -Dorothy or Casie. You can pick.

his name was tom.

I remember when Wednesdays were for swimming and Saturdays were for cartoons and mowing the lawn and doing my laundry. i remember playing dress ups and making Caleb wear dresses and heals and how he started liking it. i remember how i always forgot my tooth brush when i went to grandmas house and how she always had one for me in her guest bathroom. i remember when i broke my arm and my mom just told me to take a nap. i remember my first cellphone, it was pink and it had preset ringtones and an antenna. i remember telling Brandon St. Clair i liked him and how he didn't like me but he never told me. i remember the first time i skipped school. i was hungry. i remember my first part in a school play and how i never wanted to do that again. i remember how when my grandma Normon calls its only for my mom. i remember the first time i swore. i was crying and it only made me cry harder but the second and third and one hundredth time it didn't bother me as much. i remember hating lotion because i thought it made me slimy. i remember how insidious was stupid but it still scared me and i watched the second one for a boy. i remember the first time i saw my mom cry and it was because her baby boy died 24 years ago. i remember the first and last time i kissed him and how both times i regretted it. i remember how i'll always love him but i wont always be in love with him. I remember her face as it sat still and her sister cried and told me how she remembered me. i remember my first stake dance, getting sweaty and her dad getting polled over. i remember losing the pink and white tank top and i was sad because my mom would never buy me a tank top again. i remember how we saved our lemonade in our closets and it got hot but we still drank it. i remember how jaw breakers were for smashing because they really taste like chalk and i remember memorizing the lyrics to girls night out by Miley Cyrus. i remember the day she was born and chewing on bubble gum cigars in the waiting room. i remember the first time a resident i cared
about died. i remember my first bloody nose and how my sister stayed up with me until it stopped. i remember December and how you were cool and she still liked me and no one was moving and senior year was only half over. i remember how things change and how i use to care and now i just don't.

CHANGING ATTITUDES

forget the top two. I don't like them. 

*FIX WHAT IS BROKEN

WE SPEND OUR WHOLE LIVES PACING 

FAILING* 

*IF YOU LIKE YOU

KEEP IT*

I'm Tired. I'm Disappointed.

my fingers are numb and my head is killing. days are becoming routine and nights seem shorter and days feel never ending. sleeping has to be scheduled like work and hanging out with friends has to be planned. I tell myself I have to study and it's only one more month but before I know it, its the next morning in first period and i'm telling my teacher another lame excuse as to why I didn't do the assignment. Homework is just busy work and assignments don't seem real. my grades are anywhere from a B- to two F's, a C-, D+ and NC.  I'm exhausted and my parents only talk to me to get me out of bed and remind me that graduating is a  necessity *like I don't already know that*. I'm tired. but I am also really disappointed in myself. it feels like I wasted my senior year on Netflix, and wanting to stay home or on petty fights, stupid boys and procrastination. 

I thought I was going to be one of the class favorites and I was going to love writing on my blog and I would devote all my time to reading posts and putting my pen to paper and just letting my feeling flow out. I thought that because my mom, English teacher and best friends loved what I wrote that I was going to be a natural in this class. but I let my procrastination, my teen angst, lazy and disinterest in all things high school get in the way and now I hate myself and i'm trying but it seems like i'm too far behind to catch up.

I told myself this post had to be good. it had to impress and it had to be real and it needed to be funny and it had to have killer poetic lines in it and then I just started complaining and feeling bad for myself and its getting long and it doesn't sound good. I'm rambling. I'm tired. I'm disappointed.