Hate Poem by Julie Sheehan

The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped
     in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.

Julie Sheehan makes me jealous with this poem because of her imaginitive descriptions. Like this example. Not only are these descriptions truly imaginitive, they convey a feeling. They make me feel the hate she is describing. I think that is what the objective of all writers should be: to make the reader feel the emotion of your words. Sheehan captures every aspect of the feeling of hate and forces it into my mind. I am jealous of Julie Sheehan and her Hate Poem.

I'M SO TIRED.

I'm so tired of eating crappy food. I'm tired of saving my money for college. I'm tired of asking for permission; I DON'T NEED IT. I'm tired of waking up to drag myself to a prison of classrooms. I'm tired of being treated like I can't walk away. I'm tired of making mistakes. I'm tired of my breaking body; I'M ONLY 17. I'm tired of missing you. I'm tired of wearing a mask. I'm tired of speaking in a fake voice to customers I don't even know. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of being angry. I'm tired of gossips; of lies; of rumors. I'm tired of feeling so terribly ordinary. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of being graded or judged by people who think they know me; THEY DON'T. I'm tired of being stressed. I'm tired of carrying so many burdens. I'M SO SICK AND TIRED OF BEING SO SICK AND TIRED.

Love is sometimes what you think it is.

Love is falling into a ring of fire. Love is shooting a blow torch at you and then you shoot it back. Love is making a cake and then eating it with you. Love is dancing in the rain to our favorite song.
Love is climbing a waterfall knowing you're next to me. Love is crashing through a jungle just to see your face. Love is tasting a disgusting looking food just because you think its good. Love is when I make you smile. Love is when I embarrass myself so you do the same. Love is singing my heart out just for you. Love is living our own kind of fairytale. Love is a sacrifice that we make for each other. Love is sharing secrets with you. Love is starring in a broadway play side by side. Love is building our rocketship to the moon. Love is facing my greatest fears only because I know you'll catch me if I fall. Love is diving in head first. Love is stealing the stars for our picnic.
Love is me changing for you and you changing for me; for the better. Love is wanting you to be happy no matter what. Love doesn't end, it only grows stronger. Love is you and me.

Common Courtesy

I had an interesting experience this last weekend. Myself along with a few other people (it was a date if you'd really like to know) went to a shabby little place called Nickel City. For those of you who have never experienced the joy of a germ filled, hot and sweaty room stuffed with smelly people, it is an arcade where games cost only a few nickels each. Contrary to their advertisements I might add, but that is besides the point. Another thing you should know about this cute establishment is that the usual crowd of people that regularly attend are what some people might call "white trash." (Of course, I would never use that term--but I did hear it get thrown around a bit while I was there.)

Going in I was prepared for the tidal wave of such people since I have been to Nickel City before, but I was not prepared for the lack of common courtesy from a certain young woman. She was a slightly large woman but I would like to say it would still have bothered any normal person even if she was not large. Anyway. She was playing a game that required her to bend over every few minutes to deposit more nickels. She played this game for quite some time and periodically put more nickels in to continue her game. Every time she bent over to put coins in, her pants that were already too low and also a couple sizes too small for her, would travel a little ways down her butt. Okay, a LOT of ways down her butt. There, I said it.

Her shirt, that was a couple sizes too small as well, would ride up uncovering her sides and back. Can you picture this? If you can, you must understand that this was not a pretty sight. And like I mentioned before, she played this game for a while. It was like blood on the highway--impossible not to look. Now, if she was alone in a dark room with no mirrors, this would be fine behavior. But was she alone in a dark room with no mirrors? No, she was not. She was in a very public place surrounded by many people. I mean seriously. Come on. All I am asking for is a little common courtesy people.