Do you think of me?

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Thinking
Processing
Doing
Dreaming
Coughing
Reading
Washing
Believing
Taking a breath
Everyday
A break from routine
Before I jump back into it
Thinking
Processing
Doing
Dreaming
Coughing
Reading
Washing
Beliving
Taking a breath
And wondering
Do you think of me?

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Dreams (Throwback, But Truth)

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Dreams. Some of us have. Some of us do not. Sometimes. All the time. Somewhere and everywhere. There are sometimes built over time with posters in bed rooms, movies running in our minds, and hope in our hearts. As with some movies, these can take unexpected and sometimes unfortunate turns. Because sometimes we get sick. We forfeit the championship game before the try-outs even start. We hang up our soccer shoes and remember things like the nick names we got while we attempted to fulfill them. Bruiser was my nickname and a part of my dream. Soccer was my sport, defense was my position. Then after eighth grade I got sick, and sophomore year called for no more P.E. period. Funny how some dreams bring other ones into light. The dream to create. To be part of something bigger than yourself. How to be humble. My junior year I stepped into this new world and new dreams were pressed on fast forward. Dreams. You never really forget your dreams. They stay with you as you complete your morning jog, your salad, your chores, your romantic dinner, your fight with the cable guy. As much as you try to alienate yourself from them. They call to you. To be social was another dream I never fully held on to. It seemed to always be slipping from my grasp when final it seemed it had never existed. Now on the in-betweens, I’m trying to envision new dreams. Not to replace old ones. To be a smile now. You see funny thing about dreams. They never retire.

I struggle to answer

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Listening to this song

“We don’t talk anymore”

I think of you

And realize the lyrics

Hit too way close to home

So I listen over and over

Searching for why I still think of you

We don’t talk anymore

We don’t laugh anymore

But the song says “like we used to”

But we don’t talk at all

Do I miss it? Yes

Do I miss you?

I struggle with the answer

Dreams once with you are nightmares now

I struggle to answer

Do I miss you?

Are those three words enough? Journey back to high school days…

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when I came upon this question
rather haphazardly
when we spoke
words failed me
the emotions
he evoked
within my spine
ignited my bones
and I realized
it’s more than a crush
I think about you
when I brush my hair
when I hear music
when I adjust my marching uniform
when I cry
i wish you were there
someone who’s shoulder I
could hold onto and cry
you wouldn’t mind
I know you wouldn’t
but how do you tell
someone
that you have feelings
strong ones
possibly love
but those three words
are not enough

so
how do you do it?
how can I?
when words fail me
when we coexist in the same space
I can’t hide my smile
perhaps we will collide
but perhaps
i’ll never know
what he actually thought of me
if anything reminded him of me
or worse
if he ever thought about me at all…

 

Wanderlust?

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My Summertime sadness

Turns to bursting joy

As I awake a quick mistake

And I nearly fall

I laugh, as I am still sleepy

But it’s time to be alive

Be awake

So I make two cups of coffee

One for now and one for soon after

I dream about the gym and the theater

Two different places, a rush the same

Two mediums of relax

In the theater my brain wanders

In the gym my body does so

But both my body and mind are linked

They are in sync

And as I concern myself with what I want to do

I jot things down quickly

I prepare myself for the gym

I look through old photos as I watch the news

My brain is going so fast

So I type this poem

As John Legend echos

“This time we’ll take it slow”

Suddenly, in the dining room

Wanderlust?

What goes through my mind when I write…

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The Method of my “Madness”

There are a few things (men, politics, and death) that are more complex than the psych behind writing. It is sporadic, impulsive, indiscriminately, timeless, impossible, and delightful. Writing is a journey with stepping stones: great leaps or tiny steps, it’s going forward that’s important. The steps I go through during a writing assignment depend on what kind of time limit there is and what type of essay it is. Is it a poem? Is it a twenty page research paper? I always start brainstorming ideas for the main point of the paper no matter if it is big or small. Ideas and inspiration come to me at the most awkward times (the bus, the bathroom, at a movie). I group together these ideas into a topic before the real work begins.

I usually do not consider my audience too much at this time. I work in such a fashion fervently, and although I know it is for a teacher’s eyes only, I write to a universal audience, hoping all my efforts were not in vain. Poetry is the art form I adore, and I generally can captivate a large audience with. I use elements such as rhyming or repetition in my poetry and in my writing. Another way that I mesmerize the audience is when I write to the sound of classical music. When I write it makes me feel like I am on a journey, and I am taking my audience with me.

Speaking of journeys, the method I take is not organized. Its profile fits only the essay to which it was assigned. My support method behind it is not a method so much as it is a vision. After I research or consider ever angle I deceiver and deduct which is not just the strong point but the one I want to bring to attention. Lists are very helpful way for me to find ideas that work and ideas that don’t such as diction. I must often change, flip and rearrange my wording but syntax is something I don’t feel I achieve too often. The last element which I find related to syntax is the proofreading, which I do. Usually I have a sibling check my work as well and in the past multiple teachers have viewed my writing. I am not too pleasant while hearing criticism, but I will take it and try to spin a better story. As for a four hundred work limit, I am not use to word limits. So checking the word count is now like stopping for gas on my writing journey. I cannot go on to write without it.