They were over and he knew it. They were over and she didn't. The little things- the transitional touches when turning a corner, the frequency of smiles, the speed of walking, all were altered. He picked up on mammorisms and the change in habitual tendencies of their relationship. It was the the kinds of things that your best friend wouldn't understand and would not pick up on. If you were to describe them, your friend would say you were overreacting and being paranoid, but he felt it so deeply that being around her at all was a challenge in itself. Standing next to her was a tease. Any where away from her was a place of halfhearted denial. He knew what was true and consciencely chose to live a lie. In this way, he convinced his mind that he was being true to himself. Being away was a sovereign from the misery of watching their relationship crumble, without having to be there to watch it happen.

He had always been close with Ashley from physics class. When they were younger, he had always looked up to her. Although they were the same age, she seemed mature, and had only dated guys in grades above her. This, as it usually goes, had made him want her more since she appeared to be so untouchable. Because she was so far out of his league at the time, he didn't notice when she began to become more in his range of possible girls to date. As time went on, and the older boys had gone away to college, she made the decision to lower her standards. He, at this point, was already with Jessica, so Ashley never really came to mind. In a parallel universe, a shift of earth's poles, or maybe simple karma, the situation had been reversed. Mike was the one who was off limits, while Ashley was alone and considered her new options.

Jessica was surprised when Mike turned down her offer to get frozen yogurt after school. Even though the weather was starting to cool, it was still part of the pattern the two of them had created during the routine school week. She walked home like usual, thinking while she observed the neighborhood scenery that often went ignored. Life had always been easy; there had never before been a reason to rate and rationalize how events in her life were going. She had always driven through her life as if she were running on a track. There was never a reason to look back or time to think when you were supposed to move forward. However, for a reason she couldn't break down into worded thoughts, Jessica felt as if all her organs had settled in the bottom of her stomach and were colliding into eachother. With this uneasiness came a heightened sense of awareness, and thoughts became detailed with more edge to them, instead of the rounded, unfocused mindset she usually posessed. This wasn't like being upset over a bad test grade, or because of a scraped knee. This was a hopeless, worthless feeling, as if the sun beating down her was there just to burn her scalp, and the trees next to the sidewalk were there to shield any blue in the sky. It was the first time that Jessica had ever felt rejected.

The end of quarter one meant that desks were to be rearranged. Mike sat with his books in hand on the radiator, abandoning his desk as Mr. Henry retrieved the new seating chart. He didn't really care where his new seat was. Physics required concentration, and at the same time was boring and the blandest class he attended during the day. Sitting next to a good friend wouldn't alter the circumstances of the class, as there was no time to talk and nothing to talk about. The sole time the students could talk was on lab days, to a lab partner which was assigned by who you sat besides. Mr. Henry called out names as he pointed to seats row by row. It was as if each student was being told which cell they were to be held captive in every fourth and fifth period, five days a week. Mike slammed his books down on his desk as if his arms were took weak to withstand gravity. He kicked his feet and slouched down into his seat, his head slightly falling back. Next to him, Ashley was getting accustom to her new desk, placing her books inside of it in an organized fashion and sitting with her legs crossed and hair flipped back. She angled her body so that her legs were in the middle of the row, and her body was facing Mike. She began a friendly conversation, making jokes and throwing her head back in exaggerated laughs. Mike smiled at her jokes and witty comments as they waited for everyone to finally be seated. As Mr. Henry began notes, Ashley rolled her eyes and shifted her body towards the black board. Mike held his gaze as her hair was flipped back into place, then opened his notebook and started to write.

Jessica stared at her phone waiting for it to vibrate, or at least show some sign of life. Instead, it lay still on her desk. She opened it up hoping to see a text, but instead she was met with her home screen. Jessica was beginning to despise the screen she saw when she opened her phone, as recently it was met with disappointment. She had been changing the background picture every week, then every day, then numerous times a day as she took out her frustration on the photo that was meant to provide simple decoration for an otherwise square, bland, piece of metal. Mike had stopped speaking to her the way he used to. At first, it was unapparent and didn't hold much importantcy, considering their texting conversations were usually limited to a six word maximum. But it had begun to become blatantly obvious that Mike had been holding out on her. Even at night, Jessica found herself wondering if Mike had went to sleep, as he no longer texted her to say goodnight. Part of the modern phenomenum of technology is the way texts can be deciphered in frequency, letters, and symbols as good or bad. Even to an amateur texter, the messagers coming from Mike were pathetic. Anticipation bubbled up into Jessica's throat. She had made the executive decision to do the inconceivable. With a rush of impulse, as if posessed by a champion cliff diver, she texted Mike first. As the anxiety worked as adrenaline in her vains, Jessica stared at dead black screen, only to be met with her reflection. Five minutes, then twenty minutes went by, and still no reply. Mike usually kept his phone on vibrate, so he always felt it if he received a text. Jessica shrank with the realization that Mike was ignoring her, and turned her attention back to the essay she was supposed to be writing. Concentration was impossible, as every idea for her essay turned into Mike's face, or transitioned into thoughts about Mike. Forcing her voice to sound as chirpy and upbeat as possible, she raised her hand to go to the bathroom. The halls were shielded by a windshield of water as she ran into an open stall and silently sucummbed to the rejection.

After class, Mike walked with Ashley down the senior hallway, passing the usual abundance of students plastered against the locker walls. If this hadn't been school, the situation would most likely be deemed as unfair and poor conditioned, but this was highschool. Cramped spaces, sticky desks, and a room temperature that was never exactly room temperature, but always a few degrees too cold or too hot, was what the highschoolers had grown accustom to. Time had a mind of its own. It chose when to drag on for endless amounts of hours during labs and lessons, and also decided when to fly by (usually during a big test or when attempting to copy homework). School had a beat to it, with classes, lunch periods, clubs, sports, all blending into a pattern in one's mind. Nothing particularly stood out, it was all part of the routine. That's why Mike found it odd when he stopped by Jessica's locker and she wasn't there. He waited for a few moments, scanned the hallway both ways as if he were crossing a street, and then continued talking to Ashley on his way to class.

Jessica , as usual, had her mind in the clouds. The light thoughts that fluttered in her mind usually were not a problem, as she was an optimistic person who mostly thought of positive aspects of life. However, as gloom took over her being and mixed with these fluttering thoughts, she became somewhat lost. This is what attributed to her forgetting an important assignment that had been due that day and having to talk to her teacher after class to discuss her forgetfulness. After a rushed, strained conversation, as Jessica had another class to get to, she dashed into the hallway, nearly colliding with traffic. After regaining composure, she speedily walked to her locker, her legs straight like a soldier in her attempt to maximize the use of muscle in her legs. Her peripheal vision wasn't exactly at its optimum, as Jessica brushed past a mixture of different hair colors and skin tones, until the corners of her eyes revealed only a light, sandy brown color. She nearly missed Mike in her mission to arrive on time to class. She noticed him walking slowly, extremely engrossed in a conversation with some girl. As they past eachother, Jessica turned around and watched his head disappear into a sea of brunettes and blondes. It seemed odd to her, that she had noticed him, even while nearly sprinting to class, and he, walking barely two miles per hour, had looked past her.

Battle

"You don't make any sense"
"You know what doesn't make any sense? The fact that you say I don't make any sense when I clearly do make perfect sense! Does that make sense to you?"
"That didn't make any sense"
"You dont make sense"
"Really? So just because you sound like a babbling retard, you don't comprehend my whole existence? Does that make any sense?"
"Wow you're a horrible person, I have a cousin who's retarded"
"Sorry. But that wasn't my point. Why are you trying so hard to change the subject? It's because you know I'm right isn't it?"
"No, it's because I have a retarded cousin and find that highly offensive."
"No you dont. You've used the word "retarded" before"
"Never"
"Yeah you have"
"Nope"
"Yup"
"Nuh-uh"
"SHUT UP YOU RETARD YES YOU HAVE"
"Offensive"
"Okay...All I want to know, is why you had to lie about where you were the other night, and why you think you can get away with everything, and why you don't care about how I feel, and why you're such a ret-idiot all the time, and why you ever started talking to me, and why-"
"I'm not an idiot"
"You clearly are. Can you answer my question?
"You asked an estimated fifteen questions. How am I supposed to know which one I'm expected to answer?"
"ANY OF THEM?!"
"Well, since I'm such an idiot, I can't really think of any answers right now."

etc.

Project Proposal:

I'm going to continue with my pieces from last year that I did as my final project. I'm just going to pick up where I left off.

Twin Day
Sam and his twin sister had always experienced the usual sychronization many pairs of twins experience. If Sam scraped his knee, his sister would cry. If Sam's parents yelled at him, his sister would feel personally offended and fight in his defense. If Sam had a broken heart, his sister didn't feel quite right, and tended to mope around the house eating chocolate and comforting icecream. So when Sam's twin was involved in a hit and run in which she was mauled by a truck, Sam didn't feel anything. Instead, he felt brain dead.
Sam's parents went through the standard grieving process. Denial, acceptance, and moving on to the best of their ability. Sam did, too. However, what people didn't understand was the lack of activity going on in his brain was barely connected to his dead twin. His thoughts dedicated themselves to her at times during the day. When passing her untouched bedroom, or seeing her empty desk in the chemistry class they both happened to be in. It wasn't that he was consumed of thoughts of her, or that he felt numb from the pain of her death. Instead, it was a deadly feeling. His thoughts showed an endless black pit. Weeks of this forced him to come to the conclusion that his sister had gone to some type of hell.

Hannah opened her eyes to gusty winds and sand blowing into her eyes. The world whizzed by her as she was swept into a tunnel of...cars, trees, and buildings. It was only after she picked her head up and turned around that she realized she was on a highway. With a shriek, she fell off of the windshield of a car, rolling onto the street. To her right, another body flew into the air and landed besides her. Realizing she did not have a scratch, Hannah sprinted, tripping over her feet, to the person laying on the pavement. Hannah watched as a pool of blood had begun to collect in a sphere around the matted hair of a girl.
"Are you okay?!"
The girl failed to respond. Panicking, Hannah reached for the cellphone she kept in her right ugg boot. Coincidently, it had begun to ring just as she took it out to dial 911. It was her mom's number.
"Hello mom? There's been an accident. I'm okay please call 911 I dont know what to do I'm all alone here and some girl is on the floor bleeding and not answering me and I'm freaking out I don't even know where the driver of the car went..."
"Hannah?"
"Mom, did you hear anything I just said?"
"Hannah, I think we have a bad connection. I just wanted to check where you are. It's getting late and I can't hear anything you're saying. So if you hear me, just text me when you're coming home please."
"Mom? I'm here! Mom..."
The line went dead. Hannah quickly dialed 911. When the operator answered, she too could not hear Hannah's voice on the other end of the line. Panicked, Hannah turned her attention to the girl sprawled out onto the floor. She felt her cold skin, and noticed her lips had turned a deep purple. Reluctantly, Hannah turned the girl to her side, as her face was smashed into the pavement. She was met with blood-crusted eyelashes and a nose so badly mangled that white bone showed through the skin. However, this could not prevent Hannah from realizing the obvious. This girl had her face.

Pajama Day

I dont know anyone who actually wears pajamas. In fact, they may be as big of a ripoff as expensive valentines day chocolate. There really is no point to it. I can't think of one reason why you would need special clothes to go to sleep in. I'd much rather wear a snuggie to sleep sleep or one of my dads big tshirts. The only times pajamas come in handy are 1) Sleepovers where a lot of pictures are being taken and 2) Pajama day. It's all for commercial purposes.
I also don't know why pajamas can't be worn in the middle of the day, or why they're considered cute or anything of that sort. They're literally baggy pieces of material. I'd much rather go to lacrosse practice in baggy pjs than tight under armour. Then again, this is my opinion. I remember being around five years old when I received my first night gown. Naturally, my grandma bought it for me from a Disney Store to match her blue linen tablecloth night gown that must have been purchased from a curtain store. I thought I was Sleeping Beauty whenever I fell asleep, until the day I realized I wasn't and that my old nightgown with the grape juice stain down the front didn't suit my needs any longer. I then graduated to a two piece, thermal pajama set that looked more like long underwear than anything else. This lasted until my first sleepover, when every other girl had tiedye sweatpant pajamas with words on the back such as "SOCCER" or "CHEER!", when half of them didn't play soccer or were a member of a cheerleading team. These pajamas cost more than regular clothing, and I had to ask every member in my family to buy them for me before realizing the softest person of them all is my grandpa, who would do anything as long as I looked at him a certain way. After this fad of pajamas went out of style, I had had enough. This is why, to this this day, I wear a baggy tshirt to bed or a sweatshirt. Nothing more, nothing less.

IN RESPONSE TO:
"Breakeven" by The Script


You say I left with my suitcase
As if it weren't already open,
On the bed,
With nothing to pack but toxic memories.
What you mean to say,
Is that I have all the baggage


The truth is, hearts don't breakeven
Overnight you become a scale of weight
Splintering a heart with the precision of a glass cutter
To me it felt more like shattering
You are incapable of weighing the shards
When they disintegrate to dust

If I was the finest part of you,
Then what are you in truth?
Siamese twins share a heart,
Conjoined in a bond without the option
Of dispatch
The thump of the heart they share is in synch...

Whereas I,
Have a heart that beats to the innocence
Of a lullaby
While you,
pound to the guilt
Of heavy, heavy, metal

If you were barely breathing,
You wouldn't sing of false accusations
To bring forth your guilt in me
If we shared a heart,
I would offer the fragments for weighing
But we don't

Your eyes resemble a kaleidoscope
But I suffer from being color blind
It’s unfathomable how you could cope

The ending was a rapid, rising slope
Leveling out, and suddenly declined
Your eyes resemble a kaleidoscope

You ascend it like a splintering rope
Limp hands are raw and bloody from the grind
To begin your descent to losing hope

Your eyes resemble a kaleidoscope
But my thoughts are not evenly aligned,
At the moment, I'm just an isotope

I hope that you know, this isn't me, nope,
The roots of my thoughts became intertwined
When windows clear, roots will elope, I hope

It’s unfathomable how you could cope
I promise you should never feel confined
Selfishness is not pure, unlike the pope,
A black hand shielding my kaleidoscope