I run through the rain as tears drizzle down my red cheeks.  The rain mingles with my tears and I cant see anything anymore, I dont care, I dont even know where I am running to.

Or why I am running for that matter.

She yelled... I yelled back.  We both said things we meant and things just because we knew they would draw even a little drop of redish colored hope from the others veins...

I am filled with confusion, guilt, despair, sadness and heartbreak.  I was under the impression that friendship was supposed to be fun and easy

Its pathetic really, whats the reason? I dont even think the birds that heard the arguing, and took to the skies, know what the fight was about.

I need time, maybe after the leaves change color, or maybe after they f          
                                                                                                           a
                                                                                                           l l
Then we can talk.  Time can make or break anything.  I need time to see if the small fisure you created will crack all the way down my heart or if it can somehow mend.

I think I have had enough time... ironic how the person that hurt you so bad is the only one that can pick up the pieces of you and dump all that redish hope back into you, and pat you on the back
and your okay because try as you might,
                                             neither of you ever really stopped caring.

Key:
Plot                          
Character
Setting                                                     
Theme
Conflict

Lost In Paris

FOUR days after I arrived in Paris, I bought an umbrella. It had been raining on and off the entire time, and during my daily walks I’d been carrying a lightweight waterproof shell — bright green — which at the first sign of precipitation I’d unroll from its bundle and zip up, often removing it just minutes later, when the skies temporarily cleared. This was silly, I kept telling myself. There had to be a better way.

Still, I never set out specifically to buy the umbrella. It was only when, one Monday morning, I had decided to stroll the streets of St.-Germain-des-Prés, the tony Left Bank neighborhood, that the urge struck me. It happened, appropriately enough, in front of an umbrella store on the Boulevard St.-Germain.

This was no mere umbrella store. This was Alexandra Sojfer, and its windows were dazzling displays of parasols, frilly and bright and elaborate and not exactly my style — but umbrellas nonetheless. Inside, I asked about the wares, and the shopkeeper, a refreshingly friendly blond woman, who I later realized was Ms. Sojfer herself, explained that the company had been in the umbrella business since 1834 and that yes, they did carry more masculine, utilitarian rain gear. She showed me two models, a long one and a short one, both with fine carved-wood handles.

“But you know,” I said, “I come from New York, where the wind is strong and the streets are littered with the skeletons of dead umbrellas.”

Not to worry, she said. If any of the metal struts were damaged, I could simply return it to the shop to be fixed.

“O.K.,” I said, hefting a short, gray one, “I’ll take it.”

A version of this article appeared in print on October 9, 2011, on page TR1 of the New York edition with the headline: Lost in Paris




In a shell... Frilly and bright, that is what they saw me as.
everyday I become a little more waterproof, I keep telling myself
it is O.K.
If I bundle up whats inside I can find a temporary fix to the damage
I am strong enough to clear the skeletons away at least temporarily

but the wind is too strong, I am damaged everything has become gray, I cant put on my elaborate bright green frilly show anymore


I need an umbrella


someone to worry about me
someone who will see how silly this is and make it better
someone who will explain why I feel dead
someone who will help me feel un-dead 
someone to remove the skeletons


so I will stroll the streets and look into every umbrella shop until I find my umbrella
   maybe my umbrella will be short,
                                        maybe it will have a fine carved- wood handle, 
                    maybe it will be masculine or maybe it will be bright green and frilly

As long as its waterproof enough for the both of us

As long as it stops the rain 

                                                                I'll take It

thoughts of a sparrow

I thought I knew why...
I thought I knew why the trees change colors in the fall
I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my time

I thought I knew how much time I had
I thought I knew who was on my side
I thought I knew why it rained

I thought I knew what color the stars are
I thought I knew how many light-years away and how impossible to reach they are

I thought I knew if you play with fire you will get burned
I thought I knew that when I turned out the lights the monsters lurking wouldn't be real
I thought I knew my own opinion

I thought I knew who I could trust
I thought I knew that the world would keep turning and everything would keep working, just like clockwork...

But it turns out, everything is a bit more complicated then that.

Nightlight

nightlight

age four,  you have your nightlight, when the crickets sing the nightlight is turned on

age five, you still have tubs the teddy bear, and daddy is still scaring the monsters out of the closet

age six, you have a new trendy nightlight, and a new trendy bike with no training wheels

age seven, you are trying to be brave and turn off your nightlight but you slip out of your covers after mom kisses you goodnight and flip the switch, to chase away the lingering shadows leftover from childhood

age eight, you think your BIG but your still small with alot of growing to do, you have friends and dont think you need supervision but you still slip under the covers with your parents after a particularly vivid nighmare

age nine, you are making new friends because you grew out of the old ones, just like you grew out of your favorite shoes, just like you're growing out of that ugly nightlight, and your mom's kisses goodnight

age ten, you are through with all the 'adults' patting your cheek, done with them telling you how big you were last time they came to visit, done with themed parties and little kid games

age eleven, you have packed up your nightlight in a box in the back of your closet with tubs the teddy and all your childhood momentos that your simply to Big for now

age twelve, you have your first crush you think you're big enough to handle love, you have your first heartbreak because he likes the prettier girl, you start to lose your innocence and conform to what they tell you, you are

age thirteen, you have an all new group of friends, you go to the movies, you redecorate your room with more teenageresque things

age fourteen, you have a 'style' now or what you thought was style, you are finding out who you are, building yourself back up after those crushing years of adolescence

age fifteen, you are trying to blend with the crowd, you like that kid in english class and hope he notices you, you have good friends now, you tell secrets to half knowing they are not secrets after you leave that room

age sixteen, you act crazy because why not, everything revolves around you, you dont need mom and dad anymore, they are just the people that keep a roof over your head

age seventeen, you have your first Real heartbreak, you lose your first Real friend, have your first Real experience with the cruel unfairness of life     you pull out the dusty box
               take out tubs the teddy, reread the musty childhood stories, and plug in your nightlight just to chase the new and Real shadows out from the crannies of your life.
your mom kisses you goodnight, you finally realize what she knew all along,                                                                        you never really grew up.

RoCk OuT or iN Whatever works for YoU

Rock out they said...
                                So i did.

I became a robot and all I could do was rock out, all the time.

Rock out like its just what you do, Rock out like its the alternative to breathing so you will die if you don't
Rock out like you have in your hands a disposable camera and your with all the people you love and its your job to capture the moment with the
                                                very          last                            pi  ct  ur e
Rock out like you have spare time and someone to waste it with,  Rock out like you just got your heart broken and if you stop moving then the pain will set in.
Rock out like it is RaInIng outside and there is someone taking your hand and running through it with you.
Rock out like the doctor just told you "You are going to DIE"  but you just found out that you have one more week to....LIVE!....
Rock out like your best friend isn't mad at you and it doesn't affect you,  Rock out like if you keep dancing they will always be your friEND.

Rock out like your completely sane and its everyone else that is Insane

Rock out like you just met The One, Rock out like you are someone else's One.
Rock out like its freezing outside but you don't care because your past feeling and you know that there is coco and a fire waiting for you just inside.
Rock out like your life is your own, because it is, and you just realized it and now you can do whatever you want!                                                                                      

Rock out like you don't know how much time you have left, because this could be your last chance to                                                                  R O C K O U T