The slicing And burning Don’t hurt

Well not in the moment They feel like a reprieve from everything else

It’s afterwards When you are finally done

laying scratching the scars

they hurt more than the wounds ever did

Healing hurts

I’m done with the pain in the moment

But the foreverness of the feeling will haunt me

I’m getting better I promise

But my scars still itch

Because the healing hurts

One year older mature Still not sure Have a lot of room to grow So no

Still learning to love again Still trying to trust

But loyalty is a must and can only be gained by trust

Love without meaning means nothing

Yet holding on to rage is a damaging game I'm scared of commitment because of the past Because I fear I'll never be good enough And yet I'm scared because I wanted you Yet everyone wants me to grow up

I thought growing up meant forgetting you too

I'm unorthodox
Undisciplined Oblivious

I thought doing the military would fix that but now I'm not so sure

It's still a goal I want to do yet I'm scared of the person I'll become by being filled with rage

Iv been carrying baggage for way too long And daydreaming for even longer

I missed out on a lot of things by overthinking about the military, Becky, and getting a summer job

I missed out on the memories of my sister getting married, my nephew’s second birthday, my sister's bridal shower, and even my birthday
I missed out on being sixteen because I was worrying over something that would happen on its own

I won't waste another year doing that yes I'll be eighteen this time next year yes I'm technically eligible to join the military right now with a parent's consent But I'm putting life off thinking about that

I'm going to enjoy being seventeen and not worrying about the military or even Becky

I hope to rebuild what was lost because the truth is I loved Beckah more than I loved myself and it's time to fix that relationship

I am changing but in a good way one year older Yet lots to learn and I'm willing to learn everything

So that when I do get a job whatever it is I'll be able to do anything with the best of my ability

Because I'm changing into a better person for all of you

I want to be a soldier not to kill other lives but to protect the country and those who live in it Still don’t understand?

I want to be a person who protects the country they call home the country with the red white and blue I don’t kill people because I want to I do it so that my family can live and that the people feel safe I don’t wish to take another person life but if they mess with my home they like a dog defending his owner I will fight to kill I want to be the person that they can feel safe I don’t want to instill fear into the people I protect so even if I wear dog tags to defend this country just don’t make the front of people who will pick up a gun and fight for you for the country but right now I’m nothing more than a patriotic person whose loyal to their country and who want a better world even if that means one day I don’t come back

Soldiers are people who are brave enough to sacrifice even when they are scared

I want to be a hero Carrying a mighty sword, I’d save the day and peasants say “What lady of the courts.”

I want to be a savior Riding with my horse. I’d be the heart, the mind, the soul, I’d grant them all remorse.

I want to change for better. I want strength from my pain. That every sacrifice I make Will never be in vain.

But I am not a hero Carrying a mighty sword My damage is just damage I am broken, that is all.

His face often held a blank expression, making him unreadable, unlike most people who express their emotions through their eyes or smiles. He wasn't a very happy person; he was angry - very angry - and directed his anger towards those around him.

At first, you wouldn't notice, until he began speaking in hushed tones, his words blending together, becoming inaudible.

He might scream, but only if provoked by asking questions like "Are you okay?" or "What did you say?" or a simple "What?"

He especially hated being asked "What?" not just because of his aversion to repetition, but also because that one word carried an intense force. Angry words, on their own, don't make angry people any less angry.

Despite being labeled as rude, selfish, grumpy (he particularly detested this one), impolite, abrupt, or annoying, he was actually a good person. He may have taken some socks, refused to share his belongings, spoken over others to have his way, and was oblivious to obvious distress, but he genuinely cared.

Socks were always returned to their proper place, most of his possessions were eventually shared, and he listened to everyone - he was an excellent listener. Though initially not adept at discerning people's emotions, he would eventually find out and offer them a warm smile.

It may not seem like much. A person cries, and he simply smiles at them? But yes, his smiles were rare and precious. Sometimes people just need a genuine, comforting smile. Sometimes, it's all we need.

One smile from a specific person changed his life. It impacted him so deeply that he resolved to become not just a good person, but a remarkable one. Now, his name isn't associated with an angry man who despised everyone and stole socks, but with a compassionate man who loved helping others.

He passed away in late winter, on a cold day. His funeral was on a day with heavy rain, and though it may sound melancholic, it was a joyous occasion. Thousands attended, smiling at him one last time. I like to imagine that, wherever he was, he returned the smile.

Becoming a new person doesn’t mean changing your appearance and becoming this bad chick every guy falls in love only for her body and only wants to date her for extra fame and the girls are jealous of how beautiful you are and try their best to manipulate your popularity. I never thought of being a new me would have to require change within my inner self. My behavior and actions are influenced, treating others how I would want to be treated. Not for the universe or what most people believe, God, to somehow reward me for my good lifestyle. But just because it’s worth more than depression and living in misery. The first incident started when I was seventeen, I used to hang with, Rita and Micah, the mean girls. Rita was tall, petite body, a short blonde bob, she always wore different shoes but she wore her favorite jacket everyday; a leather black jacket with the initial P on it. It was her favorite because her boyfriend, Peter, bought it for her at Luxury’s Down, the most expensive mall to go to only a few people would buy from that store. And Micah, she was short, brown curly long hair, she always was blowing bubblegum, she hardly ever talk, but when she did, she was always defending Rita for her toxic behavior. We was at the lunch table and the three of us walked in with a dramatic walk and dramatic entrance, everyone had there eyes on us. We sat at our favorite table, which was none, so we stood up until some hot guy would offer us a seat. All you needed to do was wink and blow kisses and the guys would be starving like a dog to offer us a seat. Mason, the hottest boy of all, Micah had a huge crush on him, Rita was in love with her boyfriend, Peter. Meanwhile, I was just living the single life and enjoying the popularity of being popular. However, that “fame” started to suddenly shift when I was diagnosed with depression.

It’s normal. That’s what everyone tells me at least. My eyes blurred by tears, it’s over in an instant. Looking to my bundled joy I think back on life. All my choices not the best but every choice leads me here.

Gone is the little girl screaming within WHO’s heart break and trauma left her unable to become her best self.

Years go by without a hitch and the temporary bandaid starts to peel losing it’s tackiness.

Each memory surfaces slowly bringing with it all the dispare and pain.

She’s ready this time it took her years but she’s gotten the hang of it.

She caresses her inner child whispering thanks for all it’s done and fixing the cracked confidence and love she held.

In helping her inner child her adult life began to change no longer bitter and angry she was free, free to live, free to love, free to be who she always imagined.

Patting down her ruffled mess the child went to bed no longer scared, worried or stressed.

Who knew all it took to be better was facing the things she buried all those years ago.

Ripping off the bandaid she rejoined the world this little bundle would get everything she never could.

This lovely child would get her at her best and never at her tipping point.

A change of mind A change of heart A change of character

It was a summer afternoon, a typical haze in the climate. 1956 to be precise. I sat on the porch of my farmhouse estate gazing out into the green fields of grass a glass of lemonade clenched between my palm. “Peter?” Miriam called, her brunette hair wired tightly into large bouffant curls. “Must you stay here all day?” I nodded quietly, the breeze licking up like flames. “Why is there something the matter?” I shook my head turning it towards the field. “Well Peter you can’t just stay here all day.” “Who says I can’t?” “It’s impractical.” “Well I’m not the only one being impractical, I mean what do you even do at all these outings?” “It’s simple, I talk and make friends something you don’t do.” Angrily I stood up my head turning grey, raising a hand above her cheek I freeze. She runs off crying my hand still mid-air. “I’m sorry- I didn’t-“ rubbing my hand across my forehead I panic. “I go into the farmhouse and go upstairs where she’s packing a small suitcase. “Get away from me.” She says fumbling to get a sock into her suitcase. “Miriam, I don’t know what happened I just got so-“ “Angry, mad, enraged?” I nodded my eyes darting at every piece of clothing lodged into the suitcase. “Please don’t go i’ll make it up to you.” “Will you? Because lately that’s getting a little old.” “I’m sorry.” Defeated I sit on the floor of the doorway, she carries on packing. “I’m a horrible husband.” She nods still packing her suitcase. “I just-“ She pauses, “This is supposed to of happened a long time ago ok?” I nod, a tear starts to trickle down my eye then another then another then another until my face are wet with tears. She picks up her suitcase as I hear the front door close behind her.

A month or so passes and I haven’t seen her since, I keep staring at my wedding ring twiddling it around my finger pondering whether I should take it off or not. The house feels empty without her. The sky less hazy and the breeze less cool. I keep working as a distraction, whether it’s the chickens that need sorting or the fields that need to be tended I just keep on working. It’s the one thing that can be the same, some order to this mess. I keep going to local bars to eat, wallowing my insecurities and problems to the bartender. Hell, I think they’re sick and tired of it. I come home one evening, still drunk, when I hear a knock on a door. “Doors- it’s open.” Miriam’s sister Penny steps inside. “God Peter, are you drunk?” “Kinda- I smile tears running down my face.” “Listen, it’s Miriam- she’s in the hospital.” “What’s wrong with her.” I’m slurring my words. “She’s pregnant, with you’re baby.”

Note: doesn’t quite fit the assignment but idc to be honest… either way a fun piece of writing to write. I hope you liked it.

Keep trying Stop crying No more lying Heart’s dying

Shed a tear No more fears Very good year Be in good cheer

Kindness rules No more fools Use the tools Not a mule

Calming water Running farther Believing better Live unfettered Tessa🦋