The Storm

I am thunder. I am the storm. The blowing, unbeatable wind. You can swing at me but I will not fall. I will rage and I will go on. I will be strong. You cannot beat me. Long after you have fallen I will be moving on. Continue being strong. You can't touch me. You can make me cry, you can make me stumble, but in the end it is me who will survive. I will stay strong and stay alive and thrive. And I will laugh at those who tried. To hurt me and did not succeed.

That Girl

I am the young girl standing at the corner. Crying and afraid. Not knowing where to go or who to turn to. Knowing she is alone. I am the girl discovering the world. Wandering farther and farther every time. I am the girl growing in confidence. I am the girl, crying and afraid. Abandoned once again. Taken to a place, then abandoned adn betrayed. I am the girl who stopped her tears and put up walls. I am the girl who finally felt safe for the first time in her life. I am the girl who finally felt care for and accepted, the way she never felt before. I am the girl who was taken away from that place she was accepted and understood. The girl who then realized exactly how much she did not belong at home. The girl who was depressed and then suffered greadly for many weeks. The girl who then came back to school and was welcomed, but still felt unaccepted, misunderstood, and undeserving. The girl who lost so much, and now clings desperately to what she has. I am that girl.

Unquenchable Thirst

-The pain, the darkness.
It swallows me.
My only sight is him.
But even that falters, fades, flickers out.
And the emptiness comes again.
-The marks upon my arms
The people stop and stare.
I say it was a cat.
But truly it is not.
It is the marks upon my soul.
-I am a starving girl
an unfilled cupalways left thirsting, hungering for more
of the love I do not get.
-I am a starving girl thirsting for more
I see the tempting cup
teasing, taunting, dangling what I so desperately need but cannot have.
I get a taste. I thirst for more. But it is gone. It disappeared.

Turmoil

I am dead. I am alive. Everything around me. Crying out inside. Calling out for life. Playing with this knife. Because it’s the only one that understands me. The one that wants to destroy me, too. The only one that will…besides you. You tear me you hurt me and make me scream. Calling out for life. But a life that will not come. Because of what I have become. Screaming running crashing down inside me I die and no one knows. All of these blows. Some from you some from others but all within the world. I hate it, it hurts me and I only wanna die. But inside I am dying. I shut out the world and the pain inside. I become numb and the fumes make me dumb. All of this hurt inside me it twists and makes scream. But only inside because on the surface I’m calm, collected, sure of myself and the world. Calculating and cool. Inside I don’t understand. Wish you do but you don’t and you won’t. All those who love me and I love are gone they leave me. All alone inside. The world whirling around me and I fall to the floor. Running out the door. But without direction. I don’t know where I go. What I want to be. All I know is that the definition of turmoil is me.

Story I Wrote For English....True Story. About Me

There is blackness; all around. Echoing silence is filling up the weary room. Like a heartbeat, there is a tensing up of the room at regular intervals; coming from the girl rocking herself on the bed. You wouldn’t notice her at first because she melds with the shuddering mood of the room, enveloped in darkness as she is. Shuddering come with the pains and memories of her past. Whimpering “no” over and over again as her memories continue to assault her. One by one; blow by blow. Observing her you can see her shudder as each memory hits.She’s curled up in a ball and clutches herself tighter as an early memory hits; as if she’s trying to hold on to some last piece of her sanity. In her head, she’s about four again. Maybe five; this little girl is getting hit for the first time. She’s standing outside her mother’s doorway, fighting with her. It’s actually a slightly amusing sight; very small child arguing with and adult two times her size and seven times her age. It makes you want to laugh a little but that desire soon dies when you see the mother’s face transform into the expression of a terrifying monster just before she hits her four year old daughter.She cuts off the memory but another one overtakes her. She is reliving a time when she was six. It is a repeat of the even when she was four except for a few details. Amazingly, again she goes into shock. Even after two years of this continuing to happen, when her mother hits her, she still loses the ability to breathe or move; standing paralyzed, looking at the scary monster that was once her mommy. She stands there with her face stinging while monster mommy slams the door in her face. The last thing little Kaitlyn sees before staring at the blankness of the door was her mother’s smug, self-satisfied face. The little girl finally regains the function of her lungs and begins to hyperventilate, sobs choking off every desperate breath she takes. She’s breathing so fast yet she has no air. Breathing so fast with her sobs of betrayal, desperately, she’s trying to grasp at nothing. She forces herself to stop. And she goes into her room. And she climbs the ladder to her bed on the top bunk. She curls up into a little shaking ball in the corner and wonders what she has done to be so hated by her mother and father. She wonders why she deserves this red mark now taking up temporary residence on her tiny face, leaving a permanent mark upon her soul. And then that six year old child resolves never to cry again, never again will she give those creatures the satisfaction of knowing they hurt her so deep. Never again will she allow someone to control her. She straightens up, stops shaking, and becomes strong. She will not let those creatures see they hurt her. She will not cry for a mother who is gloating in her lair behind closed doors, not giving a moment’s worry to this loving child she had broken. Not realizing that at that moment, her six year old was becoming an adult.The girl’s memories end for a moment and she realizes she is whimpering. All those memories and emotions she keeps in the safe of her dark soul. Yet there are times she cannot prevent the barrage of pain from tearing her down, filling up her aching soul.She remembers a time only a few months ago. She goes back in her memory and again is that fourteen year old girl. The walls are ringing with the sounds of her pain and his cruelty; shuddering with her wishes for it to be over. She won’t give up. She refuses to cry. She won’t give in to this creature who wants to hurt her. She blocks it out and thinks of other things because it’s too much. She can’t take this constant barrage of his hateful verbal darts. She makes her mind blank and waits for it to be over. Eventually she tunes back in to him stoning her with his resentment. She shoots back “If you hate me so much, why don’t I just kill myself?” She knows there will be consequences but she’s hurting and doesn’t care at the moment. He’s already cranky from work and drinking so she might as well actually do something to be punished for. And she means it. She is suicidal. She is alone in a vast world of emptiness. She yells but no one is listening. She bleeds but no one sees. She’s dead inside but no one knows. But this is what he wanted. This is what he needed. He grabs her suicidal cry like a lifeline and disappears. She goes into her room and closes the door and turns off the light and watches the blinky light on her stereo; listening to the fuzz on the station. She’s sitting there; vaguely aware of him fuming around the house and talking on the phone and ranting about her, mostly just withdrawn into her own blank mind. Her mind is her private world no one can enter. It is her solace and safe place where she can think her own thoughts privately. It is her sanctuary. Her mind is blank like the fuzz on the radio. Distantly thinking of knives and her wrists and how they could come together and make such an amazing relief to her battered soul. She’s empty and alone like an empty beehive with an abusive boyfriend and hateful family. This young girl is meant for something good but only given pain. She’s a unique puzzle piece without a place anywhere.Suddenly the door is open and the light is bright and she’s blinking, trying to adjust her eyes, wondering what Mr. TwoYearOldTemperTantrum wants now. She is told to get a jacket and get in the car, leave her purse. She’ll have no need for it. She’s told they are going for a drive. Assuming it’s just the normal scare tactic, she gets dressed; full of apprehension anyway. She assumes she will be taken to sit outside of juvvi and be told she better not step out of line or she could call that building that resembled an angry monster in the night her new home. Then she can go home and go to bed and then on to school the next day; pretending she’s okay while eating nothing and going to the bathroom soon after the consumption of any object to hurl it out of her body; the way she wishes she can hurl the ugliness, hatred, and pain out of her soul and life forever.She’s paying attention in the distance of her mind to what’s happening to her and where her defenseless self is going. She never knows if she may have to walk home or find a place to stay. Her subconscious perks nudges her paranoia when it looks like she is on the way to school. Suddenly the car stops and she sees buildings and a vast deadness of the barren forsaken wasteland. It screams hopelessness and lifeless. The creature orders her in and commands her to sit while she’s bored and impatient, playing with her chain heart bracelet, apprehensively twisting it around and around and then the other way. Over the years she has erased her identity as Kaitlyn and become Kayte. Kayte sits there silently wishing the world dead; for them to all just burst into fire and amuse her with the running flames. Running and screaming and wiping the world clear of evil. The flames will leave all the animals because animals are pure love and selflessness. But the bitch talking to her father is connected to something unknown. Unknown means fear but the Kayte is strong and refuses to show any fear. The only fear she possesses is the turmoil raging around inside her.Soon Kayte is alone; left with her rage and inner fear in the same room as the creature. She sits there, bored and also frightened, shaking and making slashing marks with the sharp part of the heart on her wrist, twisting the chain around her wrist, being very slightly comforted by this thing she can understand and hold onto. And the idea that she could do this same motion with a much sharper object and create a very satisfying blood pool. Somehow it comforts her in a sick, twisted way. Another hateful being appears and requests Kayte to go with her. Only Kayte knows she has no choice and the security guard eyeing her supports this conclusion. She answers the ridiculous questions and is taken to her cage-like room, denying her any freedom. Knowing she’s alone, she holds onto her confidence; clutching at it like a small child’s security blanket, holding it like the heart on the bracelet on her wrist; determining to not be broken, because that is what they want.