Thank you, Dark-Angel-Tears, I like hugs! And thanks everyone else for reviewing as well! Amanda Lynn, that's my best friend's name. Coincidence?

As I fell into my dreamless nap, my body was turning all over my sheets and I was sweating in coldness. All the frightening information about Dameon and all the emotion I had to go through with these two unbelievable boys got me to wake up abruptly after only a painful hour of what was suppose to be a peaceful nap.

I looked at my clock and found it to be only 7:00. I groaned and slowly got off my bed. My neck and shoulders were killing me. I washed my face, put my glasses on, and staggered downstairs into the Study Hall. There, sat my paper and pencil, still yet to compose a poem for me, that was due for English class on Monday.

I sat down at the table and starred at the two school materials. I picked up the pencil to only bring the tip of it onto the first line of the paper, and it sat there for about five minutes. I still had no creativity in me.

Suddenly, as I lifted my head, I saw a brief glace on John walking by from one room to another.

The inspiration hit me. Creativity was pouring into my finger tips. As well as anger and boredum. I began to write. This was it, this was my momentof creation!

The weekend passed by quickly. Saturday, I went to the mall with Rouge, Jubilee, and Logan. (He was our ride.) Sunday, I stole a Mopad from Scott and drove to the Church in Downtown Weschester. They had a good sermon there. Not that Grandpa couldnt do any better, but I loved being in a beautiful chapel, and just sitting and listening to God's word sometimes.

Monday came. As I sat in my English class, having already handed off my poem, a spark of memory washed over me as I thought that I hadnt talked to Dameon the whole week, and didnt know how him and Grandpa were doing about everything.

Just as I was about to look behind me and try to talk to him, for he sat slightly behind me and to the right, the English teacher, Beast, gasped.

"Why...this peice of poetry is enlightening!" He remarked. "I havent set my eyes on a good poem such as this from a student for a very long time! I'll keep the author anonymous, but I wish to read it to the class to see what brillience we have in this classroom. I hope I'm not humiliating the composser. Ahem...

Broken Heart:

When someone breaks your heart,
Do they feel the pain you do?
When someone breaks your heart,
To them is it all the same?
When someone breaks your heart,
Do they pretend nothing happened,
So they can find another,
And break a heart again?

When someone breaks your heart,
Do you feel relieved it's over?
When someone breaks your heart,
How hard is it to fix?
When someone breaks your heart,
Is it really over,
Or do you get up,
And try your heart again?

When someone breaks your heart,
Why do you keep going?
When someone breaks your heart,
Why do you find someone else?
For you shall find another,
A better other,
But it turns out,
They break your heart again.

Isnt that gorgeous, ladies and gentlemen?"

I turned red and pushed myself slightly below the desk. I'm glad he didnt say it was I who wrote that, for I had witnessed a scene that put my heart through great pain. Now I know why they truely call it a broken heart.

After class, I caught up with Dameon. "So...how's everything?" I asked.

"Well..." He began...

Hey guys, I'm sorry my chapters are all so short, I just get spur of moment ideas. But that only means I update twice as more as people with longer chapters! Besides, I try to have each chapter go with one scene.

In case you are wondering, I DID write that poem. In Algebra class about a year ago, when I was bored, mad, and heart broken because my crush was a total jerk.

Oh, and one last thing. Do you think I use "I did this, I did that," in my story too much? This seems way too first-person in my opinion...