AN: Hello peeps! This will be the last chapter before Sam meets Danny and Tucker… the wait is almost over! Well, enjoy the chapter. And don't forget to review!
Sunday, August 5th
Okay, this is one of those good-news-bad-news situations. The ones where the bad news completely cancels out the good news, and then some. The good news: My parents signed me up for a poetry contest at the local library (although they still don't know about you, Journal). The bad news: they keep talking to me about writing a beautiful poem about nature, or an element in nature.
Death is an element of nature, but I don't think that's what my parents meant. But the poems aren't due until August 20th, so I've got some time to figure out what in the world I'm going to do. Until then, I'll just write the poem I would've liked to send in in here.
Nature.
The birds sing
Yet one day they will be silent
The tree branches sway,
But one day the tree will wilt away.
To make room for a new generation
The old generations must die
It's the natural order of life.
Death is as natural as birth.
Morbidly me,
Sam.
Thursday, August 16th
I've got the poem for the contest written and sent in.
The bird sings
And tree branches sway
A new generation is born
After the old one has gone away
Life springs forth out of everything.
Birth really is beautiful.
Sappy and full of pretty words- exactly what I was going for. I showed it to my parents, and they were pleased.
Sometimes I disgust myself. I try so hard to be confident in being me, but even I know that I mess up. A lot. And some of the things I say are really, really mean. And I don't care that I am being mean, which is what truly bothers me.
It's like I don't even care about anyone but myself. I'm selfish, reclusive, jealous, and a hypocrite. I hide by myself, but get internally sad that no one ever talks to me. I'm jealous of what others do, yet brag when I do better than them. I am a hypocrite in every meaning of the word. I want friends, but I probably don't deserve them.
Honestly, I always think of myself as this great person. But I'm really not. I'm generally polite, but I'm never kind. I can be peaceful, but the sometimes I get really angry. I can be funny, but my sense of humor is morbid, and it leaves people questioning their existence a lot of times.
I really should be a nicer person. But something tells me it'll be a lot harder than I'm assuming.
Why do I say the things I say
Knowing perfectly well that they are mean
Why am I so rude to everyone,
Why must I hurt others feelings?
Why must I do what I do?
Why must I be me?
Bye Journal,
Sam.
Tuesday, August 21st
Monday August 27th
So I've been writing in this journal for a year. Happy birthday, Journal!
Well, I've got the results from the poetry contest. I got fifth place… out of 7 people. Apparently that was really good to my parents, so they bought me a fruit smoothie. At least something good came out of this.
I start middle school in 7 days- September 3rd. I've read about middle school in books and online. Apparently it's supposed to be pure torture. At least I'm not a fancy private school (with uniforms, ugh) anymore. Still, wish me luck. I'll need it.
I have to say, I'm nervous as heck. I've heard tons of horror stories about the place, and quite honestly, I'm not sure I'll survive. Or if, when I get out, I'll still be me. From what I've heard, these next three years will either make me or break me, rhyming intended.
I know that if I just stick to the shadows and don't get involve, that I'll be fine. But I don't want to be just fine. I want to participate. I don't want to spend more years as the creepy goth wallflower. I want to make friends, live a life. Not just survive, but thrive. Rhyming intended!
And yet I can't shake these feelings of petty nervousness. What if my classmates don't like me? What if I have no friends? What if the teachers are too mean? What if the work is too hard?
What if I die from exhaustion because all the teachers are cruel dictators and all the students are heartless jerks?
Okay, that last one I just wrote to show myself that I will be fine. As long as I don't die, I will be ok. I'll cross all the other bridges when I get there.
Why am I nervous?
Why am I scared?
I'm never nervous
And am scarcely scared,
So why now?
Why am I now feeling this way?
Why am I now getting all jittery
Over something that's not a big deal anyways
Is it normal to feel this way?
But I'm not normal!
So why am I so frightened
Of something so common as school
Maybe if I pretend I'm not nervous,
My nervousness will go away.
Hopefully.
Maybe if I deny what I'm feeling, the feelings will go away?
Wish me luck,
Sam.
AN: Thanks for reading! Reviews, favorites, and follows are greatly appreciated. And wish me luck in my life too please!
InsanityIsClarity.