Entries tagged with school doodles

I often find that my greatest fears, or rather, any of my fears at all make for an abundance of inspiration in my writings. I am fortunate, yes, but I also wonder how my life would be if I didn't have as many, that when I would stand in front of my class to present or swing too high on the swing set I wouldn't have to worry of the possible expulsion of my last meal, that whenever someone recalled an event from my past, there wouldn't be a racing heart or sweaty palms as I searched frantically through my memory for something they held so dear. In ways I do not truly understand, parts of me regret not being able to control myself better. If only I wasn't as tense when talking to strangers. If only I held every one of my memories on close file to look back on when I wished. At least, this proves I'm human, right? I can feel things, too.
°
Anyways, I wrote a poem for English class to help me make sense of it all. It was an assignment, but like all assignments incorporating writing, I made it personal. She called it a villanelle. I call it "Gone."
°
°
°
"Please do not disappear!"
I yelled at the fading memories.
I only want them to be near.
~
And gone were the people that I held dear,
those twisted people, my enemies.
"Please do not disappear!"
~
And soon what happened, my greatest fear,
the worst of the atrocities!
I only want them to be near.
~
But they, my pets, caused so much drear,
leaving nothing but apologies.
"Please do not disappear!"
~
And now my mind is clear.
So instant were gone my memories.
I only want them to be near.
~
Mourning them every year,
I scream in extensies,
"Please do not disappear,"
for I only want them to be near.
°
°
Not my best work, but since it was only an assignment, and the fact that I turned it in late, it isn't the worst. It displays my feelings toward losing my memories, one of my greatest fears. Maybe a day in the future I will learn to store them better, or not. Time tells all, after all.

While searching through old school notebooks, I came across one for my history class where we had to glue pieces of paper and a bunch of random things in it while we learned about ancient peoples like the Mesopotamians or the Romans. In between the pages, I found a diary entry where I pretended to live in one of those ancient cities, and though I can no longer remember which one it was or even if I chose a real city, I'd say I did a pretty okay job at conveying the life back then...

Dear diary,
Today is the first day of summer. I just got back from pottery and my mom expects me to sweep the porch. It only has a couple of leaves, but I sweeped it anyway. It turns out you're supposed to clean the broom before you start sweeping. Now the porch is even more messier than it was in the beginning. Now I only hope that my mom doesn't find out.
I was walking back inside when I thought I heard water running. I ran into the house and checked under my bed. There was nothing. I ran back outside and looked into the well. There was nothing. I ran to the river and stuck my head under the water. Still nothing. Then I heard the most terrifying sound. A little girl screaming. I knew just where it was coming from. It was the one place that I haven't even thought of, the beach. I ran over there with my heart racing. When I got there, I saw no girl. I just saw the waves and the water. My heart was really beating now. It was beating so fast that I thought it was going to pop out of my chest. The next thing I saw was beautiful and scary. Right in front of me was a 30 foot tall wave. I wanted to runaway but I was paralyzed with fear. All I could do was scream. I screamed so loud that everyone from the top of Mt. Olympus to the very south of Crete could hear me. Everyone was running around and going crazy, but it was to late. The wave washed over me and every one in the village. We all died the same way as the little girl. We were all dragged down to the deepest trench of the sea and were never heard from again.
Sincerely,
(...)

Looking back on it now, it would have benefited me greatly if I paid more attention during my lessons. The sweeping part of the story was true, however. I did in fact make the porch significantly more dirty than when I started. I only hope my history teacher found enjoyment in reading it.

What I Wish to Know

In an Ancient City Far, Far Away