The colors of spring and winter

October 5th

It's been so long since I've updated! I've still been writing so this chapter may be long. Hope you're all well. Also I started adding punctuation to my poems I think that's new for me. I want to thank everyone who has read my stuff. Lastly I think I'll be able to get a print of my book. Not published but printed. I'm so excited! I have more to write but this is really cool.

Gaiety
Happy and light hearted

It used to be true that the mere thought of school brought me dread.
Endless assignments piling up to be taller than I was.
Pelting as hard as I could and still not quite making it up the hill.
It's a strange feeling when giving it your all isn't good enough.
But as everything does, things change.
When I can learn about what really matters to me, worlds change.

Gape
A hole or lack of some sort.

Ever since I was young there was always something that felt wrong.
I couldn't pinpoint it and I remained clueless on why I felt like there was something missing.
There was always some sort of term oil in my mind and body.
In the moments I saw the real painting I covered my eyes until I couldn't.
I realized that I was to be honest and true or miserable hiding behind curtains.
So I chose a sunny life and went down whatever path looked right.
I'm still finding a sense of where I'm headed.
The days don't always shine, some pour endlessly.
But I don't feel wrong anymore.

Garden
A collection of different plants.

I think if aliens were to come to planet earth they would see us as a lovely garden.
We are all so connected, you can't ever be truly alone as a human being.
The daisies listen to the music of daffodils for fun, they dance to the sound of their voices.
The sunflowers listen to the tomato plants writings and keep them on their bookshelves.
To listen to music is to hear the passion of another, to read is to hear the voice of one silently.
We are all so intertwined and connected, there is no alone in this garden.

Garret
The room that is directly under the roof.

Someone once told me that the room of a teenager is a reflection of themselves as a person.
The posters on the walls are the physical representations of what most lights up your mind.
The messy or clean shows how you are doing in that very moment however that may be.
All the things made with your own hands highlight the innate creativity we all possess.
It's a beautiful thing it really is.

Genuine
An adjective to describe being honest.
There is so much truth to the constantly changing cloud of identity.
One day something may be so true for you the next it's miles away.
There may be a moment when the sweater fits perfectly, just your size.
Then minutes later it has grown to be too big, the sweater swallows you whole.
Some things are fixed, have been and always will be true for the individual.
But those fixed things are different for every person who sleeps at night.
So when left to find myself I must realize I am not a still painting.
But, rather a cloud that is constantly changing in shape throughout a big lovely sky.

Glance
A quick look.

I take a second to look behind in in the path i've taken,
Things have been far beyond strange, the path upwards has not been straight.
My path towards a more sunny life has changed direction, shape, and color.
Nothing is as it was before, and to that I celebrate.
I celebrate that I am not the person I was fifteen years three hundred sixty two days ago.
I'm not who I was last year, month, or week ago. When the clock strikes midnight on October third I will be sixteen.
I take a step back to the old lakes I used to visit and the reflection isn't the same.

Glare
An angry stare of gesture.

It's been months since we last talked.
I remember hanging up the phone with tears in my eyes as you made fun of the kids I sit at lunch with.
She acted like I was different because of the way I am in her eyes, but what's the honest truth will always prevail.
I am no different.
I keep my mind busy throughout the day, I read lovely books and talk to beautiful people.
But it's when I close my eyes and the world becomes fuzzy is when the thought of you comes about.
I dream about you often, you've left your footsteps behind my eyelids.
I see that we are puzzle pieces that haven't fit together in years, I remember all the pitfalls we've had.
But part of me still cares for you and what we were.
You were my only friend when nobody else enjoyed their time with me, we laughed and cried together.
I have endless memories with you, more than I have room for.
It's that which makes me angry, to see how our paths become so different.