Misanthropic

Chapter I

I like to get to the point and so i will:

My name is Amber im 13 i live in san Francisco i have a sister 10 yrs old and a brother 3 yrs old. My mother is a PE teacher and my dad does some weird stuff i cant know about. My parents are unhappily married but wont admit it even though all of California knows. we live about 3miles from the beach in a house that is always filled with the screaming of curses and name calling arguments always over something petty like when they made the bed their pillows got switched. goddamn it if the got switched who gives a fuck i mean come on it obnoxious! Any way, i spend much of my free time noticing, noticing simple and complex things everyday people dont because they are always in a hurry.

That is a pretty crappy intro from content to the writing but the world can just get ovr it.

Monday november 12 .

I drift in and out of sleep feeling the illusion of a rocking ship in the swell of ocean waves. i am on a private beach (only private due to others lack of knowledge) alone. i sit indian style a few ft from the wet sand, watching the winter waves crash into the speckled sand and sway in toward the sea fading just before the next wave rises and curls into a tube following suit along the crest throughout the wave, a beautiful thing to surf. . . Dude. the beauty is then smashed and dragged back out to be repeated. there are plenty of ways to interpret this, metaphorically speaking, it could be said that the wave represents a person, wonderful and strong being brought down by either society, ones self ect. then the person picks themselves up out of the ruins and is strong again just before they perish once more over and over. with that thought im in my warm bed under a soft purple blanket ive had for years and i lay there clutching my pillow, i imagine the beach sene and interpret the constant waters pattern in a new light flouting between my bed and the beach.