-Andrew-
I walked down the hall, my earbuds in to a surprisingly loud music, I glanced back and forth to the people who pranced back and forth to find their classroom, some which were in a completely different building. I noticed worried looks in each of their faces, it made me wonder how stressful this year could go.
I was walking, everyone was running besides me but I'd walk. I couldn't find a urgent enough reason to run. I find myself often bored of the life I got. I need something or someone to bring sparks into my life in order to have a reason to run.
As I walked, I tried not to pay attention to those around me. It's boring. As soon as I saw the board with poems, I stopped my steps. I predicted that those were new poems.
I stepped closer to it, looking at all the sheets of paper pasted on the board, then starting to read.
"
There's no one
No one to look at
No one to scream at
No one to love
Just boring screaming children
Who are we now to judge who we are?
We change the way they raised us
Cause that's not how they praised us
We cry we cry at night
Have no one to stare at
No one to look at
No one to scream at
No one love
"
Anonymous
I always wanted to know who was the author, who wrote this poems that I most love? I somehow feel a personal connection to the words, to the touch of the paper, I feel sparks.
I don't think I should know their name. Anonymous sounds like someone who doesn't want to be known. Someone who wants to stay hidden. Can't image the reason why someone would want to hide from the beauty of their creations. Maybe it was a coy personality that made pieces of art.
Reading this makes me have the urge to reach to the author and give them a kiss. Or maybe, it's just my desperate need of loving someone that hits me.
I turned around and head to creative writing class. I had to choose an extra class off the program in order to study veterinary. Writing class is my last class of the day. Once I got there the bell rang signaling I was early, almost late. I took a seat, waiting patiently for the class to begin. As soon as the teacher instructed us to be quiet, we all followed.
"Okay class, today we are talking about poetry," the teacher said, as he wrote the word 'poetry' on the board. Everyone booed in disapproval, I cringed. The teacher rolled his eyes, clearly tired of our class behavior.
"Has anyone of you read the poems form the board?" I felt my heart jump. I felt some sort of tinlging sensation at the mention of the poems.
"No." They all answered.
"Yes." My voice and someone else said. I turn my head towards the voice, it's him, it's Dalton Herdman.
...
So this is the first chapter of the book!
Hope you enjoyed it! Took me a long time, I just wanted to really make a good first chapter.
Love y'all <3
YOU ARE READING
I Told The Stars About You
RomanceSomehow the two boys always find ways to each other, everything they do, everything they think about always comes back to the two of them. As if they are tied together by a string. More like a chain to be frank. Yet they don't mind. Andrew and Dalt...
