Summary of Freshman Year

The Octave of October

Note to Readers

The twister had calmed to winds still sleek
They created beautiful art
I wished from this practice a path to relief
Alas such relief is too far
What do you expect from a broken heart?

I have hid my art behind a screen
Deciphering, some of you are
Some of you probably know it's me
And may keep your distance quite large
I'm not surprised for my morale is scarred

I may take rest from this for a week
For writing these are getting hard
My welfare and writing seems too bleak
Internally I'm ripped apart
It seems my mind will be forever dark

There was this thing I had started in the beginning of Freshman year, which happens to be one of the few things I do not regret.

Ever since sixth grade, I have had this dormant passion for writing poetry. It was not until my seventh-grade ELA teacher read my poems did I ever get any good feedback, if any. She's someone I must thank for being here now.

When last year I started having extremely negative thoughts and actions, poems became the places where I poured pure emotion, resulting in the melodramatic themes in my poetry then.

But the thing I had started this year was a daily poetry project. I had a inactive second Instagram account, of whom to everyone the belongings were unknown, save for two people. And what happened was as follows:

I made a list of everyone in the class of 2022 in 2017-2018 and tracked down their Instagram accounts if they had any. After that, in a span of two minutes I requested to follow each and everyone of them, including myself to maintain anonymity. At the end of every school day I would make a poem and make a JPEG photo out of it, which I would post on the account.

The low publicity and like count did bring me down a bit, but I continued to write daily poems, to the point I was always thinking about what I was going to write next.

And there was this girl, whose name will be Rosa for the sake of anonymity. I had first saw Rosa the year before. I can't remember if I had mentioned her before in Overview of Middle School but that was the year I first saw her. It was during a field trip to Quebec City, and we were on a boat that was on some lake whose name I don't remember. I was looking at the crescent moon and the lights of the city from the water when I look to the right and I see her. 

Arms crossed, one leg resting on the other, staring blankly at the kids on the dance floor doing backflips and partying with beaming smiles. Was it the solemn ambience or was it just because she was pretty? I have heard once that mystery and a gray disposition is attractive. I can't swear on it that she saw me looking at her.

For a year and a half now she's been on my mind. And more about that later.
But she DM'ed me one morning and told me how she didn't care that she who I am, and that she is there to talk to whenever. Of course, I don't talk to strangers, and so I wrote a little paragraph of how I was thankful, that I was indeed a little blue and yada-yada.

So following that event I decided to take my first week off the poetry thing. I was already seeing myself getting a little mentally exhausted over it, like it was becoming more of a chore than a way to express myself.

But during that break I felt an urge to continue. Not because I wanted to, but because I felt my posting of poetry was my way of talking to people I have never talked to before. And I liked that, considering the fact my people-skills are quite dull and actually non-existent.

That is also around the time I kind of wanted people to know it was me. Maybe it was because I wanted to finally share some of my pain and someone else's pain.