Story #2

This one is going to be just one sentence:

Blood doesn't wash out as easily as I remember.

Poem #1

A Lost Cause

A wandering soul, forever alone,

Wandering the plains looking for love.

A feeling that he has always known.

He tries to moan, only crones and groans,

Love is something he is void of.

A wandering soul, forever alone.

From land to land he has flown,

Flying and flying like a majestic dove.

A feeling that he has always known.

He used to sit upon a golden throne,

But that he had to let go of.

A wandering soul, forever alone.

No one to hold holds him down like a stone,

Love is a trick, many undeserving of.

A feeling that he has always known.

He was killed by his lover, wedging a knife into his bone,

Love is a lie, it does not fit like a glove.

A wandering soul, forever alone.

A feeling that he has always known.

Story #1

You know, sometimes I wonder why I do what I do. Why I close my doors late at night, why I can't sleep, why I shut my curtains shut. I wonder and wonder. I think about my life and shut out the darkness inside and the faces staring at me through the windows. Is that why I shut the curtains? I lie in bed with anxiety, staring at the twisted smile of a cruel murderer outside my door. Is that why I close my door? Sometimes, I don't know. It gets very confusing sometimes, and I hate it when I peek out from beneath the covers to hear a cold and shuddering voice. "Oh there you are. I've been looking for you"

Story?

So

I don't know if anyone still follows this

But if you do

I will be typing in some sort of strange story every now and then when I have time

They're probably going to be one sentence, maybe even more! In fact some are going to be an actually story, while for others, a sentence is the story itself. 

DISCLAIMER: I am not the author of all of these stories. I will write some of them, but I they will not all necessarily be mine.

In fact some weeks, I might even type in a poem and I will write down the author's name. 

Some of these may be scary, sad, or happy. It all depends on how you see it, how it makes YOU feel. 

When it happens to be a poem, I will type in "Poem #___"

Other wise it will most likely be "Story #___"

Oh and never forget

If there is something I should change or something that I could make better, please please PLEASE insert it into the comments below

The Reservation

   This blog today is about reservations all around the world. The definition of a reservation is the act of reserving something, such as land for Native Americans. The book this blog is based off of is The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie. He writes the book based off a Native American, leaving his friends and family behind to join a white school, in a white town, all for search of hope. He learns that life has it's ups and downs, but he conquers them. He moves to a town where discrimination is common, especially against Native Americans. But, the character makes his way to the top, making new friends and meeting new people. He loses friends, he gains some friends, and some of the people he loved and cared for died, leaving him with one less person to care for, one less person to give him hope.
   Reservations. Many people may not know about how many Native Americans are living these days. They live in land set aside just for them, where there is no hope left on the reservation, and the same generations stay there for years to come. They stay in their own little group, cut off from the outside world, living in impoverished conditions, where people use alcohol to get through their day.
   If I were to live in a reservation, I simply do not know if I could make it through my life. But, my own little area where it is all reserved for me is my room. I only leave when forced to, and when I have completed what I was forced out to do, I just go right back in. I lock myself out from my family, my sibling, my friends. Because of my decisions, people do not understand what I am and who I really am. I play games as an effort to escape harsh reality, much like the Native Americans drinking alcohol to avoid reality. I oppress how I really feel, and I never let anyone know what is running through my mind, what I am thinking of. People do not really understand me for who I am. I cannot trust many people, and anyone who tries to connect with me, I just push them away. I am isolated from the rest of the world, much like reservations. People like me are all in one group, and we are all similar. We are all isolated from the rest of the world, alone forever. People think I WANT to be alone, to be reserved. But I really don't. No one really does want to be alone. Everyone wants someone to talk to, someone to discuss feelings with. But I cannot find a person that understands me, a person who knows about me, a person who cares about me. No one cares. I'm just a tiny speck in the world, which is an even smaller speck of the galaxy, which is an even smaller speck of the universe. Nothing is really significant...


Yep I think this is probably my best one yet. :D

Native Son

     In Native Son, a novel by Richard Wright, takes focus on the life of a poor African-American male living in the slums of Chicago. The man is named Bigger, throughout the novel, the reader understands how he feels and how he thinks. Starting in the beginning. Bigger was a poor boy living in the slums of Chicago in the 1920's, and all that changed when he was offered a job by the rich Dalton family. Bigger had just taken up the job offer until he screwed it up. Big time. He killed the Dalton's' daughter, Mary, and even dared to ask them for a ransom. But when the body of Mary was discovered, Bigger was forced to run away with his girlfriend Betsy. Bigger and Betsy ran and ran, and when night came, took shelter. Bigger then took this opportunity to not only rape, but murder the poor defenseless girl as well. But, after a long chase, Bigger was caught, and his trial begins.

Bigger's lawyer, an aging man named Max, provided quite a defense for Bigger. He claimed Bigger to be guilty, but only because what he did was caused by the white society. Max says that Bigger only killed because he saw no way out of what he had done. As it turns out, when people are cornered, they fight like hell. No matter what, people want to get out unscathed, and they will do whatever it takes to achieve that goal.

Green Lights, Yellow Cars, and Church Steeples (All about THE GREAT GATSBY!)

     Jay Gatz...or maybe Gatsby? Nope. The internet concludes that it is James Gatz and Jay Gatsby. His names are so similar yet so different...and so confusing. But that is all besides the point. Gatsby, from the novel "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, is what this is all about. Gatsby, an "Oxford man" (Although for a short time) as well as an army man. He fought in the second world war, where his love, Daisy Carraway, left him! Can you believe the nerve of some people? Ever since Daisy left him, Gatsby has had a dream. A 5 year dream, of FINALLY reuniting with Daisy (she is married now), since he is all rich now.

     The green light, the dream he was reaching for. The dream ended because of a yellow car. And the whole speculation of it as if you are looking at a church steeple. Gatsby was reaching for a green light, a light that illuminated across from his house, which shows that it was his dream. He was reaching for his dream, but his dream was never fulfilled. Then there is the yellow car, a car used to kill a woman which in turn led to his dream ending, or rather, his realization of his dream ending. Last but not least, there is the church steeple from the philosopher Kant. He would think up of philosophies while looking at a church steeple, which matched the novel a bit. He would try to explain the philosophy between reason and human experience. Gatsby had no reason, which led to a negative human experience. Nick had human experience, which led to little reason. Green lights, yellow cars, and church steeples. I am not good with endings, so bye!