Anxious

It's like the going into kindergarten again: new people, anxious faces, and you felt like going to sleep because your mom woke you up so damn early.
But it's different because there are groups of people already huddling together, giggling like the little schoolgirls they are. And, because you're with people you don't like, you have to go and "mingle". Tripping over words, and babbling like an idiot, you make tentative friends.
And it starts over and over again, period to period.. though passing period isn't boring. Yup, you always could get lost. What, with the big school and all. There were so many people, it was confusing. And you end up running into class and get everyone to look at you. Yeah, way to make new friends!
As the day goes on, though, there are some reappearing faces. Pretty soon, those faces were hesitantly smiling at you, because they also want to know at least one person new from the first day of school.

At least the whole year isn't going to be that bad.

Pain

Everytime I hear the cries of the little ones, the ones that don't have voices yet, the ones that haven't found theirs yet, my heart breaks.

My heart breaks that they can't communicate, and tell us what's wrong. How their cry is so pitifull, so full of anguish.

It's sad, how they kick and scream and cry their hearts out, when all they're trying to tell us is that they are hungry.

And how some people can just ignore them, and let their children faint from the exhaustion of crying.

How am I to understand the cries of children?

words

i write, not for the pleasure in writing, not for the sake in writing,
but for the sake of myself. it's my safeguard.

for words have all the patience in the world, they do not judge, they do not criticize.
they listen, and listen well.

people, you worry. worry about what they think, what they'll do. and you always have to worry if you tell a person a secret. will they tell other people?

parchment always has tight lips, and never ending patience. it's a friend, though it doesn't talk back.

you can write all you want about other people: judge others and yourself, and divulge your deepest darkest secret into it, and you never have to worry about it blabbing everything to someone else.

and, when you write something down, it eases the pain and anger a bit, it gives you some sense of renewal. sometimes, it can give you closure.

Walls

She was tired of it all. The yelling, the screaming, the fighting that always happened. Mental wars, and wars among attitudes. Everyone was always waiting for the other to put up the white flag.
Say something, and the other person would do the opposite. Do something wrong, and you get punished. Even look at a person the wrong way, and you get messed up.
Someone once told her that you don't always have to fight all the time. They were wrong. She's tried not fighting, and that got her even more hurt. She lost herself, trying to please people all the time. She lost her essence, and she didn't even enjoy anything, even the moments of peace. Yes, there was more peace on the outside, but on the inside, she was yelling, kicking, and screaming like a banshee.
Tears poured out of her eyes every night, tired of the insults that she heard, even though she didn't deserve to hear them. So, instead of being walked all over, she made a mask.
On the inside, she was what the horoscopes of a Cancer described: soft, and sensitive. She cared for everyone and everything around her, and clung to the traditions that she knew.
But the mask that she now wore was perfect: she was the complete opposite. She was rude, and she didn't care what other people thought of her. Insults flew out of her mouth, left and right, and she wreaked havoc on other people's thoughts and feelings.
Slowly, the thought came to her. Who was she to treat other people this way? She was as worse as the people who made her create the mask. So she created another one.
She created one that could deceive other people's minds, make everyone think she was alright. She made everyone think that nothing was going on, she had a good life. On the inside, she knew that she wasn't. Even through the time of peace, there was always a little voice in her head saying it was going to start soon.
And it was right. The wars began again, screaming, fighting, little twisted mind games. She had her mask on, she was tough and rude and she was wreaking havoc on others, standing up to anger personified. But on the inside, she was still the little Cancer, that got stabbed by a knife by every insult, who wanted to die when someone looked at her and said something mean.
She never forgot her essence though, she never forgot who she was. Because she had alone time after her battles, and tears always seeped out.

But with other people, she was the perfect, happy go lucky, smiling girl. Whose heart was so protected, it was encased in stone. She deceived others, but never got the satisfaction of knowing that they accepted her for who she truly was.

Scream

She felt something sticky and scaly grab her ankle. When she looked under the table, she saw hands not connected to a person, though somehow moving. They let go of her foot and started crawling to those of her two year old daughter. Her heart jumped, and she bolted up the stairs, with her daughter in her arms. Looking back, she saw a woman, and screamed. The woman had a look of utter despair on her eyes, which were sunk into her hollow face. Her face, which was tear trailed and full of cuts and bruises. But what made her scream and clutch her daughter tighter wasn't that the woman had a layer of bruises, or that she was covered in puckered scars, it was because the woman looked like her. She slapped herself, hoping that she was in a dream, but the woman stepped closer, and closer. Placing her mangled hands on her shoulders, she said, "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt."

Pain

Tears of anger, tears of pain, back and forth.. over and over again.
When will this mental war ever cease? When will we ever back down enough to put up a white flag?
Never, but that is only my opinion.
It's my war, it's my fight. My head will always be held up high.
He doesn't know how much it hurts me, how I always seem to cry after our disputes.
Even though, time and time again it happens. I would have thought I was smarter.
When will my war ever cease? When I go away, for good?
But it seems our bond is strong, though what he does wreaks havoc on my mind.
I"m scared. I'm scared of what he can do to me, mentally, and physically.
For months now, nothing has happened. But I knew that it was too good to last.
He seems to seek pleasure from hurting other people, from feeling power.
But when will it ever cease? Will I have to die fighting this never ending mental war?
My will is too strong to give up, though tears come out.
I'm not strong enough to block out body responses, nor strong enough to keep my thoughts in bay, but I know I can stand up to his anger, and to his strength.
I'm supposed to be used to it, but I'm not. Why is that?
Why is it that I know what to expect, yet still quiver in fear? Though I don't show it.
My white flag will never wave.

Lost

She ran through the familiar hallways of her house, though she couldn't say it was her home. She didn't know why she was running, though she had a vague feeling that someone was chasing after her. The maze kept getting deeper and deeper, then she fell. And when she did, despair took over her body, came over her soul, and she shook. She cried the pain that she denied, she denied that she was lost, and trying too hard. Then she realized, that the person chasing after her was despair, her loneliness.. then she withered away into nothing.

Hunger

I wake up to the sound of crying. Everyday, I hear the poor, watch their astonished eyes: they were having bread today. Their rumbling tummies were used to the hunger. Used to going days without food.
But they couldn't wait. The aroma had them under a spell, and they fought for crumbs. Scratching, clawing, hitting each other. Long bonds broken for a morsel of bread.
And yet, somewhere out there a person views their lunch disgustedly and throws it away. A perfectly good meal, PB&J.
Untouched, the poor snatch it from the trash. Bonds break, all for bread.

Crowd

Even in a sea of people, she felt vulnerable. She felt a dark, sinister presence trying to reach her, trying to hurt her. Her brain told her that nothing was out to get her, people could see her if anything happened. But her heart told her to bolt. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she ran like a gazelle. But, there were walls surrounding the others, and now even they were getting scared. "The Happiest Place on Earth", the sign said. Now, she was beginning to doubt that. She saw the big, fearful eyes of everyone around her, and cried.

I really

wanted another blog for my mindless, late night story pop ups.
so here :)

my name is Catherine Louise, and many people tend to call me many different names.
i like all colors but booger, haha.
and i think that right now, i'm going to write about something else.

i'm reading A New Spin on an Old Story right now, and it's wonderful.
i just saw 17 Again and i'm going to watch Confessions of a Shoppaholic.
i don't know, there are somethings that i would rather keep out of my other blog.

i think i'm going to work things out on how i'm going to organize my other blog,
i think i'm going to start off with a picture from now on.

i'm going to take up photography, by the way.

always, Kate.