2 - starlight stuff?

So I've written the next two installments of Starlight. But there are several problems I have come across. 

1) Marky is a really unlikeable character. I wanted her to be unlikeable, which is why I made her so cynical, but now I realize - especially when written in a school setting - that she's rather Bella Swan-ish. And I definitely don't want that. Nor do I really want the awkwardness that ensues when Marky goes into school in the next few installments, and it's made me really uncomfortable with this whole story in general, so I think I may restart it - or at least edit the entries that are already published - so that I can do the tweaking that I desire. I don't really know what I'll do for the beginning, but I know what I want to happen, so I'll just work towards that. I have all the secondary characters planned out. Marky herself seems really boring to me, though, especially with the stuff I was going to put her through. 

2) Starlight is the name of a novel by Neil Gaiman. I'd rather my story have an original title, so that's getting changed as well.

That is all, I suppose. -ollies out-

barricade memories

   Today I went to the mall with my wonderful friend. We went to FYE and I found this really cool sonic screwdriver that i have not previously known existed. It had these really cool victorian designs on them or something, and it was dark red. Totes awesome, yo. Also, I bought the deluxe edition of the Les Mis soundtrack, and it's making me both sad and happy to listen to - giving me all these memories of that wonderful day when I first watched the movie. I think I've said it before, but I wish I could go back to that day and live in it forever.

I'm going to write more of that beach story now but I wanted to talk about that so yeah

1 - starlight - pt. 2

    My new school is called Sullivan's Cape High. It is a fitting name, considering that this town is called Sullivan's Cape and there's only one other high school around here, located halfway into the next town. SCH is close to my house, so that is the one my parents are sending me to. 
    I visited once last week, when we first arrived here. The principal took me on a small tour around the vicinity. I'm not going to take the time to describe the principal, but I'll tell you a little bit about the school itself. It's a long building, mostly on one level aside from the music rooms located in the basement. I took a particular interest in the computer room, which was full of sleek new PCs. I'm more of a Mac person, but that's alright, I guess.
    I do not know anyone at my new school, aside from the principal, who doesn't count anyways. At my old school in Montana, I had a few friends and avoided the vast majority of the rest of my sophomore class. I never really had anyone to call my best friend - just people who would hang out with me by default, because there was no one cooler or because they noticed my reclusiveness. Now that I think about it, I don't think they really could have been called my friends. They haven't called or e-mailed me since I left Montana.
    I guess I didn't leave as much behind as I thought I did.
    Tomorrow is the first day of school. I'm wearing a Homestuck shirt to attract fellow Homestucks. That's what nerds do to make friends, right? Right.
     At least I have Becquerel. He will always be my friend. 
     Right now I am sitting on my bed. The lamp on my dresser is on, casting a soft light about the room, and the curtains are thrown open so that I can see the ocean a few streets down. Suddenly the houses end and the sand takes the place of the grass and concrete and suddenly there is water. The sky is growing darker, and the waves are so gray and still and the sky is so cloudy that when I look at the horizon, I can't tell where sea meets sky and sky meets sea.
      Bec is asleep on my pillow, even though I bought a sizable L. L. Bean dog bed for him. He gets tired easily, being a plump little ball of energy as he is. He's sprawled out on the pillow, so small that he doesn't even take up the whole rectangle. I stroke his back absentmindedly with my journal propped open across my knees, and my stomach is already churning from nervousness - I don't know what school will be like tomorrow. 
       I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
    
   

20 - starlight - part 1

He said, "Look at you worrying so much about things you can't change

You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way."

He was trying to skip rocks on the ocean, saying to me

"Don't you see the starlight, starlight

Don't you dream impossible things?"

   
    Becquerel is my 9-week-old Samoyed puppy. He is my world.
    My parents agreed to move on the condition that I be rewarded with a puppy for my efforts. I'm not quite sure that a small, fluffy animal can make up for the loss of everything I've ever known, but it does an awfully good job. Nothing fights off sadness quite like puppy breath.
     My name is Marky. I am of average height and average weight and I am spectacularly talented at hating people/things/the universe, except Bec. I have long dark hair that I usually tie up or whatever because I can't be bothered to have it falling in my face, but my buns don't come out looking all messy and cute like they do for those girls in pictures on Instagram; they usually look like the nest of some small creature sitting on the back of my head. (FYI, I do not have an Instagram. Such things are mainstream and I am certainly not the kind of person who likes mainstream things. I don't even know if there are pictures of sexy girls with messy buns on Instagram, but I'm sure you understand what I'm trying to say.) My eyes are a muddy grayish-blue, like half-melted snow that has been stepped on by fat children, running around in their too-large boots while trying to enjoy what's left of the fanciful white coldness that will be gone when winter is over.
       People say I'm long-winded. That is a lie.
       I am not a beach girl. Nor am I a city girl or a country girl. I do not let my surroundings define me. What defines me is my affinity for things strictly not-hipster and not-mainstream and my incredible ability to get to round 14 in Zombie Black Ops. It's so weird that everyone around here spends their life splashing and laughing and tanning and going loopy in all the sun. Don't they know there are more important things than their next beach trip?
       What I mean to say is that last week we arrived here - here being the vague beach town titled Sullivan's Cape, NC - from Montana. Majestic mountains and hiking boots to flat beaches and heat and skin. And I didn't really care about the move, but I wanted to get something out of it, so I requested a puppy because puppies are awesome and because my parents thought I was really distraught about the move which meant they were willing to do anything for me as long as I didn't put up a fight, and if I had done that they would have dragged me here anyways and everything would be the same as it is now, minus one puppy. So I'm alright with it here. But I do miss the mountains and cool air.
        I start school soon. Yes, soon I will be among the ranks of skinny tanned girls and buff tanned guys who are all vapidly obsessed with the beach and stuff, while I, the palest person within a 50 mile radius, who does not fit into either category and never will, will be trying to exist in a way that is not to conspicuous and not too mainstream and not too hipster.
       It will be hard. Wish me luck.

19 - DDOCCCTOR FREAKIN' WHWWOOOOOOO

It is eleven o'clock at night and here I am, working on my AP Bio project because I am a hideous procrastinator. Also, I got halfway through with the project, decided I hated my progress, and started over again. I am now incorporating Doctor Who into it because science + Doctor Who = beautiful rainbow unicorn sparkles.

Maybe I should just stay up until midnight. Homestuck will probably update.

I'm writing an increasing number of these ranty posts. When did my blog become an angst pit? 

I have felt no inclination to write recently. I keep trying to and quitting.

Why does school have to be so stressful? Why do I have to worry so much about grades? Why does everyone go around saying that teenagers don't have real feelings, teenagers can't make any real decisions, teenagers don't understand the world, then expect us to make decisions about our future that will influence us for the rest of our lives? We're treated like children until we're 18, and then we're thrust out into the world and expected to make it. Seems a little brutal to me.

Meh.

Pi day was delicious today. I ate lots of food. 

I was just thinking about Doctor Who and how much I loved it last January when I first started watching it. I like to remember happy things. I like to think about things I used to like and go, yeah, that was the best time. I wish I could go back to that. I still like Doctor Who, but back then it was like DDOCCCTOR FREAKIN' WHWWOOOOOOO. And it was really great, and freshman year was awesome, and all was right with the world. But then as I got further into the show, the writing changed and the Doctor was different and not as fun anymore. And then I got older and time changed and people changed and here I am now and everything has changed. 

Each year seems harder than the last, I have found.

Speaking of Doctor Who, the hiatus will end on March 30. I'm actually not very excited after seeing the first half of season 7. I'll watch it, of course, but I don't really like where the show is going. There are too many random explosions and things, and I feel like the Doctor isn't himself. It's like Doctor Who water you doinn'. Y u no be good anymoaar

I'm gonna leave now. I have to finish stuff and, like, get some sleep.

18 - pi

It is Thursday, March 13, also known as Pi Day. I spent a really long time last night making a quadrillion snickerdoodles (with icing pi symbols on top) to bring in to school today. They are delicious, but the recipe said it would only produce 24 cookies. I got five batches out of that dough, man. What am I supposed to do with all of these cookies??????  dude I got up at like 5 a.m. and made all these freaking cookies

Here are three cool facts about π so you can get your daily dose of education:
- Albert Einstein was born on Pi Day. 
- Computing π is considered a stress test for a computer. 
- Hiroyoki Gotu holds the world record for numbers of π memorized at 42,195.

There that was fun now let's stop talking about math 

I have to finish my AP Bio project tonight. Otherwise, I won't be able to go to the beach this weekend, because that is where we are going. 

I recently read This Side of Paradise, and I enjoyed it very much. Fun Fact: F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife, Zelda, was so dramatic that once, when she noticed him talking with someone else at a party, she threw herself down a flight of marble stairs to get his attention. She was later diagnosed with Schizophrenia. Then Scott died from alcoholism and she literally died in a fire. Sad story. 

17 - rainbow

Welp my AP Bio test is today and I'M GONNA FAIL WHOOOO WHAT ELSE IS NEW

What happened to my grammar nazism i don't really know

Yesterday after school we went to Target and I got a really pretty sweater. It's minty green at the top and fades into a more intense spearminty green at the bottom. So, like, from peppermint to spearmint. This is my gum sweater. I'm wearing it right now and it is quite cozy.

Tonight, I'm making snickerdoodles for pi day. I'm going to ice little pi symbols on top of each one. 

When we were driving home from school yesterday, the ceiling window or whatever was open to the sky. In the shotgun seat, I tipped my head back just to rest, and when I opened my eyes I saw a rainbow. It was straight upward, high in the sky where barely anyone would care to look for it. Like it was there just for me. I thought about how the rainbow was God's promise to Noah - that He would remember their covenant. And I felt like God was trying to help me remember that He's still there, even when I can't see Him.

16 - cheese baths

Today I was studying for a math test and eating cheetos and my mom told me she once watched a TV show on how cheese puffs are made. She said that the little corn meal shapes are baked and then tossed in a cheese bath. How amazing would it be to get tossed in a cheese bath? Or to take a cheese bath in general. Like, woah.

I'm really tired and I have a bunch of stuff due this week and I might be going to the beach over the weekend  but I have a huge AP Bio project due next Monday?????? And gosh school I just would like it if this year would end

I really want to do more art. I want to use my drawing tablet, but I never have the time. I need to clean my room. I want a new pair of headphones since my brother broke my old pair. 

I have a history test today that will decide whether or not I'm taking the exam. I also have a math test that I studied hard for and think I'll do okay on, which is a bit of a stretch because I seem to never do well on math tests, no matter how hard I try.

Also, today is picture day. 

Meh.

15 - another mindless thought post

I really was going to write more of that last post but I'm really tired and I want to stop.

My hair's wet but it's beginning to dry on its own.

I went clothes shopping with my mom today and started crying in the dressing room because it's hard to look at yourself in the mirror and think positive thoughts when stuff happened recently that makes you feel bad about yourself. 

We went to Dairy Queen. I had a cherry dilly bar.

I would like to go to sleep.

What if all the spiders in the world were actually cats instead? Cats clinging to walls. Sticking your foot in your shoe to find a tiny kitten curled up inside. Can you imagine accidentally walking through a catweb?

I wish it were Christmas again. I wish I didn't live so far away from my cousins. I want to go to their house and make slushies and have Nerf battles and watch Netflix with them. Wow, I really miss them.

Today in PetSmart we saw a girl walking a pig. I'm not kidding. It was of average size and it was just walking around and stuff. Its hooves made noises. That's what hooves do.

NOW LOOK AT THIS GLORIOUS VIDEO.

IT'S LIKE ART DRUGS. LOOK AT IT OMG LOOK AT THE ART STUFF HOLY CRAP LOOK AT IT 

Apparently it costs $1,700.

HEY MOM I KNOW WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS 

11 - the funny thing

I don't really feel like writing.

I want to go watch Firefly and try out my brush markers and try to forget about Celeste. But I nine blog posts and a good amount of homework to do.

I don't even know what those last two things were. The poem? A love story. I don't really know. I just sort of typed words as they came.

I'm sure her phone did drop in a bathtub. She tends to break her phones. Kind of like how she tends to leave people who thought she would be there for them.

The Radioactive whatsit was a botched short story idea that I started a while ago and doubt I will finish. 

I just hope she doesn't come crying to me when they have a fallout. I'll be like, where you been, brah?

The funny thing is that last year, I disclosed to her that I had a crush on someone. She wouldn't shut up about it. She practically tormented me about it, all ha-ha! You have a crush! You're such a girl! And then she goes and gets a boyfriend and spends every waking moment with him

The funny thing is that I would never blatantly make fun of her feelings. Maybe I should have known then that this friendship wasn't really going to work out.

Maybe I should have known that she tends to latch on to whoever is available at the time. Then, it was me. Now, it is him. And it's guaranteed that if her grandmother died this year instead of last, I would not have been the one by her side every step of the way, when she had to confront her family and her father and her grandmother's coffin. No. Now, it would be him. 

She doesn't need me anymore. Apparently our friendship was based on when she needed me, when it was convenient for her. And now that she's found someone else - someone better - what good am I to her?

10 - radioactive, pt. 1

It is all gray.

Around me, people stagger aimlessly, coughing, pressing their oxygen masks to their face. The heavy smog is wrapped around the city, weighing down the sky with pollution. When I look toward the tall buildings of the downtown area, I can only see for a few hundred feet before the rest of the area fades into fog. And when I look upward, all I can see is the thick black dust filling the sky. There is no sunlight here – nothing that I can feel. Just a milky light filtered through the smog.

But I am infinite.

I stand up on my tiptoes, reaching up with empty fingers, stretching towards the broken sky. Then I step forward and lift off the ground. I soar upward. The wind whips at the tail of my shirt, and I breathe in the air, gasp for it, take more deep breathes than I have in years. My dream self doesn't need to wear a mask to breathe.

I pause when I reach the peak of the tallest building, hanging there in a dark cloud, a massive ghost that covers everything.

I'm waking up to ash and dust

I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust

I'm breathing in the chemicals

This is it – the apocalypse.

9 - valley island story

they say she used to live in the valley

between the mountains surrounded by the sea.

islands are better for reclusive types.

she wore white,

believing it was the color if passion.

she was passionate about many things.

he had wings.

he liked to sail on the updrafts from the balmy sea air

paperwhite feathers spread in greeting.

boats are hard to float in

when your guilt will make you sink.

the black water will lap at your black heart

she always knew what she had done.

so she stood in her cottage, 

white draperies surrounding,

not facing what had happened

borne back ceaselessly against the black water current.

bird boy.

angel boy.

snowy wings and pale face,

ebony hair and inky blood.

borne back ceaselessly against the white wind.

she spun things with her fingers,

long and lythe.

glittering gossamer fabrics,

shattering spinneret songs.

he landed on the porch,

against the sandalwood.

shattering spinneret songs

pounding on his obsidian eardrums.

"i'm not ready!" she told

her angelic executioner.

"there's more i have to do."

he shook his onyx head.

"i don't make bargains."

the starless blade was ready in his fingers. 

"i'll make a trade with you,"

she said earnestly.

as if she didn't understand 

that trades and bargains are nearly the same.

it was really a deal in the end.

her life

for 365 turnings of shattering spinneret songs.

for 365 turnings

he landed on the on the porch,

against the sandalwood.

for 365 turnings

the island heard the music

of shattering spinneret songs.

and for 365 turnings

she and he 

forged something.

and his blood became less inky,

his hair a little less ebony,

their hearts a little less hopeless,

her black water clearer,

his obsidian eardrums lighter,

her white dress a little more bright.

and it came to be 

365 turnings had passed.

"i'm not ready!" she told

her angelic executioner.

"neither am i,"

said he.

so they ran.

against the current,

borne back ceaselessly against the past.

8 - this is the last post about it i promise

   I recently attended a wonderful birthday party. We played cops and robbers and I ate, like, five cupcakes and we watched Howl's Moving Castle. 

   Afterward, we went to the mall. I got some cool brush markers, which I am about to try out. I read a good amount of Ranger's Apprentice no.5, The Sorcerer of the North. Another friend and I sniffed almost all the candles in the Yankee Candle store. I want to raid that place. I got a minty milkshake thing from McDonald's. We found a book in Barnes and Noble's that creepily relates to our lives. We visited Wet Seal and American Eagle. 

  Then we went Aeropostale. 

  I've never been there before, and my friends wanted me to see it. So we walked in. And guess who was there? Her. Yes, her. My best friend who apparently left me so she could spend the rest of her life snuggling or whatever with her boyfriend, so it seems. Of course he was with her. Not like they ever spend any time together.  Her mom was there as well, spouting some stuff about how sorry she was that she never replies to my mom's calls and how they missed/forgot about the scheduled dinners and mall trips and blatant attempts at restoring our friendship that I had made with Celeste. Yeah, Celeste. That's what I'll call her for now.

So this is what happened. My thoughts during the events are in italics. What I said is in normal font.

I enter from stage left, stage left representing the front of the store. Celeste, Celeste's Mom (CM) and Celeste's Boyfriend (CB) enter from stage right, stage right representing the back of the store. 

Me: (thinking) oh my god they had to be here they had to ruin my day didn't they

Celeste: Hey, girrrl!!!!1111!

Me: you have to use that term with me? as if we're still friends, as if nothing ever happened between us? Oh, hi.

CB: (stares at me vapidly)

Celeste: I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts earlier! My phone is dead! (laughs) I dropped it in water or it got wet or my dog ate it or I simply ignored your messages or some other lame excuse!!!!11!

Me: Oh, that's okay. It's totally not okay.

CM: I'm so sorry I haven't replied to your mom's phone calls! (laugh laugh laugh ohsofunnyhaha laugh) We've been so busy! Life just gets so busy, you know!!!!

Me: Yeah, I know. You're too busy for me, even though I'd always make time for you. That's okay.

Celeste: Well, it was really nice seeing you!!!!!!!

Me: wait what

Celeste, CM, and CB prance toward stage left and disappear. They are gone. They do not look back.

Me: (watches them go. Begins walking toward stage right, looking behind me every few moments, unable to leave that they left so quickly.)

Me: what but but are you just going to leave did you really just leave what what why are you doing this to me enejskejhakehjskaehsaesaesaesa

Me: (continues walking toward stage right, punching in a phone number, my throat hardening.)

My mom: (answers from other line) Hello?

Me: You'll never believe who I just saw at the mall.

My mom: Who?

Me: (unable to speak. gathers up resolve) Camden.

My mom: What?! What did she say?

Me: (silent.)

Me: (gasps for air. cannot breathe.)

Me: (begins to cry.)

Me: (cannot speak.)

Me: She just… left. And he was there and her mom was there and they just left they just left me here like they didn't even care - (cries.)

Mom: Alright. We'll talk about this when we get home. You're going to have to make some decisions. Don't cry, honey. Try to have fun with your friends.

Me: (tearfully) Bye, then. (hangs up. cries.)

Then my friends were there and they helped because they are wonderful friends. Thank you, wonderful friends. <3 

But I'm just. . . really a;hsahdohasdasihd;h god, I'm just so upset I don't understand. I mean nothing to her anymore. Nothing. I thought we were friends. I thought I thought I thought. None of my thoughts ever mean anything when it comes to her, do they? They're always wrong. I'm always wrong. She doesn't care about me anymore.

I can't do this anymore. I'll talk about it later.   

7 - rooftop dancer, pt.1

   Calla was a dancer, and dancers took risks. This had never really been a problem for her.

   At age sixteen, her life revolved around her art. Short and slim, long-limbed and petite, she moved and breathed ballet. It was all that occupied her mind, ever since she began taking ballet classes at age four. She had always loved leotards, tutus, slippers, lights, glitter, applause. She lived from performance to performance - she lived to twirl under the hot bright lights, exerting herself into becoming something exotic and alien. She lived to hear the roaring cheers of the crowd, to feel the pride bursting from her as she bowed over in thanks, extending her arms gracefully to the side. If she wasn't dancing, life felt like a dull, lethargic limbo. Her grades were important, she supposed, but her dreams were more so. And she wasn't going to stop chasing them down.

     The rising sun brought startling light to the metal and glass utopia that was New York City, leaving its inhabitants hissing and ready for their first cup of coffee. Calla awakened to the warm sunbeams on her face, and she sat up, pushing the white duvet cover down to the foot of the bed. Her alarm clock's neon green letters spelled out the time - 7:00 A.M. It was Saturday. She was ready to face the day.

6 - siblings and hitler

My brother and I have never really been close. I mean, we've been close, I guess, but he's always been rather aggressive, and I'm the total opposite. I know he loves me or whatever, but he's friends with a lot of my friends, and those friends of mine often pass on little snippets of things that he says about me when I'm not around. These things often hurt my feelings. "He thinks you're weird!" "He thinks you need to get a boyfriend!" And I, of course, being the quiet kind of person who likes to avoid conflict, have never confronted him about this. Even though I do complain about him to my friends sometimes, I would never blatantly insult him or gossip about him. He's my brother. I got really freaked out when my friends started speculating who he was dating. I was just like HELLO I'M HIS SISTER AND I'M SITTING RIGHT HERE HOW COULD YOU SAY TO MY FACE THAT YOU THINK HE'S HOT THAT IS WEIRD. It's only recently that we've been developing a relationship that feels right. He told me a secret today. Something that he doesn't want my mom to know about. (It's not serious, just a funny little thing that our mom would freak out over because she's our mom.) And I'm just really happy that he, like, confided in me, because he's never done that before.

It also just so happens that he's leaving for university in the fall. 

I don't think I'm really taking it hard. When I think about it, I don't really feel sad or anything. It's just something that's going to happen. I'll be sad when it happens, but I can't see myself pining over it. Not yet, at least.

So anyway. Today I had a test over Elie Wiesel's memoir Night, which is about the Holocaust. While studying, I started surfing Wikipedia, and I found my way to the article about Adolf Hitler after starting out at an article about the Giant Anteater. I learned that Hitler got married 40 hours before he died and that there is actually a baby picture of him on Wikipedia. 

Look at that face. I find it so strange that he was once a sweet child just like we all were, someone whose mother held his hand and washed his hair and loved him, only to grow up and be corrupted beyond recognition. It just makes me wonder how many babies living in the world right now will grow up to become evil dictators.

4 - feelings?

I saw Titanic for the first time yesterday, and it crushed my feelings. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day today.

Yesterday was also my brother's birthday. We went to The Melting Pot with one of his friends, and it was amazingly delicious. I tasted duck. It has this intrinsic cinnamon flavor to it. My brother is eighteen now, a legal adult. He's leaving for college in the fall. It'll be like I'm an only child or something. I already see my mom cry about it every other day, even though she knows I'll still be here. Still here for two more years that I hope will be bearable. I just really want this school year to end. I want to focus more on art, because I rarely have time to use my tablet.

I've been feeling kind of lonely lately.

On Friday evening I spent some time with a few friends. We sat around a campfire and everyone started talking about themselves and soon everyone was crying. I realized that there's so much sadness, so much pain in the world, even if someone appears to have it all together.

I don't want to go back to school tomorrow. Or ever.

I got this wonderful two-toned candle today, and it's currently burning on my dresser.

It's been a while since I gathered the effort to put something in my 2013 happy jar.

3 - varagane behind the gate

  “No,” Enmiel told me, brown eyes flashing like they always did when she was indignant. “It's not safe out there. You know that.”

  I rolled my eyes and looked away, clenching my fists. “But I'm almost done with my training!” I said in exasperation. I was sick of my older sister always trying to shelter me. I wasn't a baby anymore – I had nearly come of age. “You're not going to be able to tell me what to do forever, you know.”

  She glanced at me as we walked. The expression on her face seemed amused. “Well, maybe not. But for the time being, you're not allowed to go past the gate because I don't want you to.”

  “Fine,” I spat. I turned on my heel and ran back in the direction I had come from, my feet slamming into the ground as I dodged among the people crowding the village. I avoided any familiar faces, not wanting to talk to anyone. I was heading home, and that was that.

  “Hey! Varagane! Are you coming?” Called a voice. I stopped abruptly, and my best friend, Darren, slammed into me. He laughed and stepped back. “I'm sorry. What did your sister say?”

  “I'm not allowed,” I growled, anger pulsing through me. “What else is new?”

An apologetic look flashed across his face. “Oh. Well, I'm sorry, Varagane,” he said softly. His dark red hair was sticking up in all directions, and he brushed a gloved hand through it absentmindedly.      “Maybe next time you can come with us.”

   “Yeah, sure,” I snapped, a sinking feeling resolving itself in my chest. “Go on with out me. Whatever.”

  Darren bit his lip as if he were about to say something. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd, running off to join his other friends.

  I ran away. I didn't know where I was going; just away. I was so tired of being left behind because my sister was an overprotective jerk. I was also tired of my friends going off without me, as if it was okay for me to be left alone and bored and upset. I wish for once that they would just stay with me. They knew that I had never been allowed to go past the gate. It wasn't like that was going to change soon.

   I scaled the familiar old tree that led to our home, the treehouse where I had lived for as long as I could remember. Instead of entering it, I crawled along a thick branch that extended into the sky, perching myself at the end. There, I sulked. There was nothing else to do, anyways. Soon the sky darkened and the stars came out. I could feel the adventures they were having without me.