Look at this girls writing its amazing

http://girlmeetsnyc.blogspot.com/

Sky

(Sorry about the lack of punctuation everything is in it's rough stages)

*not sure where this is going as well its just a blurb but i'd love to know what you all think*

she was inside of a room, it was black or a severe dark gray but its black and she inside.

it felt heavy, weighted by the gravity that pushed down the room as if it was at the bottom of the ocean next to fish the glow, the ones with the large teeth and menacing faces not much different from high school,

the place where you go to learn math but where you really learn to live,

 not the way you want to but the way they want to, and if you survive and make it through without drowning yourself in a in enough stress pills and joints to make you numb than maybe your above average,

but not to them just to me.

but another quality of being above average is your gpa not your grade point average but your general pathetic accumulation, which is a mix of just how well you stockpile and mass collect information like if henry the 8th was 400 pounds and if Ann Boylen was really a whore who slept with all the men in england.

 its a tragedy really, we come to know the classroom as place of worship for our biased teachers, there own mini epicenters for their waves of destruction. they don't even know how much impact the have, they rumble the ground we stand on and sometimes even rumble all the more violently to make us fall and there gpa is a phd fancy that. that is alot of stockpiles in the minds eye, no wonder they can see past their foreheads.

thats only some though, other are mindful,watchful to keep the windshield of their forehead clear much like driving a car, you don't read while you drive do you? and you don't put your bumper stickers there either even if they are what make you who you are.

which brings up something else something else that i haven't decided on yet, where everything is everything else. did you get that? how did we get here , did we do what i think we just-

give me a second to collect my thoughts again

let me rephrase my philosophical rambling, the song of the spirt is playing the background formulated worlds of images and spiraling curling lines up my spine

it makes me want to live, jump and run as fast and as hard and as fast as i can

to push myself out into the words that make sounds inside my mouth

don't let this writing fool you for a pre teen drama, far from the middle school years nearly erupting in the ears from years of listening to the ipod on the bus to a place i can remember but i choose to forget. did you follow what i said about the ipod. musick moves me, forget my spelling it doesn't quite matter ,it matters but not to me but maybe to you , if it bothers you so much fix it , read actively and make a comment besides the word and spell it right. because what you consider right and what i consider right aren't the same type of right which leaves you and me both asking then whos wrong or better yet whos right?did i lose you ?

besides the question did you understand where i'm in the story i'm a on bus to a place a remember but i choose to forget listening to an ipod thats pink because i wanted to be someone i wasn't but someone i was regardless. so was my soul or my mind right? we have an argument again its about how kool aid is cool and not the cool that starts with a c but the one that starts with a k but you spell with c. its the whole packets that cool and as you down it it stings with some kind of acid, a drug inside you throat that is bitter and numbing all at the same time.

its better to mention how i came to be who am this second then to mention who i am in the future, i don't who i will be a second from know so i'll tell you when i get there, or when you decide that i get there.

Rough Edition

What is on the other side of the painting,

 the artist's heart their soul trapped beneath and oily soil. Their eyes open to the world yelling out their philosophies through their paintings. I wondered what was behind my painting, the one in the window. The layer of glass and then the outside world. Someplace I could go when the reflection that starred into the glass felt threatened. Maybe it was my soul, maybe a distant twin in a parallel universe. I wanted to know what she thought of me. Inside I wanted to ask her questions. Who she was? How'd she get there? and most of all why was she there and not next to me all the time.