Last blog??

Okay, so I think this week is going to be a little different than all my other posts.

I’m afraid this may be goodbye.

So the reason I started this blog was for a creative writing class that I started taking in the latter half of August. While in the class I was required to put a blog up every Friday, and each one had to fit my theme of reflections. To be quite blunt, when I first started the blog I thought I was going to hate it. Yet, over time I grew into my blog and I started to enjoy writing again. I had no idea how much I would come to love blogging by the end of this semester.

During this semester, I was forced to learn a lot about life, and a lot about myself. I learned that while one is living life they can’t constantly be looking into the past. The past is a blinding thing and though it does make us who we are, we must keep going and never look back. This is why I am going to stray away from my reflection pieces for now. I am seventeen years old and I have my whole life ahead of me. I can’t look forward towards my life if I’m constantly typing pieces about past experiences and observations.

With this said this blog post is a sort of a good-bye. While I am going to continue this blog, and there will continue be posts about every other Friday, this will be the last reflection blog.

Thank you to all who have followed, liked, and commented on my reflection pieces. I promise that when I figure out my new theme it wont disappoint.

Advertisements

Land in the Sky

swing-in-the-sky

Land in the Sky

I’m a breath of fresh air between open lungs,

I’m the crisp wave of cold after the initial plunge.

But you won’t truly see me until you open your eyes.

Hopefully when you do, you won’t mind what you see,

Because who I am can surprise even me.

Suddenly,

I catch myself daydreaming of better things.

Inserting myself into a world where I can be free:

A place where people truly try to get to know me.

Rather than taking  me for how I appear on the surface,

They think its worth it to come near

and not just listen-

But hear my heart’s true intentions.

I float away to a place where I no longer fear what people think.

A lovely land where I no longer shrink from the people I do not know.

I’m sick of the shadows,

I need a space that glows with confidence,

Where the sun’s beams can split the seams of awkwardness.

If only that could be here.

I try to draw this dream close and keep it near,

for times like this when I feel so small.

Eventually I fall from my land within the clouds,

and my feet sink  on this God-forsaken ground.

I’m pulled under and flipped around,

I have no idea which way is up and which is down.

So I stay quiet and keep to myself.

Silently looking for someone who could help.

Because the only thing worse than sinking,

Is to be left by yourself thinking,

that you are completely alone.

This is why,

Throughout the day-

When my troubles pile up and get in the way,

I float away.

I drift off to my land in the sky,

Where the ocean is deep,

but the water’s fine.

This is my only piece of heaven that will forever be mine.

Perhaps one day,

My comfort world will no longer be needed.

And the walls I have up today will have finally receded.

I’ll no longer stumble when someone looks me in the eye,

And if someone kicks me down, I’ll get up and fight.

I’ll pick myself up and face the world down.

Because maybe,

Just maybe,

I’ll finally have my feet on solid ground.

//a little reflection from the waters of my own mind//

-h.f.

Letters

choose-your-weapon

Letters

Who is the person behind these letters?

The hand behind the pen.

What things have they been through?

Their losses and their wins.

They say we are all different,

yet everyone acts the same.

Each hand has a story,

with chapters of their pain.

Through each tear stained page,

There’s something that connects us all.

It’s the things we’ve been through.

This thing called life that’s in us all.

//our writing mirrors us//

-h.f.

 

Little Faraway Planets

girl-blowing-bubbles-into-planets

Little Faraway Planets

Thoughts,

Crazy things they are.

They can be silent healers,

or sneaky destructors.

Each one holds no weight;

Yet, is the heaviest burden to bear.

Everyone-

So busy with their own perspective,

is not gifted

with knowing someone else’s.

Each person,

Completely buried in their very own thoughts.

Each mind,

is like a faraway planet.

Trying to figure one out,

is like constantly orbiting the sun.

Always close,

but never touching.

Always warm,

yet still so cold.

And you can never get too close,

Without getting burned.

 // actions reflect the thoughts//

-h.f.

pic creds to spacepics.com

Native White Men

Native White Men

Image result for sad mexican man

There once was a man who grew up to soon,

His parents had been broke but nobody knew.

His Hispanic father worked in the streets

His illiterate mother slaved so they had food to eat.

As a boy he learned to hide his lack of wealth,

So he stole nice things to look like everyone else.

He wore nice watches, shoes, and pants,

He completely blended in-at first glance.

Nobody knew he worked at dawn,

Or spent his Saturdays mowing lawns.

And nobody knew he was always hungry,

Even though his belly was always rumbling.

Nobody knew he worked all night,

Or spent his school days getting in fights.

Nobody knew he got food stamps,

Or spent his money on payment plans.

Nobody knew why his grades had been low,

Or why it was college he chose to forego.

Nobody knew why this man pinched pennies,

Or why his credit cards were oh so many.

Then one day he got caught stealing,

And everyone around got a disgusted feeling.

The man cried and tried to explain,

But by then his had been made.

The man cried and told his stories of old,

He told the world of the anger in his soul.

Yet no one believed a word he said,

His false persona was in the land of the dead.

They pointed fingers at how he was mistaken,

They judged him and laughed- he was completely forsaken.

The people pointed their fingers at his mustache,

They pointed and laughed while calling him “Mexican Trash,”

They pointed their fingers at the way his accent showed,

They pointed out how they were so high and he was so low.

And they pointed and laughed until the idea spread around,

That Hispanics were less in a white man’s town.

No one asked the man why he took his great fall,

they all just screamed, “Build a Wall, Build a Wall”

Soon they were all pointing their fingers,

Until racism was more than a light linger.

Everyone’s thoughts began to shift,

Just from a man who decided to shoplift.

The Hispanic man knew this was all from his sin,

He should’ve known better than to try to fit in.

From the beginning he should have smiled and laughed,

And ignored the fact that he was on the wrong path.

He should’ve known better than to play pretend,

For no one can be as good as the Native White Men.

-h.f.

//reflection on how easily we abandon our humanity//

//pic creds to DeviantArt//

Waves

Image result for pictures of the ocean

 I can’t decide if time is speeding up or if it slows,

For the waves of life continuously ebb and flow.

Perhaps everything depends on the moon and the season,

But I’ve fallen in love with every tide against all reason.

The beaten path my bleeding heart has taken

Is surrounded by demons, but my beacon is unshaken.

I keep my faith in what I do not know,

For I weep and shake when I have no hope.

 Alone, I feel for my faith is not always in religion;

Though it is not from myself; I know I’m not the whole picture.

I’m not sure if I believe there’s a God,

but I’d like to think someone loves me, although I’m flawed.

I’m not sure if I believe we were all pre-destined for a higher purpose,

But I’d like to think this life we share is somehow worth it.

Though it’s popular to be self-deprecating and hopeless,

I’d like to think even the most cynical of minds notice

That there’s beauty in every wave of life.

That single thought is my beacon in the night.

Everyone wants to find a belief that connects them with people,

To agree and live harmoniously, I think this wish is feeble.

I believe the only thing we can rely on in this world.

Is that everyone chooses to believe,

in the hope they choose to see.

And what people choose to see,

is what creates the ripples between you and me.

//reflection on the waves of belief that ripple within//

-h.f.

Swing

swinging-skeleton

United States of America,

And the rest of the freaking World too.

.

November 6, 2016

.

Dear, Sex Traffickers

.

You change your mind like a swing,

You move forwards but then regress like it’s nothing .

You compress my heart and let your own mess crush me;

Yet, this pain I feel is such a sudden rush for me.

I’m addicted to the agony,

I know this is the wrong path for me.

But I’m stuck,

And eventually I’ll run out of luck.

.

You swing me forwards into bliss,

Then you laugh as you push me into this abyss

Of whirling emotions.

My head swirls from your precocious ways to send me into oblivion

And you laugh because it’s my pain you relish in.

Yet, I still cling to you like a child on a swing,

Who’s afraid to let go, because the fear of the unknown

is much scarier than dealing with the tears I shed because of you.

.

Why is it that you,

The one who caused all this torture,

Comes out of this completely clean?

While I’m still here left to scream,

from the sadness I let myself feel;

You’ve made me believe time can’t heal me anymore.

.

However you also will never change,

You’ll continue to cling onto every girl unlucky enough to be in your range.

Until your expectations suck everything out of them that once made them feel alive;

And you’ll smile, because to you, they’re your new prize.

.

You’re just a little boy on a swing,

Moving forwards and backwards like life is a small thing.

You only focus on what you want now

and never think twice about how that could possibly hurt the people you’re around.

.

Yet, I’m still stuck,

My life is a train crashing into a truck.

I could easily change direction,

And avoid this entire connection,

If only I could lose my affection,

for skating on the edge of what could be.

Yes.

This is the only thing keeping me from being free.

I’m a bird, but you’ve clipped my wings.

.

My life’s a mess

I’m in a never ending test.

It’s like you’re arresting my mind,

and forcing me into the confines of a cell

for a crime I didn’t commit.

But, I admit,

I should’ve avoided this from the start,

I never should have let you capture my heart.

I stood idly by,

and allowed you to have that kind of power over myself.

.

So in a way,

I suppose I deserve this living Hell.

You always told me that you were the coffin, but I was the nail.

You said it was my fault I fell, into your trap comprised of black mail.

After drinking, you would wail and to no avail you would scream in my face

And say:

Nobody is coming to save you.

That’s a common misconception this world gave you,

Made by people like me who were already wrecked.

.

And I suppose you were right.

Even though you are the train that crashed into the truck.

It was I,

Who was too high on the possibility of what I could be.

I chose to sell myself, so I could escape the poverty that surrounds me.

I wanted to make something of myself so badly

That I didn’t wake up until I was struck in the face with the tragedy of trafficking.

I was the truck that chose to crash into the train, so in reality

It was I who in the end finished me.

.

Sincerely,

Your victims that you’ve subjected to rape, objectification, mental manipulation, and impossible beauty standards.

.

P.S.

You’ve told me this is all my fault for years.

You’ve won.

I finally believe you.

.

//reflection on the most painful thing I can think of//

                             //Dear victims, it’s not your fault//

                                            -h.f