On my last trip home I  lost my arm, I don’t know why or how.

I missed out on a year of my life

After so much worrying, the police finally released Kevin. He came top the hospital, it was nice to know that I didn’t lose him along with my arm.

I screamed and cried as I explained to the police that Kevin didn’t belong in the hospital. They thought that I was just in shock from what happened to my arm as they tried to understand and figure out how I lost my arm.

“How did you hurt your arm?” they asked.  “Who hurt you?” I was stuck on the words they used: Hurt. They acted as if my arm wasn’t missing. Didn’t they see it was missing.

“It was an accident.” I yelled. “An Accident.”

They started nagging me about Kevin. Their words went in one ear and out the other.

I took a long pause when they finished speaking. I yelled once more “It was an accident, Kevin did not hurt me. Get out and let me see him”

Happy Story:

I stand in a crowd and see nothing but grey figures around me.  Because the only one that matters is you, let's be together forever.

Tragic Story: I stand in a crowd and see nothing but darkness.  I'm alone and I can't find you.  I want you to know, "I miss you"

That's amore:Dean Martin

"When the moon hits you eye like a big pizza pie

That's amore
When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine
That's amore
Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling
And you'll sing "Vita bella"
Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay
Like a gay tarantella

When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool
That's amore
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet
You're in love
When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not
Dreaming signore
Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli
That's amore"

I've been a writer. I started writing when I was 12. They were little poems that followed the AB pattern and rhymed every other line. I never invested the time to develop an advanced vocabulary so the poems consisted of overused words, but they were my poems. They were my thoughts in 12, or 14, or 24 sized font. And I cherished each poem that I started, whether I completed them or not; because they were my poems. They were my thoughts in black, or, blue, or pink ink on white paper. Those poems turned into short stories, which very quickly turned into never- ending stories.   

I am a writer. I haven't written a poem in months; but I work on my novels daily. I've added a few words to my vocabulary, but not many. The stories still seem never ending; written in pure dramatization and ending abruptly. I save any deleted content and value everything. Because these stories or scenes, are my escape into a life that I have created. A life that has been stuffed onto a 13- inch screen, but can never be limited in words, font size, or font color.

But I've never shared anything with anyone outside my comfort zone. It may seem strange my comfort zone includes people that I don't interact with physically on a day- to- day basis. I've shared my creations online or through email. I've sent 100 pages of imagination to people that live in Oklahoma, or Chicago. But when my best friend since 10th grade asks me to send him something, I get nervous. I anticipate judgement. 

I am a writer; I've been a writer. But I want to be a publisher. 


     

I don't think I have much to write really, so this story will be kind of lame. Anyway, I started my Capstone today which is teaching an 8th grade class about medical history. We started with osteology. I was panicking all week because when I went to introduce myself last week I was pathetic and could barely figure out what to say when put on the spot in front of the class. It kind of discouraged me and made me not want to go back, but I felt like I was too deeply committed to be able to back out of it now. 

However, this class went fantastic. Everything literally fell into place and all the students actually seemed interested, even taking notes and yelling at me if I went too fast for them to write. It was insane and awesome at the same time. 

Today was the perfect day! I went to Colgate University, I went shopping, and I ate ice-cream [chocolate and cream] … It was awesome! I got home at around 9:00 pm and I noticed that I’ll have a quiz tomorrow [I haven’t yet study] I have 3 assignments to do. It is crazy! I’m probably going to stay up all night studying for the quiz. Well at least I can say that today was a perfect day [from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m.]

 I shuffled through my iTunes till my favorite song blasted out my ears as Park Bom sang loudly opening lines "YOU AND I TOGETHER IT JUST FEELS SO RIGHT". I turned down the volume and looked at the screen. It was ironic that a person me and my friend were debating about came on my iTunes. I clicked back on to here box she went on aruging.
"You totally look like her"
"I do not she is korean"
"You have the same nose"
"I have my mother's nose"
"Your eyes are the same"
"Eh I doubt it"
-she sent a picture to me-
"See you look the same"
"You seriously think so?"
"Yes"
"Well I dunno..."

After that argument almost a year ago you can say I am convinced that at times we look a tiny bit alike. But not always it is just a bit a those random moments.

Today, for what seemed like the first time in years but had actually only been a few weeks I chilled with my best friend after school. It lasted three hours, and it was wonderful. I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach all day when I hadn't seen her because we had no classes together and I hadn't seen her in the morning because I had gym class downstairs. So, when I finally met her at our locker I got extremely happy and smiled my brightest grin, and then I found out she was going to spend time with me. Needless to say, I was more excited than I have been in a long time because we almost never hang out anymore. So, today was a good day.