izzy3301

isabelle, you are nothing but an injured bird, losing your way in a world of uncertainties. your wings have been clipped, by their ignorant words (not good enough, not good enough) and you’re grounded: stuck. unable to rise to the light of the sun – instead you’re alone below, drowning in the droplets of their adamant rain. not good enough, they whisper once again, not good enough…

There once was a boy, there once was a girl. He loved the girl dearly, and the boy was her world. The boy was kind, and would be there to stay, but the girl was broken. She yearned to fly away. The boy wouldn't let go, he was determined to fix her, but there was no secret, no miracle cure. She simply had to go, set herself free. This was the answer, the only true key. He wouldn't give up, so she had to shove. It was all in good interest, all because of love. But the boy was so patient, so determined and kind, he wouldn't give up. She made up her mind. There would be one last push, one last try before she had to give up, let herself die.

 When was the last time The beauty of white fell down And the sky was filled with joy? 'til it melts away Nature's wonder and marvel Takes your breath away.

Roses are red, Violets are blue, I don't know why, But I think I love you. The sun shines bright, The moon glows too, I have one reason to live, And that reason is you. The grass is shiny, With morning dew, I lay looking up, Thinking of you. And so I come, To the end of my poem, Please be mine, For my heart to have a home.

That Boy Fan Fiction by JokerAgentChaos on deviantart.com Eighth grade. Oh boy, let me tell ya! It's a nightmare for the nerds and little kids who haven't gone through puberty, but heaven for the popular kids, the punks, the bullies, the hot girls. There were many classifications in middle school that a kid can slip into. For girls, you were either a sweet, nice girl who got good grades, or a hottie; a snob. The one with all the popular kids. It was tough being in this top category. The category I'm in. Anyway back to my rambling! Let's see, now for guys… there's the "Nerds", of course. Computer geeks, smarty's, you know… the

I never took part in that gossip. I never called him anything mean. All my friends, my big group of popular kids, talked about him. Not me. I changed the subject, or distracted myself. My schedule: First period was English, which I had perfect grades in. The boy sat in the back, on the other side of the room from me, alone and silent. Second period was Math. He was in the front corner, again across the room from me. I tried to keep my grades high in Algebra, but I admit; it was hard! Third period was Computer Tech. We did essays on Microsoft Word, and graphs on Excel. When our assignments were done, we could go online and play games or su

I told Travis to stop bugging me. Travis laughed and said: "It wasn't me-- I swear! It was him!" He pointed to the boy next to him, the boy with the purple hood, the boy who never spoke, and the boy who everyone gossiped about. Travis wanted to have fun teasing both of us! The boy ignored us, as always. I muttered, "Shut up and leave me alone." to Travis. He didn't shut up. "Hey emo, why you picking on my girl?" He teased. My blood flared like someone threw a match in a trail of oil. Was Travis acting like I was his girlfriend!?! "Hey emo, you know how to talk?" Travis turned his body away from me and stared at the boy. I felt angry and

Sixth period was Gymnastics, my favorite class, which I topped the whole school in! I usually exceeded my friends incredibly, but today I didn't focus very well. I felt a lot of things at once, and I couldn't get away from my crowd of friends. As we waited our turn for the jumping board, they whispered to me. "What happened? What did Travis do? What did the boy say?" They kept asking me these things I didn't want to answer! Finally the period was over! I had never wished for gymnastics to be over quickly. Today I did. Surviving the stampeding hallways, I made it unharmed to seventh period. History. This was the last class of the day. I wa

I laid my papers on my desk and wrote my name at the top, ready to take history notes. I froze when he spoke. "Harleen…?" He was looking at my paper. I took too long to answer back. "Yeah, I uh…. I actually like Harley better….but people call me both." He didn't say anything else. I kept my eyes on my paper, on my penciled name in my neat handwriting. Harleen Quinzel. What a stupid name! How embarrassing! One minute until class started. More kids were coming in, the class was almost full. I wanted to talk to him more, but I didn't at the same time. I was afraid I would look stupid. But he had never talked to anyone before.

The next day was the same. Talk about the emo boy, who had an outburst yesterday at Travis. Teenage drama, the usual. The boy was silent, as always. He was in the morning classes, but not in fifth period. He probably got checked out. The whole rest of the day, I didn't see him. He wasn't in history, and his seat cast an unusual emptiness. After school, I grabbed my coat from my locker and walked home. My route home was easy and lasted fifteen minutes. My friends pitied me and offered rides home. I told them it wasn't far to walk. My route home: From the school, I walked to the bridge that overpassed the highway. From there I walked along