First Grade This isn't much of a writing piece, just a little memory I've been thinking a lot about lately... Anyways, here goes. Max and I were best friends, always sitting together on the bus, chasing each other in tag at recess, bouncing on the trampoline in his backyard. One day, the fourth graders in the near back of the bus decided to pick on us that day. And so they began to chant; "Max and Alliyah, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" And so on, and on, and on. See, I wasn't the bravest first grader, and I definitely wasn't going to stand up for myself to a group of ten year olds, no way. Our faces were bright red, as Max kept shouting, "Shut up! Stop it!" As soon as the bus screeched to our stop, I ran down the aisle, bawling, as Max followed, asking, "Are you okay?" In such a sweet way that only seven year old boys can manage Without replying, I ran off the bus towards my house which was nearby. My parents were standing on the porch wondering why in the world I was in such a state. Max,being a really sweet kid, so he ran after me to my house yelling for me to slow down, "Wait!" But I, being the fastest runner in our grade at the time (he'd pass me up in the second grade) outran him all the way home. As my parents were trying to cheer me up, I saw Max at the cul de sac, waiting for me to go over to play like we always used to. I went inside. That evening, the doorbell rang. My mother called out for me to get it. There in the doorway, stood Max, with an indignant look on his face. "Hi," I mumbled. "I just want to tell you I'm going to beat the fourth grade kids up." "Tyler and them?" "Yeah!" At this point, both of us were smiling. "I have to go," I lied. "Oh," His face fell. "We can play tomorrow, right?" "Right," I replied, shifting from one foot to the other. "Bye!" He waved as he walked back to his house. --- It was the worst crime to a first grader, to be in the kissing song. But now, Max and I don't talk much anymore. We've grown up, but why does it feel like the opposite? He never really did beat up Tyler and them, but I'm still waiting for the day he does.
YOU You hate them. You love them. They are your biggest supporters, Your biggest haters. They inspire you, They crush you with venomous thoughts. At times their hatred will eat you from the inside out, But their pride will outshine it once again. They are always with you, Even when it seems as if you've lost them. Without them, who are you? Nobody. Who is 'they', exactly? You.
Plagued Jealousy consumes me. Every time I think about you, See you, Hear you. You. Me. Compared over and over and over, seemingly unfair. Deep down I know it's ridiculous, to feel this way. I disregard this, though. My mouth set in a straight line and my eyes emotionless. If only you could see the emotion behind those eyes! My stomach churns and my mind reels, My heart faltering, my mind raging. I am not green with envy. No, I am plagued with it.