Thoughts One Week Before 9th Grade Ends How funny it is. My last post was thoughts one week before 9th grade. Now it's thoughts one week before 9th grade ends. And I haven't been on Opuss in 9 months. It's sad really, that I missed all the magic and adventures on here. How I just stopped going to this magical place, missed all these stories. I do love a good story. And here's one: once upon a time, perhaps 9 months or so, there was this boy. He was to start 9th grade. This boy was really awkward and rather lonely. But somewhere along the journey, he started to change, not fitting in, but adapting. Adapting to the world by looking upon it and understanding. And the people in his class also started to change, open up. From being divided in groups, the lines between these lines became blurred. In the last semester, everyone were with everyone, everyone had laughs with each other. Everyone seemed happy. Even the boy. He had always been this lonely awkward kid, now he just... was. Adapted into a group, going to the parties, being social and along for the ride. Perhaps, he had never been this happy. Maybe he had, but the hard times had blurred the memories of happiness. Or he was just a fool. Or mad. That's probably probable. But we're all mad here. But now, there's just one week left. One week left and the class will divide, lose contact as they go separate paths. Once after years of acting, years of pretending, they had finally opened up. Just being. It's sad really, that they will never see each other again. When the boy is finally happy. When the class ends, will so the happiness fade away? But #life will go on. Next year is high school. A new class, new people. But will the boy go back to how he was before? Or will he keep doing what he does now? Will he keep being happy, adapt to the new situation. Only time will tell. All he knows is, he will miss his old class, and cherish the memories. And remember the lessons he learned along the way. "It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then"

Thoughts One Week Before 9th Year One week left until school start and summer vacation is over. I reliased I haven't done a single thing in the entire summer. No parties, no hanging out, nothing like that. Wow, my #life is boring. I've actually just sat at the house antisocially watching YouTube. And now it's just one week left. Last year in school. 9th grade. Time haven't flown though, it's been horrifyingly long and boring. And filled with #depression. But now I'm getting scared. Real scared. I don't know what will happen after this year. What grades I'll end up with. What school. What job. I just don't know. I have no goals. And actually, I just want to fun, but thinking about this summer, I seriously doubt that will happen. But still, I'm curious. Anything could happen really. I mean, I don't expect to step into a wardrobe and find myself in a magical land with amazing creatures or travel with a madman in a blue box (one can dream), but maybe I'll be a writer? An actor? A micro- biologist? Who knows, the future is full of mysteries. And I'm going to find out.

The 6- Year Old Girls First Day At School The 6- year old girl stepped out of the silver- coloured car. She wore an adorable white dress with flowers in different colours sewed on it. She felt so pretty and she knew that the kids on the school she just was to start in (her first day as a big girl in the big school) were going to love it. Even though she was very nervous about it. All the new children and new faces. But she had her pink backpack with pink and blue pencils, rubbers that smelled in different fruit- smells. She had a purple small book filled with different stickers in shapes of cats, dogs and horses. "Have a splendid first day at school!" her mom said and hugged her daughter. "Oh mother, it'll be great!" she gave her mother a peek on the chin and then rushed of to the gate to the school. Her mother looked at her daughter, who shined with happiness as she went to meet her new classmates and friends. Then she drove off to work with a warmth in her heart that everything turned out well. A teacher stood on the schoolyard shouting for the first- years to gather, so she went up to the group of children surrounding the teacher, a female, elderly woman but with a cheerful smile on her face. "I would like to warmly welcome all of you new faces and hope that you'll have a first day in school full with happiness and making new friends." She then lead them into a yellow building where she then placed them in seats, two and two. The girl got placed next to a boy dressed in jeans, a grey T- shirt and a bowl haircut. The boy stretched out his hand in a handshake, but when she was about to grab it he removed it and stretched out his tounge. She turned around towards the teacher who was talking about being nice to each other. It was the first break they had, and the entire class gathered in a big mass. She walked shyly towards them, and the second she stepped in a six feet range, it was like the entire class turned towards her, stared at her like stupid fish. Then they laughed. All of them. Every single one laughed at her, it was like in a nightmare. And in the middle, there was the boy with the bowl haircut. "Look at her dress! It looks stupid! Where are you from, the 19th century!?" Now the entire class laughed AND said mean things about her dress. Even a girl with red hair and with a pretty much identical dress. The 6- year old girl felt the tears starting to run down her cheeks, and turned around to run to the toilet. She locked the door behind her and took her sit on the toilet seat. She put her head in her palms and felt the tears sipper through her fingers. Why did this happen, why didn't the others like her. They were supposed to like her, complimenting her dress. Was this some kind of crazy school- thing that happened the first day? Would it become better after a while. It didn't. It had been three weeks, and the mean comments continued. The class had the boy as their leader. The boy with his stupid, ugly haircut. Her mother was getting worried, the girl was always so happy and cheerful. She asked her daughter what had happened but got only a silent "nothing". ""It has to be the adjustment to school, it has to be hard in the beginning. She sat at the toilet seat as usual, she always did that on the break. She didn't want to see the other ones. They'd just say mean things. She didn't wear the dress, she had thrown it in the river on her way home that first horrible day in an act of rage. Truth was, she'd rather throw the bowl- haircut boy in the river. Hopefully he couldn't swim. Oh, what was she thinking, anything like that would never happen, she was just a weak girl, and the boy had the entire class on his side. And killing something was just a ridiculous thought. She looked at her pink watched (which had obviously been ridiculed) it was just five minutes left until the lesson started. Five minutes until back into the nightmare. The day had ended and she walked on the road with her little pink backpack. She was happy to be on her way home, a whole night not in school. Suddenly, she couldn't get forward, something held her back. She turned the around to see the bowl- haircut boy holding tight to her backpack, grinning and seven of his friends behind him, all grinning. The boy snatched her backpack. She tried to fling herself over him to get it back, but a chubby boy and a skinny girl grabbed her arms, holding her back. The boy stood beside the river, so he opened the backpack and emptied its content. Pink and blue pencils, rubbers that smelled in different fruit- smells, a purple small book filled with different stickers in shapes of cats, dogs and horses. All went into the water and flushed away. The little girl was crying now, and managed to get get away from the chubby boy and the skinny girl. She threw herself over the bowl- haircut boy, whom lost balance. He fell down with a scream in the river, shouting in panic. "I can't swim, HELP ME!" The other children stood there, staring in horror at what was happening. The boy soon got underwater. And he didn't come up. The other children stared at the girl, like it was her fault. Which it possibly was, but she didn't mean to drown the boy. The chubby, who had hold her back before, rushed forward with a shout and pushed her. It was like she fell in slow motion, her arms desperately trying to get a hold of something. As she hit the water though, everything went so fast, she was instantly pulled down buy her clothes. She couldn't swim, she tried to get up, but only accomplished with getting even deeper down. She thought about her mother, how sad would she be getting to know her daughter was... Gone. The girls mother sat at the table in the kitchen. It was seven pm already, her little girl should be home by now. She almost got a heart- attack when the phone rang. She slowly answered it. "Hello? Hello? Anyone there?" she heard on the other side. "Yes... Yes, I'm here." She listened, and for every word her heart sank, until it reached a bottom and she started to shake and cry uncontrollable. On the funeral there were only some family, like mothers, uncles, a grandma and such. It was simple, she lied in a lovely flower decorated tree- coffin. They sank it into the ground, the girls mother close to losing her mind crying. 6 years old and Six Feet Under.

The Tones From A 7-year Old Boy The 7- year old boy played the violin like it was a monster he had to slay, but instead of blood there were tones. Beautiful tones indeed, but there was something dark behind them. He finished the last tone and looked for an approving smile from his father. But there wasn't, like every other time. "You're doing it wrong, you need more heart in it, you need to mark some of the pauses. It sounds horrible!" They were in a practice room at the International Music School For Children. The boy was to practice every day from 10am to 11pm. It was just 2pm. And his hands ached already from the playing. "I am sorry father, but could I not get a rest?" "No, you have to practice. You have to practice to get better. To become better than all the others." The boy sighed and started to make the melodies again, thinking about the pauses, but still didn't playing with his heart in it. It was about 12pm and he lied in his bed. He was to sleep for a couple of hours to then get up and play again. But, he thought to himself, it was to much, his father pressed him all the time. He wasn't a machine. The next day went past like every other. Until when he was to end for the day his father told him to continue. "Bur father, I need some sleep." "You can sleep when you're better. I'm going to take a coffe, you keep playing." The father left the room and left the boy alone in the practice room. His grip hardened around the violin. His father was so unfair, always making him practice. He pushed him way to far. Now he couldn't even sleep?! The boy looked at the violin. He smiled a weird and disturbed smile. He had an idea. A fatal idea, but it would work. He attached one of the strings, a thin but rather sharp. He made a knot around a small pole with one end and then he grabbed the other end. He screamed of pain and bit holes in his lips. He cried and sobbed but kept doing it. He wasn't to practice anymore. You can't practice without fingers. And he didn't have any fingers anymore.

The Hope Of The Future Keep On Going Sometimes everything can feel worthless, like you're a lesser being and doesn't belong in this world. And you may even think about ending it all. But that would just be a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Things will change, but you may have to wait. Maybe for years. But eventually it will. You will meet new people, new situations. Anything can happen. But if you're not there you can't find out. So keep on, be strong. Find what the future has to bring!