I’m going into high school in August. At the end of the year, students from my class desperately wanted to go to high school. They wanted a change. Three years of middle school, here’s your consolation prize, kids: four years of high school. Happy, happy day. And it was. Because for once, I was running with the herd. I couldn’t wait to be a mature freshman. Now, i’m having nightmares about forgetting the Pythagorean theorem. Not cool. I’m afraid. Afraid that I’ll get lost, that I won’t keep up with my classes, that the teachers will hate me. I’m afraid.

I look back on my blog, which was started more than a year ago, and everything seems recent. I feel like my life is rushing by me, things are changing and I am never going to catch up. I will never be this young again. Soon, I’ll be getting a job, parading for colleges, and being an all “A” student just isn’t going to cut it. I’m going have to change for high school: change how I act, change how I spend my time, change my gym uniform. I never used to see the world this way, as a conundrum of what has changed and what was going to. I’ve never been so confused over how to proceed. I just relied on my parents to make sure I had everything I needed. But I’m turning fifteen in October and the time to be needy and childish is trickling to an end. It’s time for a change.

I used to be great friends with my sister. Now, we argue more often than have fun. I didn’t notice it happening. I didn’t notice things changing. And I know I sound like a girl who didn’t know her boyfriend would break up with her, but I never saw it coming, and now I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t go out and find a new sister after crying on my friends shoulders. I don’t always like change. I don’t always want it. Denise says: “If you don’t like how something is going in your life, change it.” When I asked: “What about the things you can’t change?” She told me: “Wait until you can”. I can change things between my sister and me, I know I can. But I was stupid. Because I never asked Denise: “What if I don’t know how?”

I have a cockatiel. A lovely pearl cockatiel with gray and white and yellow feathers. I am ashamed to say, I don’t spend a lot of time with him. I suck as a pet owner. Lyra is going to live for thirty years. I think it’s time that I change my ways.

I bet you all are wondering why I’m writing all this. My blog, for months now has been composed of Six Word Sundays, and when I was feeling really creative, a Six word Monday, or even *gasp* a Six word Sunday (Belated). Exciting. So, this is for all the empty words, empty weeks, empty posts. I don’t want to be a burnt out blogger and I’m not going to  let my laziness keep me from succeeding.

It’s time for a change.

A change that will work for me.

A change that will be un-debatably for the better.

My change is starting with this post.

This is my 645 word Wednesday.

My Metaphor

I was dreaming

I went to the knitting closet

and opened it

to find my nest

of yarn balls

bright eggs

neat

perfect

Every one

But, thats not true

One stands out

Different

In a bad way

filled with

thorns

twists

tangles

I pull the ends

work loose the thorns

unravel the knots

until my fingers bleed and ache

It’s no use.

It won’t be flat

It won’t be like the rest

It will always be different

In a bad way.

They say dreams

are reflections

of what you feel

or what bothers you

They represent things.

The tangled yarn?

I think it’s me.

See? What did I tell you? Poetry just isn’t something I can do. Not well, at least. Thank goodness we never got around to the project.