Are These Roman Numerals?

Children are born for the summertime. School was created for the summertime. The sun was born for the summertime. Tell me then why our summertime was covered in stormclouds and power outages? Why was our stretch of laughter and smiles and friendship ruined by jealousy and betrayal? Are you able to explain why you left with the thunder and darkness? I cannot blame you for leaving. This town never was your taste, but what about the girl you loved? What about the girl in the red polka dot dress? What should I tell her while she cries when the power goes out? What should I lie to her about?

- - -

There's a lot to explain. There's a lot to tell. There's a lot to bury. I was chatting with my shadow early this evening, and we came to the conclusion that despite doing so much this summer, we still felt abandoned. I'm not so surprised actually. Afterall, a lot of promises were thrown into the street.

- - -

As cliche as it sounds, some important things have happened this summer. I reunited with old allies, made new enemies, grew away from my "best friend," crushed on someone for about a day, and hated sound boy for something he can't control. (I feel bad. I should apologize.) I still feel like throwing up when I hear the word "beautiful," and I missed my friends more than my father. I realized what I want to do with my life, but I know I'm not smart enough to do it, so I'll just cope with something less special. I know who to confide in, and he confides in me. It's a beautiful friendship; I'll cry when he leaves for the west coast.

- - -

I haven't photographed anything in far too long. My eyes are getting blurred, and my fingers are cracking like they're breaking. The wires in my head are curling around an old idea and giving it new insight. I feel like this might work. As much as I would love to work with someone prettier, a self-portrait will have to work. I need to do laundry then.

Even If We Stop, Someone Else Will Always Be Counting

It was like a circus: all of the people in facepaint and feathered boas wrapped around their throats like constrictors. The flashing lights in a rainbow of colors made me dizzy as if on a carousel, and I could feel my heart throbbing behind the cords in my throat. Oh, how it wanted to leap from my lips and dance with the women in suits and men in gowns. My dizzying legs dropped me before a man in a top hat with white doves as gloves who pulled me to my feet and pushed off the tightrope. There was no net.

- - -

ah-ha-ha. Little sound boy has been cured of his disease, and it will only be a matter of time before he's on his roof again, screaming for the clouds to speak to him again. He will scream of how sorry he is and how badly his ears ring at the need to hear the clouds sing to them once more. The girl in the polka dot dress will ask sound boy, "Just once more? That will never suit you." So he'll record the singing and listen to the playback every night before falling asleep on the shingles. Then the girl in the polka dot dress will steal the recorder and listen to the playback.

- - -

But all she will hear is the wind and sound boy's breathing.

- - -

Oh, how badly I want to leave this place for somewhere with sun and wind and people who love each other even if our parents were horrible to each other because we aren't our parents, and all we want is to love and be loved because we've all grown up with hate on our backs and words of defense in our mouths, but that's not us just because it is everyone else because because because we aren't everyone else.

- - -

That's all I've got in my heart and head. I just hope it's enough.