English

I sit here at my computer typing the English homework that is due tomorrow morning. It is midnight, but I am not tired. I want to write about something real and heart wrenching. I want to make you cry by stringing words together into beautiful phrases, I want to make you angry at me for procrastinating, I want to make you envy me for captivating someones attention with my sentences. If only my fingers could effortlessly glide across the keyboard and show you my emotions. I want you to look into my words and see a picture, a movie of which you are the star, and I am merely the director.1

Tonight was Halloween. I plan on coming to school tomorrow with droopy eyes and a handful of explanations as to why I didn't complete my work. I went trick-or-treating for the last time this year, I thought it would be nice for my friends to get out our last little bit of youthful immaturity before we are strapped down and forced to become mature adults. My companions lay sprawled across the couch, littering the ground in deep slumber. There deep breathing soothes me as I try to write the truth, as I try to speak of something, anything that's real. One of them snores, I am not sure which one, but it is a reassuring sound. I am not alone.2

Earlier I stepped outside in my Gothic rendition of a cub scout outfit and the fall air whipped at my fishnet covered legs. My hair fluffed in the breeze, I feel alive and beautiful. The leaves stir as I walk past in my converse all stars, the light giggle of children echos through the wind. I sit on my curb and wait for my com padres to arrive. I lay back and search for the stars. There are none visible, so I wait for the clouds to shift. I think I see a twinkle or two, but it could be my eyes deceiving me. I guess the old saying is true "You see only what you wish to look upon, and hear only that of which you want to listen too."3

We go from house to house, collecting candy, talking and joking between each other. I see a thousand little boys in spider man outfits, each one looking exactly the same, except for the little body placed inside of it. It makes my heart warm for some reason. I don't know why. We return to my house, fingers cold, toes aching. A scary movie is playing on television, so we all sit. I scream in all the right places, but all the while I am thinking of what a great relationship all of my friends have. Veronica, Stephen and Shannon are all on the couch, a big comforter covering all their bodies. They are talking amongst each other, giggling at little jokes spattered out during commercials. Christie and Lexie are on the reclining chair, both smashed together, but completely comfortable and warm. Michelle sits in front of me as I play with her hair. Jacob plays his guitar in the back round. This is what real friends are. We can sit in each others company and never say a word and that's all right. More then all right, its what we all know we need once in a while. Just time to revel in the warmth of each others content souls.4