calculus ate my crayons

I want to skip work in the future so I took calculus.
At least, that's what I tell myself.
Because high school is hard but "college is harder"
and all I want is to fit in, get good grades, and move on.

when we were little, no body really cared about fitting in,
although we did want to skip as much work as we could,
an A student could be friends with a kid who barely came, and not care.
there was no such thing as a clique in kindergarten.

But now my over achieving brain has been hard wired
to follow the made up social rules that Nohbody made up.
I have to type my assignments now which takes twice as long.

No. Not anymore. I want my crayons and markers.
I want to be able to mark on a page without taking notes
I want to be able to color and not have to turn it in.
And I want to color outside the lines.
I want to go back to kindergarten.

Scratch that. I want preschool.
Home-schooled preschool.
Where my sister taught me to read
and I learned the color red
when I fell out of her wheelbarrow
and scraped my knee.

But even though I promised my mom I wouldn't

I grew up.

I wish I could've kept that promise.
Maybe if I had colored just a bit more
refused to let go of my crayons when the teacher said so
Maybe then, just maybe, I wouldn't have grown up.

But I did.

I think fifth grade is the last year I brought class school supplies.
and I remember that crayons weren't on the list.
That's also when the cliques started.
Fifth grade changed everything.

our teachers said no more crayons,
it's time for math now. and foolishly

so foolishly

we listened.

I want to go back.
Back before I had to fit in.
Back before math became important.
Back before I lost my self in the sameness of school.
Back before calculus ate my crayons.

Back before spelling mattered and
back to when I could turn in my assignments
in a color other than blue or black ink.
No Times New Roman, 1.5 margin, MLA format.
Three different colors of crayons.
Sentences about nothing that meant everything.

I want my crayons and I want my childhood.
But the adults ate them.

Kollossel: Vocabulary

This will be updated with each chapter (no sneak peeks) hope this helps

• Acklells (ack-lulls) - stars
• Blakm Forest (block-mm) - a forest of walking trees with black bark and muddy green leaves.
• Cantava (can-toe-va) - feared Mopi outcasts
• Knocks - wind measurement; each knock is equivalent to 5 mph
• Kollossel (coal-lo-sell) - the name of the planet the Mopi live on
• Mopi (moo-pie) - Koni's species
• Napi - grandmother on maternal side
• Sensory Stands - Mopi equivalent of hair. About the thickness of dreadlocks, sensory strand help take in the surroundings. Similar to whiskers in function.
• Ticks - temperature measurement; each tick is about 10 degrees Fahrenheit

The boy with the Bricks

I want to get some bricks and build a house with you.
When we grow old together inside, we will build memories that last.
When we get tired of the view, we can fly it to the moon.
You'll heal my broken heart and remove the cast.
And maybe if I am lucky I'll be able to heal yours too.

I want to take these bricks and throw them, they aren't special now that you've left.
Instead of removing the cast on my heart, you laughed, and added another layer.
Now that I'm home alone, I put on some white noise so I don't feel bereft.
Whatever, these legos are more fun to throw at you, you...you..you player!
That's just what I tell myself hoping the pain will seal my heart cleft.

I wanted to build a house with you and fly it to the moon.
You told me those dreams were for little kids,
That you were a grown up without dreams now too.
And our fourth grade romance was gone when I opened my eyelids.
My imaginary bricks didn't stand a chance to a summer sky of blue.

But then I looked up and there you were, eyes full of tricks,
A little older now, a little wiser, with an armful of bricks.


.

Kollossel: Chapter One

     My feet just might fall off. I have been standing here forever! Literally. Okay, well, maybe not literally, but 16 hours feels like forever. This line is endless. How am I supposed to get to the front before the next sundown if I cannot even see the end that I was standing at, or the beginning where I want to be? Actually, I'm pretty sure that the line only got longer because people got here after me, and I haven't actually moved at all. My mom says that we have moved five feet in the last 30 minutes but it's hard to believe her. 
     On top of all of this, the weather is punishing. This morning it was 100 ticks with the wind blowing at 50 knocks, which makes the sensory strands on my head blow everywhere, and now its -40 ticks and the fog is rolling in like a wall, soon I won't be able to see at all. My weather adaptive clothing is not shifting as well after going through 20 shifts while I've been in line. 
     Luckily it's almost time to go to sleep. After standing here for four hours, the next two will seem short. Hopefully. I never knew that our short 6 hours of sunlight could feel so long, or that our 6 hours of rest could feel so short. I've always felt that they were the same length, twelve hour days split in equal halves. But then again, nothing on Kollossel is as it seems. 

......

     As kids on Kollossel everything seems to fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. As we grow up, about a third of the way through our lives, we start to realize the little things that are off in the world. The first thing I noticed was that they taught us what the color red should look like, but there wasn't anything red anywhere. I looked. The next thing I noticed was that there were no birds. Or royal family. My teachers were telling the class about a beautiful parade in which we would be able to see the royal family. After hearing this every year, and every year being disappointed when I would be told an excuse as to why it wouldn't happen, I began to think there wasn't a royal family at all. And I was right. That's why I'm standing in line with all the other 12th cycle students and a parent of their choice. I'm waiting to be told why. And I'm starting to think that even this is something wrong. because that tree moved five feet, not me. My foot has been crushing the same oroboro flower since I got here. 

......

     "Koni, we're moving up again!" Every parent in line says something just like this to their own child. And just like me, every other kid in line looks down at their un-moving feet, and then back at the trees to watch them move past. In my eyes, my mom looks ridiculous, with her four marching tentapods, as she pretends to move in line and yet move nowhere. How is she blind to all of this? 

     When I first started noticing that things didn't quite line up, my mom told me that she went through the same thing at my age. She told me that she would wait with me in line, and that when we got to the end together, she would be able to explain everything. That I would finally see the birds, and the color red, and the royal family. Now as I stand here in line, I'm getting more and more hesitant. Not only because this could be just one more thing wrong on Kollossel, but also because, what if how my napi explained everything to my mom won't work for me? What then? Will I become a Cantava? I do not want to be a Cantava. 

......

     When my friend Classi told me about the Cantava, I thought he was messing with me. Then my parents told me that they were real. The rejects who live in the wastes and roam the blakm forest. Growing extra eyes, because five isn't enough for them apparently, and a tail. It is said that the Cantava need them to be able to survive in the wastes and forests. I wouldn't mind having a tail so much, but I really do want to see the color red. I want to hear a bird sing and see the Klarapa family that supposedly rules over our planet. 

     If I ever told my mom my inner musings, she would tell me the same thing she always does, that I need to trust in the system and that in all due time the acklells will align and I will know. What I want to see most though, is if there is a red moon hanging in the sky among the acklells that I've never seen because I can't see the color red. I can see the blue, green, lavender, and black moons just fine, so what if there is a red one? 

     I guess I have till sundown tomorrow to make it to the front of the line and find out. Hopefully, then my mom will tell me. 

Falling

Falling is scary.
That stomach turning, brain scrambling feeling of dropping that wake you up in the middle of the night and makes you feel like you've just dropped off the ceiling.
That's scary.
But that's not the kind of falling talking about.

Not the: I'm jumping off a cliff into a lake and I'm terrified but having a whole lot of fun at the same time kind of falling.

And not the: I just said something wrong and I'm falling into a whole that I'm going to be climbing out of for a while kind of falling either.

Nope.

I'm talking about the kind of falling that requires someone there to catch you.
The kind of falling where only one person can catch you,
Because, if they don't, you are in danger of hogging the couch with some ice cream and Netflix hoping that the next time, if there is one, you wont be dropped.

I'm talking about the kind of falling that makes everyone wonder if there is something wrong with them that makes them so hard to catch.

I'm talking about the falling that can feel like the greatest thing in the world.
No,scratch that, the universe!

But the worst at the same time.

This ins't the wake you up from a nightmare feeling like you dropped from the roof, or cliff jumping, or social stumbling kind of falling.

This kind of falling is rare and beautiful and terrifying beyond belief.
It makes you laugh and cry and scream and then laugh some more.
It's the kind of falling that everyone longs for.

Because really, what is love but one big fall.

No Words

I'm lacking in inspiration.

I'm not sure what to write.

I want to make a statement,

Say something powerful!

But I haven't yet and 

Therein lies my frustration.

There are no words.

Nothing is coming.

Zip.

Zero.

Zilch.

Well yes, smarty pants, those are words.

But don't you see? I have major writers block!

I can't write about how world hunger makes me sick,

I can't write about how racism boils my blood.

I can't write about how I stopped watching the news because every time I did, all I saw was the hate and anger and suffering of the world, and I am trying to find the wonderful in it all.

I can't write about how frustrating the world is with all of it's big issues caused by grown ups who like to tell us kids that its our job to grow up and fix everything so they can retire comfy.

I can't write about how different the world would be if everyone just shared like in kindergarten where we all had crayons and paper and everyone was our friend.

I can't write about any of the big issues because my writers  block is so bad that I couldn't even write about how frustrating auto-correct is! 

I have no words for all of the things going on inside my head. 

No words for the ideas that might somehow be able to fix something.

No words.

None.

My Knight

Because I fell and tripped again, he kindly stopped for me.

Extended a helping hand, and brought me to my feet. 

We walked slowly, he knew no haste, to my next class we went. 

He was tardy just for me,

He's imaginary.

Hats

I don't want to stand out from the mindless crowd of peers.
I'm wearing this hat to hide my thoughts from them.

I keep dancing my way through life, hoping to hide.
But nothing hides me better than this hat.

Boom boom clap! The song reflects my heartbeat,
and I can't hide anymore because somewhere along this dance, I dropped my hat.

Everyone can see me now, sitting on this desk,
so I stare out the window at the snow, and pretend I don't care.

Now that I'm not hiding,
I find it's harder to just sit and observe because everyone can see me now.

And I find my self standing at a podium delivering words that everyone else discovered,
words that I'm realizing have been here all along.

I was just to busy hiding under this hat. I'm still not used to not hiding.
Maybe it's time to make some friends who actually know me.

Not just my hats.