#was gonna post something stupid (again) like 'getting out if my loner era' or something but

[naenaex0xx]

I always have to wonder why I never feel unhappy until I think about my unhappy

[halfblood-fiend]

My First Words- The Cringe Poetry Era

Because of thesecondsealwrite’s amazing posts about her past writing, and her second Tumblr anniversary celebration, I decided to join in on the fun. I will impart on you some of my first words over the course of these 10 days and you can see the completely awful and totally terrible journey to becoming the writer I am today.

Now, I am notorious for keeping everything ever and that is doubly so for my stories. The problem, though? This time last year my family was supposed to have moved and apparently I was the only one who got the memo. So all my stuff is packed away and locked in storage. So I’m pretty sure that’s where all the old stuff is, I’m talkin’ the shameless self-inserts, the copious Mary-Sues, the cringiest of cringe poetry, the erotic to a 13-year-old Halo/Eragon/Chronicles of Riddick/Harry Potter crossovers, and the literal mountains of fanfiction about Snape, sometimes with students (yes...I am very guilty of that, hang me please).

However, I did manage to scrounge up some stuff from a journal that didn’t get packed because it’s still a quarter blank and, for some reason, I seem to always intend to keep diaries the way I used to back in my middle school/early high school days.

I deliberated for a while about how to post them. I wondered if I should post scans or if I should write my own modern commentary all over said scans but I settled for simply typing them exactly as they are, sloppy grammar and shitty spelling intact. If anyone wants to see the scans, I will post them because you really miss out on a whole hot mess of awful doodles and chicken scratches as well as the worst formatting bs you’ve ever seen (probably).

So, I placed it under a read more because I don’t think anyone wants a whiny 12-year-old on their dash, but the following is me, and my very 12-year-old problems, totally unedited.

Bullshit

Why should I care? Give me a reason and I might stay. Stay friends? Ha! Don't you remember? It was you who dumpped me. So why are you asking my forgivnes? It should be me, shouldn't it? But stop, listen. Do you hear me begging? No. Because I'm fed up. Tired of the bullshit. Sick of the same Goddamned scene. Aquatences, pehaps. But never again friends.

You’re smoking something if you thought I wasn’t gonna have commentary on this shit...

Okay so, god awful spelling, worse content. Yet SOMEHOW I remember that nearly every single poem I wrote around this time period was about/related to/because of boys. Gotta love those middle school hormones. I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry but, it get’s better...

Lonley Valentine

Another Valentine's day Come and gone. Yet another hopeless year. I've never had a Valentine. Never in my life. Unless you count my parents; this thought gives me much strife. I've only five boyfriends And they never last too long. Theres always someone else they like more because apparenly I'm wrong. Most people would label me a loner. to whitch I'm pretty sure they're right. 'Cause I've never had a Valentine and I suck it up with all my might I hear that people say that to love another one must first love themelves. This is what I say to them, "Shut up you mother fucker!"

"Shut up you mother fucker!” Aaaaaand she sticks the landing!

Look my least favorite part about this trainwreck is the very forced lines and hence rhyming? Other than that, I hate all of it. I also just LOVE how 12-year-old Madison thought life revolved around Valentine’s Day and like...having somebody. I guess that even modern Madison feels that way since most of my content is thinly veiled romance. I guess some things never change.

I’d also like to adress that “only five boyfriends” part because it sticks out in my mind... I’m pretty sure that at this middle school age, I’m even counting those “relationships” that were like, “Joey held my hand one time at recess” or something because I can tell you right now FIVE is...not true? Not even remotely accurate? I also love the “ONLY five boyfriends” part as if it was some kind of competition and even with five I was losing... badly, as my beautiful poem illustrates.

Untitled

Help me out. Out of my never ending pit. Help me someone. I'm falling to abiss; please someone.   What does it matter? Like the useless raindrops that patter I'm no longer there. No longer where?   People ignore me falling to black. Help me please Throw me a rope, lend me a hand   I realize theres no turning back, Nothing but black. I'm falling to oblivion, no longer real I wish I was as invisible as you make me feel   Falling faster. No way back, only down. No one to pull me up Just falling; just nothingness.   When I snag on a branch, it breaks Then falling again faster, faster.   Lonesome death only. Nobody. No turning back. Just fading to black.

Now, I did NOT read the journal entry that “went” with this poem because my brain literally could not handle it, so I don’t know what context all this blackness is in. Pretty sure it’s just a metaphor for my life, or, judging by previous content, I had a crush on some dude that looked at me for a whole five seconds one time in science class and then it turned out that he didn’t like like me.

ALSO! WARNING! Past Madison did this awful thing where she liked to incorporate her favorite lyrics into her own poetry and give no credit whatsoever. In fact, sometimes she even claimed they were hers. She just...took em. I honestly couldn’t tell you why. I die a little every time I see that shit. So, if you didn’t catch it, the line “I wish I was as invisible as you make me feel” belongs to Fall Out Boy and their song The Pros and Cons of Breathing. Thanks guys, tell your writers they did well capturing the spirit middle school angst.

You know...in that packed box of papers there is an entire typed, printed, and bound copy of every poem I ever wrote in middle school. I titled it “Emo Chronicles” and actually turned that shit in for a school project and got compliments AND a grade for it (Yikes!!). And I’m sorta glad that all I could find were these three poems for two reasons A) I don’t think I could have handled reading an entire volume of this type of thing and B) I would have probably picked out the ones I was still sorta proud of, so here you go. There is no bias here, whatsoever.

I just wish I could go back in time and give this poor confused girl a cookie and a hug. Maybe not the cookie, actually, because this sad girl was constantly destroyed by her mother over her weight with merciless precision. Still, she could use a hug and I would tell her, “Boys are stupid and are a huge waste of time, bro.” Then I’d walk into the sunset. And then this girl would go home and write some poetry about it. She’d probably think it was very deep and existential.

I actually continued to write poetry well into high school but it petered off around my Junior year and I haven’t touched it since. Honestly, because of all this mess, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I know that all this crap is a literal skeleton in my closet and I almost feel like I never want to open that door ever again.

So if you read this far, THANK YOU for not unfollowing and blocking me instantly! Lmao. Yeah, it’s bad, but the only way to get good is to slog through some utter shit and I really think that this era of my writing career is my utter shit (yes, I even believe that insane crossover is better than this).