Another Day at the Asylum

Another Day at the Asylum

Sanity. A concept most people believe that they understand. I know for a fact that they don’t have a clue. Nobody is completely sane. It’s utterly impossible. Life throws too many curveballs to avoid them. With everything that’s been thrown at me, I’m surprised I’m not in a straight jacket.

Oh wait, I am.

I guess I forgot to mention the part where I am temporarily placed in Sunshine Hills Home for the Mentally Incapable. That’s just a happy name for the nut house. Don’t get me wrong, the place is actually pretty nice. It’s not like American Horror Story: Asylum, if you catch my drift. The walls are nicely painted, and there are no rooms with electroshock therapy. Just a pretty ordinary place. I’m here because of a mental breakdown during Algebra that left me in a vegetative state for two months. They decided I should take some time to chill. Whatever, now I’m not listening to a monotone teacher drone on and on about the quadratic equation.

Life is pretty entertaining when you’re roommates with a schizophrenic teenage guy. I mean, he’s cool most of the time, and he is awesome at impressions, but sometimes it’s a little annoying waking up to a southern pastor shouting HALLELUJAH! It gets old real fast.

The girl on the other end of the hallway is pretty cool, I just wish she would eat her meals. It’s hard seeing someone so kind and heartfelt forcing herself to vomit every night. Anorexia is a serious issue, and lot’s of people don’t take it seriously. Even with her ribs showing, she still thinks she’s overweight. The wonderful thing about her is that even though she can’t see the beauty in herself, she sees beauty in everyone else. I get complimented every day, and I try to compliment her back. It just makes things worse though, It kind of sucks.

Michael is a pretty cool dude. At least, he is when he’s not throwing chairs around the room. Let’s just say he has a bit of a temper. And by a little bit, I mean he is here because he keyed his English teacher’s car because he got a B- on his oral report. He had some words to say as well, words that should not be repeated to your own mother, let alone the principal of the school. When he is not yelling at the workers here, he is comforting Sara, the timid girl with constant anxiety attacks. The only one that can keep her from pulling out her hair is Michael. He knows exactly what to say, and when to say it. She would probably be lost without him. I’ve seen Michael on some pretty good days. Part of me believes he has grown so attached to her, he is purposefully trying to stay here. It’s cute, but not healthy for either of them.

Chris once tried to escape this place. I don’t get why. The food here is actually really good, the workers are kind, and the stress of life doesn’t even exist here. Of course, he is known to be extremely paranoid, so it makes a bit of sense. He thought his hamster was actually a camera set up by the CIA to spy on him. Poor Mr. Fluffins never saw that wall coming. Chris is in the safety room pretty often. He doesn’t trust anybody here, and probably never will. It’s pretty sad honestly.

Well, there’s a quick briefing of the people I share this floor with. I should be getting out of here soon, but the rest of them have a while. I’ve learned never to take my life for granted, seeing as I could be dealing with a lot worse in life. So I had a slight mental breakdown, that shouldn’t take over my entire life, right? Once I get out, I’m going to start focusing on the positive and not the negative. Mental disorders take over someone’s life, and there isn’t a way to just “stop” feeling that way. Maybe if more people understood what went on in these people’s heads, they would spend less time telling them to get over it, and more time trying to help them.

Harmonies and Melodies

Bum, ba bum, ba bum.

Do you hear that?

It’s your personal metronome,

Keeping you in time with the song of life.

It varies throughout the stanzas,

With different time signatures, tempos,

And beats for every measure.

This is life for you.

Nothing is boring in this song.

No repetitions, no catchy hooks.

Everything is a constant adventure.

Sometimes it’s a waltz,

Smooth and slow, with a beautiful melody.

Sometimes it’s an EDM song,

With unrecognizable sounds and beats,

But still melodious in it’s own way.

Life doesn’t have a genre

Or a chord progression.

You can’t press pause whenever you want

And rewind to your favorite part.

You have to bear with the parts that annoy you,

That just aren’t your “type”

It’s a combination of all genres and subgenres.

Roll down your windows and sing along.

Let yourself be enraptured in the beauty of it all.

Because one day, the song fades out,

Leaving the world with one less voice

And one less harmony to be heard.

26 Letters

Words are amazing things

Thoughts created using 26 simple letters,

Yet they can move us in ways we never thought possible.

They can make us smile and laugh,

Or maybe even bring a tear to our eyes.

Death can be painful, or even peaceful.

Life can be beautiful, or maybe dreadful.

Nothing is impossible with those 26 characters.

Let yourself be moved.

Listen to the words begging to escape your head.

Write how you feel,

Tell the world what you think.

Writing is what keeps you alive,

Even after you’re six feet under.

Your words can live on through the pages you write now.

Don’t let your thoughts die with you,

Pass them along.

Didn’t words get you along when everything seemed pointless?

The lyrics to a song,

The lines of a poem,

These words were created by people who feel just like you.

And you can be just like them.

Help future generations through life.

Let them know that people have felt as useless as you once did.

Let them know that it gets better.

You can change the world,

Just by using 26 simple letters.

In Case You Missed the Name...

Good morning all. This post is purely informational, so do not be disappointed. Today, Mr. Honeycutt spoke to the students of BHS, and he told a story of young student who begun publishing using a website with which he was familiar and had used. I wanted to post the website that Mr. Honeycutt mentioned that allows individuals to self-publish. The site is named LULU, and I have provided a link.

As Crusader Chronicles picks up steam, I would hope to at some point discuss the idea of compiling a collection of work that has appeared here. Call me old school, but I still find something special about the feel of book in my hands.

If any of you budding authors have great ideas, or if you choose to explore publishing your own work, share that here. Let your voices be heard, here and beyond.

Teenagers

The bass stops.

As the darkness pause.

Slow vision beginning blurry.

The music so loud, I'm sure you can hear it through the city.

Red, green, blue, pink like a vibrant sea.

Losing feeling in my body, like a manikin piece.

I can't seem to control this feeling.

That this music is giving me.

If I just let go though, my mind will be free.

Fog cover the marble floor, 

Soaring between our feet.

Clouds in the air soon just disappear.

It's a fantasy I've been waiting to live.

Since it's only one that I have.

I can't feel my face, typical teenagers they say.

But this smile is just not fading.

And I'm getting this feeling that it's so right.

Everything seems to be in slow motion.

Forget trying to be sober.

My hands slowly moving to the music,

As you're trying to release the pain.

Grab my hand and join this feeling.

I know you can forget everything like me.

Smiling for hours, no reason for being sour.

I know you can feel my breathing, cause you're breathing like me.

Relaxed like no other and everyone is just sluggish.

We are the brain-washed generation, so get yourself in the "noncompetition".

Let yourself shine, and free your mind.

Cause this is your time.

Perfection

So is there a difference between me and her?
What's so different that makes you love her more?
Long hair with the perfect height.
Does it seem right?
Hugging you all night,
Where that used to be me.
Her perfection seems too perfect.
But you don't seem to notice.
Have I not given you what you wanted?
Everything crashes in my brain.
Like waves against the dark rocks so violently.
On such a big moon, when I do everything to prove.
I have everything to prove, even though you talk about her in your sleep.
Her perfection seems 100 percent better.

Have you not noticed that I'm just as twisted as you?
Your blood is as crazy as mine.
There shouldn't be a reason for you to be like this.
Or maybe the perfection of her kiss seems stronger than mine.
I used to make you fall for me with such a small smile.
Now it takes everything for me to see you even smile.

All this perfection,
Burns in my skin every time I see the love in her.
Did I not do something right to not make you mine?
Cause I'm sure her perfection is just as good as mine.

Sober

You never call me when you're sober
But you seem to know my number
When your sluggish

Wheres that missing touch
That we used to have so much

Soft caress on my cheek
Long nights with crazy lights

But I never hear a word
During the day
No matter what I try to say

Every weekend
I would give you everything
But you take it for granted
When you're the one saying I love you
The most craziest things

I hope you make up your mind
Cause I'm drawing the line
No longer taking you
Until you're sober
I won't be there

Asleep

1, 2, 3 ,4
I wonder what you're here for
Knocking knocking on this 3 am door
Im sleeping in bed
After spending my day terribly sad.

Let me breathe baby
I'm glad you can't see me
I'm falling asleep now

I'm letting you sit on my couch
And then you pull out a pouch
Saying "I love you my beautiful soul"
Please waste away your love with me

Everything is moving so fast
But I manage to fall asleep
Confusion and a delusion
And beautiful combination
Until I wake up
From such a horrible nightmare

1,2,3,4
I notice that you're not knocking at my door
Its 7 am and I'm laying in bed
Wishing to fall back into that dream.

Bridges

There are many bridges

That are all rigid

I no longer drink 

I spend most my time singing

Skin on skin

Burning heat 

But nothing left to see

There's a hole in my heart

That I left just for you 

The one you promised not to break

Even though you did 

You thought it was the greatest bridge

The one I let you cross

Before I burned it down

And there was a flood of sorrow 

That only rained tears

From nothing but ashes and pain

But now I'm regaining my strength

Trying not to regret a single thing

"For a Senior"

It was suggested during class yesterday that perhaps no one wants to "go first" and be the initial submission on CC. Having watched so many people at church potlucks and team dinners wait until one brave soul steps up and goes first, only to be followed by a wave of starving diners, I believe that idea may have merit. So, I will grab a metaphorical plate and serve up the first creative offering on Crusader Chronicles in the hope that many more will follow. This not my best work, and I wrote it about two years ago as part of our Spoken Word unit, but hopefully it gets the ball rolling. 

So, let's see what YOU can do!

“For A Senior”

Jason Kohls

“Why do we have to do this?”

The question echoes, the volume and tone slightly different,

But the sentiment always the same.

It might be grammar,

An essay or reading

Research or revision,

Quadratic equations or governing precepts.

“Why do we have to to do this?”

I ask myself the same thing,

Not because you didn’t get it,

But because you didn’t listen.

“We had this in fourth grade,”

I heard one voice,

Not even trying to hide under his breath

As I explain a simple grammar rule:

“And yet you still don’t understand.”

That could bounce off the walls,

But it won’t,

Even though we want it to,

We -

The kid in front who got it in the fourth grade,

And the boy in the back who caught on in sixth,

And the girl in the hoodie who quit doodling long enough in seventh to deposit the concept in her memory.

I introduced a new poetry unit with my seniors.

Let’s try something new,

Something different,

Something creative.

“Why do we have to do this?”

He mutters as the boy behind him inserts earbuds and listens

To a rapper who attempts to craft images as skillfully

As the ones we will hear in class,

Sometimes dropping verbal bombs that burst through the eardrum and invade the mind,

Sometimes lobbing lines that die in the ear channel like wax needing to be flushed away.

I want to scream,

“We do this so you can listen,

And think,

And write!”

I want to burst out,

“We do this

Because that kid in back,

The one who hands his writing to the teacher because if he reads it out loud you will poke fun,

Is openly engaged,

Because that one in the front who does her homework without prodding

Might find a connection,

Because that little one over there with a notebook full of scribblings, but a gradebook full of zeros,

Needs to be heard once in a while too.”

I want to say,

“We are doing this for the ones who one day might answer your question of

‘Why do I have to do this?’

With “You will do it because it needs to be done,

I am your boss,

So shut up and finish your task so the project can move forward.”   

But I don’t scream.

I don’t raise my voice,

Because the one in the back,

The little one with the notebook,

The girl in the hoodie,

Others scattered about the room

Are already listening, and always have been,

But you never will.

Welcome to the Crusader Chronicles, a Creative Quest of Buhler High School

Buhler High School Literary Blog

This blog is meant to serve as an outlet for those students at Buhler High School who wish to publish creative writing, as well as those who want to read the writing of their peers. Above all else, this is an educational experience, and all material, posts, and comments should serve to enhance and enrich the educational experience of the students.

To post a piece of creative writing on the blog, a work must meet the following requirements:

it must be an original work produced by the student,

it must fall within the bounds of school-appropriate in both content and language,

it must be free of content meant to damage, incite, or intimidate any individual or group,

it must not violate any rules of BHS or USD 313,

it must contain a title and the name of the writer.
Use of a pseudonym is acceptable if the writer has been approved as an author.

We ask that posts be edited and polished work, as this blog is a true form of publication.

Those wishing to post or comment on the BHS Literary Blog must register as a member of the blog and be approved as an author. To become a contributing author to the blog, email Mr. Kohls or Miss Porter at jkohls@usd313.or or kporter@usd313.org. Authors must use their school emails. A parental approval form must be on file prior to posting.

Poetry, short stories, and original artwork are all welcome. Longer pieces can be posted in serial form if the author prefers. Please contact Mr. Kohls or Miss Porter with any questions or concerns.

Crusader Chronicles - A Creative Quest of Buhler High School