As I am slowley putting my portfolio together, I'm realizing more and more how much I've grown as a writer to this class. Now, I express myself more freely in poems and in my stories, there are some hidden meanings. I'm very proud at where I've gotten and I hope to keep growing as a person and a writer

I decided to do my 3rd short story on symbolism. It's about a guy driving in a car and that's it. It's about the things around him, the way he's feeling and it's like a metaphore to life. It is very good, but I can't tell you any of it because you have to read the whole thing at once.

My best friend when I was 7 years old was Abby Zweep. She was my next door neighbor and during the summer we spent every day together and we would play house and ride bikes and had a good time. I didn't have any enimies at that time. When I was 10 years old my best friend was Rachel Sebring. She and I did everything together. We had sleepovers, did make-up and played house. It was a great time. But she moved away when I was in 7th grade, but we remained best friends until my senior year in high school. I didn't have a worse enemy at this age, but there were a lot of people I didn't like. When I was 16 my best friend was Jami Kohlmeyer and she still is. We have a great time together and things are perfect. My worst enemy was Becca Bohmen. She tried to steal my boyfriend all the time. I don't have a worse enemy now, but let me tell you, there's quite a few people who I dislike very much

I've been working on my story and I'm almost done, it is really good. I threw out the 2nd person point of view story. I couldn't do it. I decided to stick with my love story. It worked out good and it will be a good story

The story I'm using at the moment is a working progress. I'm trying to make a story about 2 people in love, who don't end up together, like romeo and juliet crossed with city of angels. I don't quite know what the resolution will be like, but here's part of it.

His hand burned as it ran down her fiery body.
"I love you, Ryan" Tara spoke softly as she sweetly
touched his lips knowing that she would never feel
this way again.

After talking about making a story in 2nd person point of view, I decided that was something I wanted to try. But after following the directions on the sheet and looking at the examples and reading the book, I still couldn't do it right. I'm working on it right now and if it gets done ok, I might turn it in as my last story.

This class has taught me a lot about writing. Before this class, I wrote poems, but that was about it. I had tried to write stories, but they never came out very well. But after this class and reading everything that I've learned so far, my story writing has gotten better and it makes me very happy. I hope that I will keep excelling until I can write a real story. That is my goal.

I'm working on my 3rd story and I have a feeling this one is going to be even worse. I'm trying to find a plot that is really good, but I always jump around and it never makes sense. I'm thinking about making my next story about a boy and a girl dating and relationship problems may be. I'm not sure, but at this point, I'm very frusterated.

I'm working on my 3rd story and I have a feeling this one is going to be even worse. I'm trying to find a plot that is really good, but I always jump around and it never makes sense. I'm thinking about making my next story about a boy and a girl dating and relationship problems may be. I'm not sure, but at this point, I'm very frusterated.

I'm working on my 3rd story and I have a feeling this one is going to be even worse. I'm trying to find a plot that is really good, but I always jump around and it never makes sense. I'm thinking about making my next story about a boy and a girl dating and relationship problems may be. I'm not sure, but at this point, I'm very frusterated.

Around March of last year I was dating this guy for about 4 months and everything was going fine. We had plans for summer and everything, but one day out of the blue he called me up and told me he didn't love me anymore. That hurt so bad. For the next 2 weeks I didn't eat, I didn't go to my classes, I rarely slept. I just layed in bed and did nothing. I thought I was going to die. I felt so alone with no hope. But as the days went by I got better and I still get very depressed quite often, but I just try to look at the good things in life.

This is the start of the story I think I might use:

Johnny slowly opened his eyes and had no idea where he was. He had completely forgot those 10 shots of Vodka he took last night. He turned his head to the left and saw a very small, homely girl laying next to him.
"Who the Hell is this girl?" He thought to himself proversely
He had no idea who she was, what had happened, and what they had done.

I think I'm going to go with that

I've been working on my 2nd short story for about a week and tonight, I started it over for the 4th time. The first story was really easy and now I can't seem to think of anything good. It is very frusterating. That is why I love poetry. With poetry, I can just write and not have to worry about screwing up and having no idea what to write, because when it comes to poems I just pour my heart out and I never go blank of have writers block with poetry, but I can't seem to find any good subjects for this short story. I hope I can come up with one....SOOON!!!!!!!

My sense of touch was totally changed when I met my boyfriend Bryan. The first time he kissed me, my entire body went numb. All I could feel was peace, sensation and a lot of emotion. Also, my senses were changed when I was 13. It was 4th of july at my grandma's farm and we were playing with sparklers. I went to go pick one up and I grabbed one that had already been lit and I grabbed it from the wrong end. It hurt very bad. I couldn't use my hand for weeks and I had to go to the doctor just to get stuff for it because it was that bad of a burn. To this day, I hate sparklers.

Writing short storys is fun, but it is not as fun as poetry. I have had a good time so far with the short stories, but before this class I was into poems and now after taking it my poetry and thought waves have expanded so much. I'm a totally new person. Nothing will ever do that to me again.

here's a very short story I wrote from one of the class periods:

There lies a man, naked on the concrete.
His legs are shriveled, his body pale cold
as the snow starts to fall harder onto the ground and his face
As he wakes up, he lifts his body off the groud and says "Life is ironic".

I was very religious all throughout my life. My parents had taught me everything about religion that Methodist are supposed to know, but I had never learned anything else. When I came to college I got the view of religion from a lot of stand points and after about 2 years at this point, I believe in a higher power, but I do not believe what the bible says and I do not believe that there is a heaven and a hell. Thats all thats changed and It's a good change because now, I've learned lots of new views from many different people and I came up with what I beleive on my own

I see you, staring into the air while the wind hits the hairs on my back
I feel you, as you walk away and the scent of your body follows a trail to my heart
I taste you, as the warm sweet honey drains down my lips
I love you, even though your walking away from the one thing that will kill you in the end

Lately I've been writing a lot of poems and I've come up with so much good stuff and it makes me happy, but at the same time, it scares me. Because the only time I write well is when I'm lonley and I've been writing very well for the past 3 weeks, what does that mean? I don't know.

The first day of middle school was horrible. When I got there all of the other kids were bigger than me and scarier than me. Nobody talked to me and my teachers were really scary. I thought that it would be better as it went on, but all of those 3 years were hell for me.

Everything's grey, hearts in a race
tatered and torn, words I can't trace
Love all around me, hate in the air
what am I feeling, am I surrounded by care?
or does the epitamy of hate run through my veins
and tear up the people who drive me insane
what am I now, but an empty green sea
with nothing inside, but shriveled up dream

My friend came down today and we had the greatest time. I hadn't seen her in a year and I was scared things were going to change. But everything was the same we had a great time and we've developed a whole new mature bond, it was a great time.

hair changes color
lips do too
makeup is optional
to hide the freckles too
a bigger build frame
and a very big heart
lies are her evil
which she'll never start
nose like a ski slope
eyes like the sea
changing their colors
wherever she may be
Many things may change
but her heart stays the same
opening to anyone
who comes her way