Try to use all of the words in a story: plastic bottle, hockey puck, dirty handkerchief, crumpled note, unhinged door.

My fingers fumbled over the crumpled note.

I unfolded it and smoothed it out as much as I could. I gulped and my eyes danced along the graceful writing on the page. The words became a blur as tears welled in my eyes. A single tear fell from my face and stained the page. I brushed away the tears and carefully folded the note. Not today, I thought. Not today, I won't cry.

The dirty handkerchief still lay on the table. I didn't want to move it. What if he came back, and asked where his handkerchief was? I didn't want to toss his lucky handkerchief. I didn't even want to lay a finger on it. Every time I touched something that belonged to him, a sick feeling washed over me. I felt like I was being called to the very depths of hell.

You should pick this up...my brain nagged. But when I tried to touch anything, my heart ached. I didn't want to throw him away. What would happen if I did? What if I forgot about him? I balled a fist and punched the wall, quickly yanking my hand back and pressing into my sore knuckles. Dammit.

"He's not coming back," I murmured, gazing at the dirty, tiled floor. I lifted my hand and cautiously picked up the plastic bottle he used to take in his lunches. Shaking, I carried it to the trash bag and tossed it. I quickly swept the handkerchief in the bag as well, my heart aching, my stomach churning, my eyes burning with tears.

That night, I walked down the hall of my house and let my eyes peer longingly at the room he used to slumber in. His room had no door; after we moved in together, we had always planned to put this bright green door with rather intricate designs in. But it was too big for the doorway, and we'd never bothered to fix it. We'd left the unhinged door leaning against the foot of his bed.

I silently slipped into his room and curled up in his soft sheets. I curled my fingers around the loose end of the pillowcase and breathed in his scent. The tears dried as I buried my face in his pillow. I slipped in and out of consciousness several times, but at last I sat up and gazed in the mirror.

It was as if he was sitting on the bed next to me, reading. Like we always used to. Sit on his bed and read. I miss those days. We were so alive. So young, so passionate. Nothing mattered but each other.

But then he died.

Go on with bravery and love.

A boy without a name.

i loved him

Don't think you can fool me.

You don't love me.

You never did. You never will. You just wanted my affection, because there's an empty part of your you're too lazy to fill. Don't come crying to me when she realizes she's stupid to love you. I said I'd always be there for you when you need me, but you don't need me now. You've got to grow up yourself. I'm not your tool.

As long as there's a roof on your head, clothes on your back, and food in your fridge, you're fine. I don't care if everyone hates you. You're alive. Stop complaining about how much it sucks that your parents are divorced and you don't understand girls. Take a minute to think mine bicker all the ****ing time and they refuse to split. Think about how I always give my all to the guys I love and they shatter my heart into pieces.

Like you did. Like you always will. And it's stupid, I fall for it every time. But it feels so good, the fall, and when the pain hits, when I crash and crumple into the ground, all I search for is the fall, to forget all of the pain. Don't use me.

I'm stupid to love you.

Go on with bravery and love.

Why would a speaker be afraid of cats?

"When I was young boy, my pet cat was one of the most important things in my life," Nikk spoke confidently. "She was amazing. She was the only thing that never changed. When she died, my heart was shattered into a million pieces. I didn't know how I'd go on."

The crowd sighed in sympathy. Nikk nodded, and continued. "But speaking has provided me with newfound confidence. It's what makes me feel like I can go on. It makes me the happiest man alive." He grinned widely as the crowd applauded.

Out of the blue, a rotted, undead cat came toppling down on Nikk. It mewed lovingly, then grinned a toothless smile. Nikk gaped at the cat, and heartbroken, the cat sunk it's mouth into his arm. It burned like fire.

Nikk tossed the cat into the crowd and people scattered like shards of glass. The cat disinegrated into the concrete, leaving the speaker panting and baffled. To this day, Nikk despises cats, and refuses to speak at any animal shelter with cats.

Kittens are alright through.

Go on with bravery and love.

Electricity is a recent discovery. Think of 12 things to do when there's no power.

1} Light a candle and make mini smores.
2} Turn on the battery-powered radio to Kiss FM, then turn on some flash lights and flicker them on/off, flash them back and forth, etc, and have a rave.
3} The classic: tell scary stories!
4} Make up your own classic radio show and run through episodes until the power comes back on.
5} Run around poking people.
6} Leave people in your area creepy voicemails.
7} Make weird sounds to freak people out.
8} Try to navigate the messiest room in your house.
9} Play the guessing game.
10} TP the living room with your eyes closed.
11} Act like a ghost.
12} Make a list of what you'll do when the power comes back on.

Maybe...

This is not hardly related to music at all, but I'll try to tie it into a cover or something somehow.

This is my motto for love: everyone leaves. No one will stay, despite their promises. They will die, they will fall for someone else, they'll take what they what from you and run. Any excuse to leave, they will take. So expect nothing from anyone. Do not try. It's never worth it.

But the only problem with this is that I want to try. I don't want to give up. I always have a spark of hope in me that maybe, just maybe it will work. Maybe we can try again. Maybe we'll have a happily ever after. I have my whole life to fall in love, they say, but I don't want to spend a single second out of it.

Don't give up. Someone will stay. They won't die, they won't fall for someone else, they won't steal something special from you and run. They will love you and they will prove it. Maybe.

Go on with bravery and love.

Me?

Welcome to this blog of blogginess. My name is Annie Kittrell. I'm thirteen years old. I sing, drum, and I'm learning ukulele. My favorite color is [green], food is [anything with cheese, really], animal is [peguin, maybe owl], and band/artist [changes all the time, good luck singling out one!]. I live in Texas. I am Italian/American. I was born in New York and I love music and fashion. Philanthropy is also a passion of mine.

I set up this blog so people can see what it's really like being a musician, not even a famous one at that. My goal is upload a song at least once a week, and blog every other day. I hope anyone who stumbles across this little diary of mine is amused :)