Advice for the Class of 2016

8th Grade:

I am writing this in Language Arts. Let me just tell you that Mrs. Reagles is crazy good. Yes, she not only is straight forward with what she says, but is good at making decisions that are best for your writing skills. Some more fun facts about Mrs. Reagles would be
1. She is haunted. ( kinda scary for her; and freaks me out a little)
2. Loves taekquando ( cool sport)
3. Loves to conference to long ( not always a bad thing)

Next would be Ms. Mitchell. Well there are many things to say about her.
1. She loves music and is really committed to helping us achieve.
2. The eighth grade music class has to be the best class ever. Ms. Mitchell listens to wierd stories; about our ' interesting' lives as eighth graders.
3. Not only is this class FUN!; but also helps us see our future in music

MRS. WHELAN. Though I only had her for one semester; science was actually..... fun.
1. Mrs. Whelan understands our wierd eighth grade lives. She knows we have things out of school and accepts that.
2. She is fun
3. Interesting techniques help us learn more about strategies we can take into high school and college

Ooo my gosh. Mrs. Silady. Gosh I have had her 2 years in row and every year just gets better. I learned some interesting things about Mrs. Silady over the years
1. She loves kittens
2. Can't say orange or ice cream ( may seem wierd but that is what makes us laugh)
3. Likes when people write on her whiteboard/ chalkboard. ( NOT)
4. She hates the whiteboard; but loves the chalkboard.
5. Christmas is her holiday.
6. GLEE!! She just loves it

Mrs. Colque: I have had Mrs. Colque this whole year and she is a very fun teacher to be around.
1. Gives us great information to help us with tests, quizzes... etc.
2. Likes to play games. ( doesn't always give us homework)
3. Is an easy grader, but grades how she thinks is right.
4. Likes to laugh and play along with our jokes.

Mrs. Stingle: DRAMA!!!!! OOOO yeah!! This is a fun and chill class that is a great class to be in at the end of the day.
1. Likes to help you achieve what you meant to do in drama class ( skits are fun, plays are ridiculous fun, but mrs. stingle is the best. Maybe I am being a little suck-up)
2. Is called shorty ( she is not short just fun-sized)
3. Named Sergeant Stingle ( don't call her anything else that is what she is now named. Just kidding. But just say it, it will make her laugh)
4. AMAZING TEACHER.


-- Some advice that will help you through your eighth grade year.

Writing!

Writing from the beginning of the school year has changed in so many ways. Not only was I scoring a B- on my district assessment but I was getting the hang of eighth grade. IT was a big step up from seventh grade, where essays were something required and happened every week. Sitting in Mrs. Mundt's classroom, a large laptop in front of me; waiting for that inspiration to come. Sometimes it never did come. I would sit there, staring at the large electronic device and think to myself ' When am I going to get inspired?' Then eighth grade came and my possibilities seemed to roam and spread, free at last. Over the process of the year I have attempted to write 3 possible short stories. 2 of which died in the process. I am currently, and will be working on a story all summer. It will definitely take up a lot of my time. But now back to my eighth grade experiences.

Mrs. Reagles. A name that will always stand out in my memory book. She was a different language art teacher. She didn't tell me everything was good when it wasn't, or made me write something I was uncomfortable writing. Heck no. Mrs. Reagles actually inspired me. But this was just one of the things that I love about 8th grade.

Back to writing. Looking back at my first conference when I first scored and 88. I was proud of my writing and what I had accomplished in this short amount of time. Yet, my craving kept me hungry. I had written an essay, a short story ( which has died) and a creative piece. Overall though, not only did eighth grade inspire me, but it has also made me think about my future and how writing can change your life.

IceCream Social:

Last Thursday we went to an ' Icecream Social' at the high school. This event was pointless in my opinion. Maybe for some people it is great to know that someone older and more mature is going to be there for you if you have questions; but not me. I wouldn't say that having someone there all the time is bad, but I just think the ' Icecream Social' event was useless.

Some things that I am worried about high school is not being able to do sports, after-school activities, and homeowork on my daily schedule. I am also worried about the uppper classman. We all feel at the top of the mountain right now but in high school we are going to be at the bottom, having to make our way up. These are some of the things I am worried about for high school.

Jar of Hearts: Regrets of the Past, Plans for the Future

We are all scared the memories of our past will come back to haunt us. A bad nightmare that reoccurs over and over again in our minds. The scars of the nightmare still affect us today, even though we swear we are over what happened. This is a lie. Somehow though, we seem to keep up the lie and make people believe it. " Jar of Hearts" by Christina Perri not only tells the regretful past of her life but how we can reject the unpleasant things to come.

If you have ever had something bad happen to you; which everyone has had one bad thing, then you know as soon as this happens you want to fix it. If you don't it feels like something that is unaccomplished in your life, a forgotten part of yourself altogether.

Physco

He stared me with intent eyes and a moving mouth. I had nothing to say back; I wanted him to be forgotten. Never to be heard or seen again. Someone who was a distant memory that had flown away; to be forgotten forever. While his mouth moved I heard the words " Done with you", " Can't take more of this insanity" and " Crazy". Before I could stop it though; a tear ran down my cheek, smudging my mascara. Then it was silent. The man I now deceived had stopped talking and was motioning towards me. Just seconds later his voiced boomed out loudly " You always do this. Make me feel bad like it's my fault your so annoying and unpleasant to be around." -- to finsh

Author's Note: This is an idea I got from the song ' Jar of Hearts'. Not based on anything real

He walks through the town
Without a word to be spoken
His heart is like metal
And can never be broken

He only breaks of the girls he uses
Unless they are scarred first
By his worst intentions

He is scared of the dark
But loves to fool others
Never to find a lover

He will gnaw away at everything you own
He collects his jar of hearts
One by one until it is full
Then starts a new one
For everyone to behold

I have been scarred by him as well
Half of the city knows his name
Yet no one can catch him
A devil in disguise

Women are scared to go asleep at night
Men protect their homes
But are filled with fright

He walks through the town
Without a word to be spoken
His heart is like metal
And can never be broken

Guns can reflect off his body of armor
Torches don't scare him
He can't be altered

He walks through the town
Without a word to be spoken
His heart is like metal
And can never be broken



Jar of Hearts. My inspiration song.
"CHRISTINA PERRI - JAR OF HEARTS LYRICS." Lyrics. N.p., n.d. Web. 2 May 2011.



Now I can't take one more step towards you
Cause all that's waiting is regret
And don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore?
You lost the love
I loved the most

And I learned to live, half-alive
And now you want me one more time

Who do you think you are?
Runnin' round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Who do you think you are?

I hear you're asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
But I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms

And I learned to live, half-alive
And now you want me one more time

Who do you think you are?
Runnin round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Who do you think you are?

[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/jar-of-hearts-lyrics-christina-perri.html ]


Dear, it took so long just to feel alright
Remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed
Cause you broke all your promises
And now you're back
You don't get to get me back

Who do you think you are?
Runnin' round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Don't come back at all

And who do you think you are?
Runnin round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
Don't come back for me
Don't come back at all

Who do you think you are?

Who do you think you are?

Who do you think you are?

- Based on the character Cynthia from Raymond's Run



The piano came to a sudden hush as my fingers slipped off the keys. Perfection, as always. I am a perfectionist. It is who I am. I try not to show off a lot; but being who I am that is hard. At school my main goal is to be better than everyone else. It may seem like I am a snotty girl who only cares about showing off, but that is not true. I am who I am because of my life. Ever since I was a little girl I've been trying to change my life. Growing up in a house where everything has to be perfect has changed who I once am. Kids in school have known me for showing off and always being this way. My parents expect me to win everything. Spelling bee's , to test's, even mastering the piano. The one thing I hate about my life though; is that so many people dislike me. Including one person who I dislike back, Squeaky. Also known as Hazel Elizabeth Deborah Parker. But I am kind of jealous of her. She has a life. I know her brother and she always seems to keep a sharp eye on him. She is a role model. Being a girl in all adults think we are supposed to be dainty women who stay in the house and listen to their mothers while they talk about politics. Squeaky is different though. She not only stands up for her brother but I think she enjoys doing it. She is also a great runner. She practices every minute of everyday. She is so good at practicing something she loves. I don't get to practice something I adore doing. Sure, I have spelling bee's and piano lesson's but I don't have something I enjoy doing. But today that will all be determined on how well Squeaky has practiced. Gretchen is going to race and try and beat Squeaky this year. She is pretty brave getting the nerve to do this. Even though I hate Squeaky more than piano lessons or spelling bee's she has a passion for running and I admire that.

The Hundreth Dove: The silent serving of death

“The Hundredth Dove”: The Silent Serving of Death
Has there ever been a time in your life when something unexpected has silently snuck up on you? An awaited marriage, a true love, even death, can change life for the better or for worse. In the story “The Hundredth Dove” written by Jane Yolen we see how she is trying to show us how something so beautiful can be taken away from us so easily.

Picture something so elegant and lovely. It may seem perfect in your eyes and for the time being all you can see is perfection when you look at it. We can relate this image of perfection to the quiet, soon to be queen and the beautiful white dove in “The Hundredth Dove”. But when the king asks the fowler to serve one-hundred doves for his marriage to the Lady Columbia, she seems to show a different side of herself; almost like she is pleading for the doves to be saved. This can relate to our life so easily. When you don’t get something you want to plead and try to bargain. Although we know the final decision is made we can’t help but try. Though when a fatal mistake is suddenly made by the sly fowler retrieving the doves his only option may be to start a whole new life with a whole new purpose.

There are times in our lives where we all make mistakes. I know that in my life making mistakes is common. I maybe don’t finish my homework on time, or try to fake something that I am doing. But in “The Hundredth Dove” the fowler not only makes a mistake but causes a death. While trying to catch the one-hundredth bird, a white silk dove; he notices that she is different from all the rest. But his loyalty gets in the way and the beautiful white bird perishes. A simple mistake of loyalty causes the death of something so beautiful. We can relate this to a flower. Something so beautiful has to die eventually , even though we may take care of it and love it. When there is nothing left for the fowler to live for; since the beautiful queen and the gorgeous white bird have passed way, he starts a whole new life with a whole new purpose.

The passing of something we cherish is like a silent death. No one makes a sound for some still can’t believe that the death has happened. I think the lesson in this story is to have loyalty but to not let it get in the way of something that really matters.

If you really knew me

If you really knew me you would know that the happiness on the outside is not always on the inside. Sometimes the struggle of life and the depression eats away at me. I can't help but try and struggle through some days with all the courage I have. I don’t have a bad life; my life as actually being pretty good. But I feel like sometimes I am wearing a mask that actually covers me. I can't get out; walking around the halls with a smile plastered on my face. If you really knew me….

District Assessment

A joy to be taking this wonderful assessment. Yes, I am back to being sarcastic about everything, but this is just how I am. Am I supposed to sit there and put on a barbie and ken smile to show that writing isn't that bad. No, I can't do that. I am supposed to enjoy reading things that put me to sleep? Probably not. I don't want to make it sound like Language Arts is a bad class. It is not, I am only talking about the district assessment. No worries people. I love language arts other than taking these stupid things. If anyone seems offended by these things..... sorry! but not really cause this is my blog.

Mistake

A mistake is sometimes misunderstood. In my definition of a mistake it means that you had an off day and you weren't as focused as you could have been. Your mind was clogged up with the certain thoughts of something else and it wasn't opening up to anything new. A mistake should be a forgive, and forget moment of the past. One second, even one millisecond after it is done you should have quickly forgiven it. (If this happens again though, the mistake can't be a mistake anymore. Just in case you wanted to know that. Again this is all my definition) But have you ever been in one of those situations where suddenly an accusation is thrown at you for some unapparent reason and you don't know what you did to deserve this harsh talking-to. Well, me 2. Don't worry. In my opinion I wish I was one of those people who would just ignore what the person was saying and; 1. nod their head and shake the ' yes i understand look' 2. pretend none of this had ever happened and agree that yes it was the wrong thing to do or 3. picture something else as that person is talking to you. Unfortunately I am not one of those people. :( I am one of those who takes in what they say and ponders it. Great another one of my great qualities: LISTENING! Anyway, a mistake. A raw example of well, life. So why can't most people understand it that way ?

Spring Everyone

The rain pounding down on the roof . The strike of lighting followed by thunder which sounded like a loud bowling alley. The house shaking with the vibrations from the outside. All of this was covered in one night. A night that most people remember every year. The snow melting away, the temperature coming up from freezing, to average/cool. Where the clothes from the winter are pushed toward the back of your closet. Spring. The first day of spring and we have a thunderstorm. What a coincidence for us isn't it? Out of all the days that it could rain ( and it has) mother nature picks the first day of spring. O and wait we have another coincidence too. Spring falls on a Monday in 2011. A Monday is not the best day for people around the world. It means starting a new week and hating it all the while. So imagine ( unless you are already up) waking up on a Monday to a rainy start and then checking your calendar and seeing ' OoOooO hey, yeah it's the first day of spring.' Isn't it a joy. So for all the rain that pounded on my roof last night, and for the suckish day we are having so far today I just want to mention one thing, Happy Spring Everybody.

The way some people......

The way that some people are like puppies to others because they want to contain with friendship. The way that some people won't give up what they have already lost. Certain people try to hard to get what they want. I don't. It may take forever to forgive a friend or lose one, but somehow you never forget what you have/had. Examples:? One person goes to the bathroom: 2 other people follow. One person wears pink everyday, the other starts acting more girly than she is. Why do people have to go and change themselves for other people. Attention, depression? Does being alone make them scared? A good friend doesn't make you change or turn against other friends ( that was another example by the way). Why would you even think of doing that? The way some people.......

The Wind

Blowing violently in all directions and yet the wind will not blow to you. The wind will blow against the glass windows of the car and enclose on a small school but the wind will not blow to you.

Suddenly without warning the wind will slow down and strike only the trees and the flowers with a noiseless sound. It has calmed down and made the world peaceful again. Yet the wind may strike at any time whenever it feels it must and then will blow to no end.

2081- the horror of the future

The year was 2081. The wind had blown throughout the town for days and still had not ceased for the reason, that the world was chaotic. People lit torches and burned homes for the same reason, that the world was chaotic.
The only person that stayed calm during these horrifying years was a girl by the name of Lucy Carlisle. Nothing special came to mind when people thought of Lucy. But little did they know that she would be the only one to survive 2081 disaster.



Lucy was an orphan. She had been given away; thrown out unwanted. She was not someone to easily be hated and yet no one had ever loved her. The orphanage that took her in was only a small square building that looked like it could house no more than 15 children; maybe even less. Somehow though Lucille did not complain about the standards of where she slept or what she ate; however she just took everything for granted. How she did it, not one person knows.



" AHHHHHHH," The building suddenly collapsed and the horrendous shout that once spoke so many word now was ceased by loud,prosperous crashing of the building. The dust increased all around and blood was all over the street. The bodies looked like they were violently thrown from fifty story buildings. The people who had made it then looked around, hoping for the damage to be done. Unfortunately just as the people were back to their homes the bomb rapidly hit the orphanage building. Everyone was killed except for Lucy Carlisle who was standing in the middle of the street; petrified.

The clock ticked midnight and the small city the housed more dead bodies than a cemetery was silenced. ( no -- not finished

Harrison Bergeron

“Harrison Bergeron”: by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.: The loss of being individual

When you picture yourself in the future do you picture yourself being free and being able to be whoever you want, or being the same as everyone else? Most people would want to be different and have their own personalities. In the story “Harrison Bergeron” written by Kurt Vonnegut Jr we learn of a future that not only has no differences between people but everyone is created just the same.

Being individual is something that you don’t need to work on. You know how you talk, how you dress, even the attitude that you use. Having all this in your life is what makes you well, you. But just imagine living in a world that restricts you from ever using these unique talents again. This relates to “Harrison Bergeron” in the fact that even just thinking can put you in handicaps, which is a small earpiece that sends off sounds when you are thinking too hard. The hardships that these people go through to be equal puts a heavy weight on everyone.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr also has you try to picture 47 pound bags or heavier put on you so you could have the same strength as everyone else. NO one would be able to lift heavier weights than you or do more sit ups than you. You would be equal in everything. “Harrison Bergeron” the story, explains how everyone in the future must be perfect and equal together as a community. Being equal and the same as everyone else, is not always a good thing.

The future can lead to so many possibilities that they are endless. You decide whether you want to lose weight or work out more. Maybe even become a doctor. You can be yourself and have to do what any other person does. No one is trying to persuade you on what you can and can’t do. Individuality is something that separates you from everyone else. We can have control over it whenever, wherever!

L.A.

I can't think and my mind is having trouble seeing. The words are clogged in the back of my mind like a fork clogged in the garbage disposal. One word at a time comes to me and I don't know how to make it all fit together. A paper is slowly processed and yet another paper is scheduled. Processing Language Arts in my mind would only keep me up all night.

The monster

The broken heart that lies inside. The tears that go from the inside out. The throwing of the vases and the breaking of the good china. My life is like this exact day replayed over and over again. You can't stop what is happening because you can't see the hell I go through everyday. The pain and suffering that starts at 6 in the morning. You wouldn't understand because you will never know how it feels to be a monster.

Lost :(

On the computer, late at night writing words that mean nothing to me. Spilling out what is in my mind,questiong myself as my fingers press the buttons down. I try to control what I am writing but I can't seem to control why my fingers keep typing the same word. Lost, Lost, Lost, Lost! The deepening truth that still haunts me late at night. The silent whisper of death. :(

How a Book Can Change Your LIfe

It may not seem possible but a book can change your life. Just reading about real life experiences that happen to actual people may give you information that you never knew before but now you are clear on knowing.



The car came to a halt in front of the Pewaukee Public Library. I hadn't been here in forever and my gut feeling was telling me that this would be the most boring 30 minutes of my life. The rain was shattering down on my head as I quickly stepped out of the car and ran to the entrance; not bothering to hold the door open for anyone else. I walked into the library and looked around at the stacks of books, computers, DVD's, etc. I shrugged away the feeling to walk out of the door, not go back in again. The truth is, I don't hate reading but my hobby is definetly NOT picking out a book and reading for several hours. But I didn't walk out and wait for the 25 minutes to be over, but instead I walked to the young adult section to find a book. I quickly eyed the books in the first row and decided that none of them interested me. Second and third row were the same also so I continued on to the second to last row and scanned the aisles. I had to find a book to read or my mission would be incomplete on actually finding a book. My eyes slowly landed on a book called " Before I fall" by Lauren Oliver. The book looked interesting enough so I picked it up and read the inside cover. 'WOW' I thought to myself as I read the inside cover, 'I found a book I would actually want to read.' Only 10 minutes had gone past since I stepped foot into the library and I still had like 20 minutes to go. Another book would be to hard to look for and I was also to interested to do anything else but actually start the book. I could go on and on about how much I enjoyed the book and how everything in the book, though fiction, is so real but I won't. I just know that as a teen this book surely did change my life.

Deaf

Deaf. Hard to wrap your finger around this simple word. Just envision not being able to hear or talk as well as you could . Deaf. A loss for the people who really are deaf. What can we do to help them? The question will haunt me forever, that is true. Deaf. This is the word that most people don't think about. Why you may ask? Well, not matter how self - centered it may sound the fact is that we don't care. When we think about it all we want to do is help. But when we don't think about it it's like a memory we never really think about but is always truly there. Deaf is just a minimal word but can mean so many things.

Abuse

The tears dropped onto my swollen hands. I had been holding back these tears all day and I finally could let then out where no one would see me. My feet were sore and the bruises were multiplying day by day. He had left an impact on my life. For though it seemed like just minutes before that he had hit me, it was really a week ago that he last abused me. Once you're abused there isn't one day when you don't feel the pain laid upon you.
The tears come more rapidly now and increasingly turn into a sob. I had done nothing to deserve this. My parents hadn't loved me but I didn't expect them to sell me away to a devil of man. From the first day I had set foot in his house he had set his eyes on me. I had done everything that he had asked and never once complained to him about my sleeping arrangements, in the vegetable cellar. Hadn't brought up the fact that he cooked like someone who hadn't ever seen a kitchen. I was a sport; someone who could stand up to mean girls at my old school, or say it was nothing when I got hit with a soccer ball. But the one thing I could not stand up to was verbal and physical abuse. So tears. Some say this is a sign of weakness but I say it is a sign of showing your emotions. -- blog

?? (2)

The tiny pitter patter on the window wakes me from my dream. I quickly get up and look out the window. The dark of the night elopes around and makes me want to run out and scream my name over and over again. Just think…. I am not alone in what I am feeling. Snow, rain, wind, tornado, hurricane, tsunami, any form of harm can make me nervous. No, not nervous for myself but for everyone else who lives on the street. Homelessness in the United States is very common. Most people will explain again and again to me that homeless people are ONLY the people who live out on the street and have no home. But what could I say to that , you may ask; for most think that I agree. No, not only do I disagree but I also will fight against it. Homelessness to me is having no one love you or having no one care for you. Anyone could ask ;why do you even care? But I ask, How could you not care? The soft pitter patter on the window gets louder and I leisurely make my way back to the bed. I quietly sit and conclude that I need to go back to bed. These questions not only haunt me for the rest of the night but for the rest of my life. -- blog

??

Questioning yourself about anything; everything. Why are you here with this person, why did you blurt out the secret to everyone, why are you here in this world? Questions that haunt people till they die. Yet do they still haunt people even when we think they are put to rest? Haha, yet another question that can be answered. Of course many scientists or smarty pants people could look up all these questions and come up with simple answer. But think, do you really want a simple answer?? Do you want something you are not satisfied with? Questions? What do they really mean?

Darkness

The dark night is evoking all around you. You can't make it stay in it's place. You are terrified of it looking you in the eyes and smiling the devilish smile you only see to often. You want to fall asleep, dreaming of short nights and long days. You hear the dark whispering in your ear so terrifyingly. You can hear it's menacing voice; shortly after hearing it's laughter rumble out of it's body. Then tears slowly run down your cheeks and you taste your tears in your mouth. You sit like this the entire night, till morning arrives. The darkness slowly leaves your room. You feel at peace and for the rest of the day you will; till night approaches again.

Snow Day

The cold is biting at your legs as you trudge up the hill one more time. Hop on the slide and and tumble down the hill. Plop! Flat; face first into the snow. Frost bite, snow down your boots and snow in your hair. Yet; you still trudge up the hill again and again just to enjoy the feeling of a snow day. Snow day can mean so many things that most don't understand. Some of the things I think about are cold, snow, hot chocolate, movies, blankets, friends. Oooo yeah and you can't forget the shoveling. But you don't care. You are happy to be off school and enjoy the time away. That is what a snow day means to me.

Too Quiet

The quiet streets came to an uproar by midnight the night of December 16, 2077. Bodies were strewn across the street and there were ambulances blocking the roads. People came out their houses to see what had just occurred on their normally peaceful street. All of this seemed to be an accident just waiting to happen. None of these streets were plowed by big truck companies that normally snowplowed in the city. Then a freezing night would approach and the roads would turn to cold hard ice. Two hours passed and the night seems to quiet down. Though the houses down the street erupt with light and the voices questioning what had just happened. But one house had stayed quiet the whole night. No lights came out of the dusty shades and no voices echoed through the thin walls. The next day people would knock on doors and question people on what they saw or what they thought happened. The last door those people would knock on would be the address of 2345 West Maple Lane, South Virginia 44356. No one would answer and they would all walk in to a see small house; bare.
Lucille Declor was not a criminal at heart. She grew up in a normal city, with normal parents. She had never spoken much when she was younger. Lucille hadn't been the girl at school who knew everything, or everyone. She was the girl with the nerdy glasses and braces who was always in the spelling and geography bees. But what she had done the night of December 16, 2077 could not be mistaken for an accident to the officials. Now though it may have been dark the officials knew it was not an accident by how none of the cars had slid or flipped. These mini vans and Honda's were all just smashed into one another. Now what they had to find out was how to track down the criminal.
' It wasn't me. Ok maybe it was me but I still didn't mean to do it. How was I supposed to know there would be a dozen cars coming down the street that night? I hadn't meant to kill all of those people. I didn't know I could control what people did. I just wanted to make them feel scared and afraid of what might happen next. I couldn't tell you, journal anything that I made them do, because the ways that they died were horrible. How could I have done that to ordinary people I didn't even know? Journal, I know that if you could talk you would tell me to stop writing all of this junk on your page and to go and turn myself in right now; but I can't die or go to jail. I know that there is no way I would ever get out of jail even if I had bail. The death chair was another option. They would kill me the way that I had killed all of them. Painful, gruesome, horrible deaths I made them all suffer through. I could tell you my whole life long story on why this had happened. But to shorten it up for you I had a horrible childhood. My mother and father were never home and even when they were no one knew I was there. So journal I wanted revenge at 20 years. I wanted to take it out on anyone and everyone. I'm so so sorry but I can't take back what I did.'
Lucille turned into the Tresh Hotel. Dirty and ugly from the outside many had only dared to take a look at this place and drive off again. Unfortunately this was the only place the Lucille could afford. What awaited her inside was for her to find out.
The door creaked open as Lucille walked in. Looking down she saw the roaches that scattered at the light. No one was at the check in desk so she took a key from behind the desk and went to room 100 where the key was supposed to unlock the door. Lucille stepped inside only to find a bed unmade and moths attached to the only window in her room. This is what Lucille got for being a criminal. She would never feel right about what she had done. What could she do though? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Lucille lay down and dreamt.

Spiraling out of control. Tumbling toward the center of the earth. Wait, no, this was not the center. This was the rough patch of ground that she lay on while waking up. Sh*t. There was a dead rat sitting just feet away from her. Her hands felt like jello and her legs were numb. The carpet smelled like feet with mold. Gosh, I hate my life. She slowly lifted her head and looked at the clock. It was 5:30 am in the morning. "I could have had a warm shower, put on fresh makeup and a made a chocolate latte. Nope; because you decided to go and kill all of those people. You stupid.. Stupid…………" Then there was a muffle/snore. Frozen into place. The ground felt like it was giving away. Slowing and quietly she got to her knees. Right on top of her bed was a old, white bearded man. Who was he and what was he doing in my room? Technically it wasn't my room since all I had was the key and I didn't pay for it; but I was still in the room. What was she to do? " Pack up your stuff and get out of here. Sleep in your car. Take the food and water from the fridge and slowly pull of the comforter and leave!!," She silently whispered to herself. He stirred and awoke with a start. All that she could do was stare at him. " GGOooooddd mooornining…." he said groggily to her. He was drunk and she knew it. Slowly, she lifted herself off the ground.