Mavry Potts
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Check Out These Posts!
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Hello! Today I have something very special in store for you guys. I’m joined by my good friend Sophie from Sparkle News. We will both be doing a post on each other’s blogs. On my blog you will see soon we both did a piece on power. On her blog you’ll find a piece on a country or countries we’d like to visit. I will link her blog at the end of this post so you can check out her blog and my post on there.
Here is Sophie’s piece: Due to unforeseen circumstances Sophie’s piece will not be going up. You can still check it her blog to see the piece I did on there with her. I greatly apologize. Now here is my piece: It doesn’t take much for me as a person to go from feeling all powerful and the best in the world to a complete and total loser. A few words that meant well are often taken completely wrong. Constructive criticism often feels like an excuse to make fun of someone. In this world, I feel so freaking powerless. When I was younger I would burst into tears randomly. These outbursts always led to so many people asking me if I was okay. Of course, I wasn’t okay, someone that’s okay doesn’t start crying for no reason. Eventually, I learned to control my emotions. I can tell when I’m about to cry by a tingling in the bridge of my nose. I open my eyes wide and avoid what was causing me pain. I seemed to have gained some sort of power over my emotions. Of course, the power I felt was just an illusion because late at night I’d break into tears and be scared to close my eyes because of the monsters that haunted my mind. Still to this day when I try to sleep I have to try as hard as I can to keep my mind blank otherwise gruesome and horrifying images show themselves to me. I feel powerless when I’m walking for I have this unexplainable urge to be in front and walk fast. I start freaking out if someone who walks fairly slow gets in front of me. I’m powerless when it comes to these feelings, they control me. I become irritable and most people can’t stand me during these times. Most of my life makes me feel powerless. I don’t know what to do when I freak out I let my emotions control me and I lash out at people I care for. I find that the only thing I really have power over is my writing. I can control this keyboard and the pen in my hand. Hold it close
let it go you can fly but not with it it’s a weight it’s pulling you down they’re pulling you down shake them off The aren’t what they say they are they aren’t friends they’re your competition and they’re winning shake them off they’re parasites if you turn the corner you’ll see those who bring you up not pull you down they exist I promise you just turn right on Faith St. then take a left on Hope Dr. this isn’t a dead end unlike the path you were on there is always a new place to go there is no dead end on this road for if you see one you just turn down a different street here failure is a small setback your real friends will build you up and pull you out of that pothole and maybe someday you’ll all learn to fly and leave this sorry world behind you’re worth it. Today I have two pieces for you, the second one will be going up three hours after this one is posted.
~ You will breathe Inhale the gaseous remains It might be hard But it’s worth it. You will swallow Consume the spoiled milk In might taste bad But you could be dead. You will exhale Let out the poison It might be the last But you need to. You will walk Step onto the hot coal It might burn your feet But you can’t stand still. You will run Away from the monster It might be tiring But you need to survive. You will sleep Through the screams It might be what kills you But you need the energy. You will die Just jump right there It might not be what you want But it is what we require of you. The sudden fountain that springs up in front of you. It covers you with the black goo it’s spitting out. Slowly it consumes you and you can do nothing about it. The world around you is spinning. You’re perfectly still, but the whole world is spinning. In these final moments of your life, you think of everything you’ve ever done. All your accomplishments that have led to this slow and dizzying death. No one will ever know where you disappeared off to. Most will assume you just ran away off on another pointless adventure. Eventually, someone a few centuries from now will find your bones perfectly preserved in the tar. They’ll examine you and determine your age, gender, and even what era you’re from. They might notice the remodeling on that one bone you broke as a kid. Maybe they’ll see where you were stabbed in the leg that one night. Your leg never worked the same after that. They might figure out your profession from occupational markers. Maybe they’ll try to find who you were. Maybe they’ll figure out who you are and maybe they’ll try to contact your few living relatives... if any. Maybe people will miss you. You might go into a museum as evidence from the past. That’s all you are anyway, evidence. These people bottled up their feelings long ago. How else are they supposed to deal with dead bodies?
At this point, you probably forgot that how you died was so strange. Maybe that was your mind compensating for how terrible your death actually was. You were stuck in the tar for what seemed like forever before you actually died. Next time when you’re adventuring maybe you shouldn’t step in the mysterious substance. Of course, there won’t be a next time. You’re dead after all, face it. Describe failure to me. Is it that pit in your stomach you feel after you realized you caused it. Or is it that smile you fake trying to show everyone you’re perfectly fine. It especially hurts because you told your group that you didn’t care if you won or not because you really do. This is the reason you hate group projects so much because the group environment throws you off your game. You’re a solo act you’ve always been. Sure these are some of your best friends around you, but that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. You’d rather be with complete strangers. You’re friends with them because they’re like you. A bunch of you working together is just plain stupid. Who thought this was a good idea. You know this is going to happen again. What are you supposed to do just reject being in a group with your friends? You know nobody else wants you in their group, remember you purposely avoid talking to other people. They all think you’re a freak, antisocial, loser. That’s why you always lose.
Describe winning to me. It feels good right. Yeah, not for long. See the only one who really cares that you won is you. The fact is you always win at this and it doesn’t surprise anyone. Honestly, everyone hates you when you win. You act like a big, selfish, loser. Your big smile just makes people want to gouge out their eyes. You know they don’t get it. They don’t get how much this means to you. Sure you win at this particular thing every time, but you never win at anything else. You do hundreds of things and this is the only thing you ever win at. All these people in the crowd win a whole lot more than you. That’s why they don’t get how much this means to you. Maybe that’s why you always lose. I understand okay. I understand how much you want to win, but when you do no one gets what it means to you. I understand how hard you push to accomplish because someday someone will be happy for you. I understand that people like me and you are the ones who will eventually accomplish the big things. We are the ones destined to be on TV nominated for those big awards. When our names are called as the one who won a ginormous smile will grow on our face. When we walk up that stage we’ll break into tears when hundreds of hands slam together to make that terrific noise. We’ll open our mouth and thank all those people who never understood. We are the ones who will win something that very few can say they won. I can promise you that’s why we always lose. Rhythm and rhyme
I’ll keep trying I’ll hold it close Despite the pain I know I’ll mess up I know nothing else But that doesn’t really matter. I hold you close You are my anchor You are my paperweight I’m not floating away You’re keeping me grounded You’re keeping me alive Despite my needle sharp spines. Know I won’t let go We’ll continue on We’ll be survivors Unlike the so many others We aren’t going to die We aren’t going to hurt These are the bones of survivors. To know is to grieve
to actually feel something the pain of the steady beating drum the weight of one last goodbye. To know is to hurt to know there is nothing and you can do nothing about it until that one last sad goodbye. To know is to love to feel for those few souls that even with hard work is here until that one last terrible goodbye. To know is to feel the pain that millions scream they make your ears bleed out to that one last forgotten goodbye. To know is to be afraid to not know what awaits you the pearly gates aren’t what you fear it’s that one last goodbye. I have a tendency of writing when I get stressed. Spilling out all my emotion into something that no one could possibly understand. Most of the time it’s a nonsense poem seeming to be talking about one thing to most people, but meaning something entirely different to me. I’m actually very glad I found out I could do that, because before I knew poetry was actually not all that bad I would try to sing and dance to get rid of stress. As soon as I started writing I realized how stressed dancing actually made me. Up until a year ago I took five dance classes a week and I had a headache by the end of most of them. I would freak out when I saw the girls on pointe because even then I knew they would never move me up. Something about me just wasn’t pointe material. I left dance though. Another thing I recently quit was choir. A rather innocent thing to quit you would think. See I’ve been doing a choir forever and I can tell you that the one thing I’ll always remember from choir is the people. The whole atmosphere always made me uncomfortable. Sure I love singing, I’m pretty good if I do say myself, but I just didn’t like the people. I’ve gone so far from the topic of writing at this point. See what I’m trying to say is that over the past two years I really have discovered myself. I went from being a dancer and a singer two very extrovert things to being a writer and a theatre techie two more introvert things. I’m not saying I’m an introvert, I’m really not. I just don’t want as much attention to be on me. The less attention there is on me the less stressed I am and the more likely I am to succeed, then I can handle the attention.
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Mavry PottsPosts every Monday and/or Wednesday Archives
December 2017
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