This felt great to write!

I woke up late for class again yesterday. The daylight savings change really isn't working for me.

When I snuck in, the class was dead silent, which never happens in Creative Writing. Usually we are yelling and laughing and scheming and it is easy to sneak in. But of course today, the day I'm way behind, the room is a vaccuum.

On the board is written one phrase "The emptiest word...". Dan tells me we are writing what comes to mind, then sharing. I look around and watch the girl to my far left write frantically. I watch a few stare blankly at the ceiling. Some shift their glances to others' papers, trying to get some ideas. I know what word is empty to me;

The emptiest word has only one name in our language
Overused, overexposed, doused and saturated.
Like a dirty sponge it is wrung out
and left dry and deflated.

Your tongue will snake out to form its sound
Your teeth will bite off the end of the little letters
Everyone should know better.

It can mean anything to anyone, and to the naive
who see stars and dreams
This piece of language fills them like molasses streams.
Sticky thoughts and slow grins, lips and fingertips.
It oozes and drips
Like poison through pinpricks.

Disappearing gray thin smoke through a window above
Is there only one word to mean love?

Yeah, brutal I know. I really enjoyed writing it though, and it got me thinking of other words. Like distance. What an empty word. I instantly think of a long blank stretch on a map, or the clear space between hands. Or worse yet, the distance between people. The word can mean emotional, physical or mental, and it envokes negative feelings. Incredible word, says so much but yet I can still find myself calling it empty.

When I went to Tommy and David's house later to get them off the bus, I realized how empty all words can truly be. Me and David got in a fight; he wouldn't share with his brother and was getting out of hand, and he really got to me. I had to take away his privilege of having a friend come over and he lost it.

"I hate you, you're the worst!" Nine year olds know just what to say...but deep down I knew he didnt mean that at all.

"Fine, David. If that is how you feel then we just can't do fun things anymore. No more games or going out to eat or anything like that. Now you need to sit upstairs and calm down for a bit" Again...I didnt even kind of mean that. I love these kids, I'd do anything with them, they're so fun.

After he stormed upstairs I went into the bathroom to wash my face, realizing I had started to cry at what a nine year old said to me. Hahaha after everything that doesn't make me cry over years and years, a nine year old can break me down in one minute...but I stood there looking at my watery little eyes in the mirror and the little blotches I get on my face when I get all worked up and I thought about words. I thought about my poem. I thought about the distance between me and that little kid; that an hour ago he would've told me anything, and now he was locked away behind a door and up the stairs probably wishing my hair would catch fire. In one sense, these words are so empty. We say things we do not mean to everyone everyday.

"Hi, how are you?"

"Good thanks!"

Sound familiar? Is everyone "good" everyday? God no. And do people asking really care how you are? Doubt it. Yet David's words, as empty and hollow as they were, sent me reeling. Not because he said them with any meaning, but because of the attachment behind it. Distance is relative and love can mean 83784389 different things, so I guess neither are empty unless you make them empty. And after this past week of little revelations I've been having through some pretty amazing people I have met, I think I am all done thinking things are so empty.

Rory took me to the beach the other morning and we watched the sun come up, and it was freezing but he waded in the water anyways. I stood there with terrible deja vu about something similar I did last summer and that was empty to me. But there wasn't emptiness here, I felt a little wary still but also, I felt like things were filling in a bit and that though we were the only ones on the beach, it wasn't all that empty. The sun was fire orange and the ocean was periwinkle blue, a color I'd never really seen in before. It was like a fresh start, a blank slate. Even "blank" slates aren't empty, you can put on them whatever you like.

Last night, Paul and I had a good conversation about our friends and how much fun we all have together. Even though we do nothing, our time spent is never empty. We fill it with jokes and laughter and dreams and music and plans for the summer. It's incredible now that I sit here and write this all down.

For a while, I have felt so hollow and empty. But these last 24 hours or so have showed me my life is brimming and full. It took quite the cast of characters to change my view, but its a complete 360. Summer's coming, changes will be imminent, but I'm ready. I know my future isn't empty, and it will be filled with lots of words.