Your Mind is Playing Tricks On You. My Dear.

Chapter One

I hate school, like no kidding.

It's boring and its packed with kids who either 'don't belong' or act like they have sticks shoved up there...

Never mind that.

Maybe i'd have more respect for the Preps, Goths, Geeks, Freaks, Dramatics, Brilliance club members, if I was actually part of them.

I'm not a loner... Well I do know that I belong, everywhere but in school.

I hate school.

I'd rather be out exploring my Forrest and Mountain behind my house.

They aren't actually mine, but know one else actually goes out there, I don't know why it's like there scared of facing the brilliance of it all, and since I was little I've called them mine.

The Forrest is huge and never ending, every time I go out there I face some new form of amazing that I could have never imagined before. People, if they saw it would just say, it's just a river or its just a tree.

But it's not, it's just another piece of the wonderful nothing's that all belong in something so.. So... Magical.

There was a urgent ringing through the English class room that broke me out of my fantasy.

Fire alarm.

The teacher gathered her supplies and clipboard with our attendance roll and told us to shuffle in an organized way out of the building and towards the baseball fields.

It was only a practice drill.

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While we were lined up along the fence, after teach finished her attendance, we just had to sit and wait for the other classes and ect. I stood in the back, alone, as always watching the chaos with the teachers trying to calm there classes.

After a little while I sat down by a tree only a few yards away and started to draw, not like I had much else to do.

I love art, I can draw, paint, mold, sculpt, and when I finish I feel I can almost pull it into reality.

I'm a person of detail, it's probably why I think my woods are just so perfect.

I sketched out one of my favorite places in the Forrest.

It takes me a few hours to get to this part of the Forrest, I have to leave early in the morning just so I can spend time there for a couple hours and then get back home around 9-10 at night.

This place is what makes these woods the most magical.

There is a huge willow tree, but before I get there I have to cross the river. The tree has long branches that are full of leaves that reach the ground perfectly, and when the wind blows you can smell the honey suckle that surrounds the tree with long stems of lavender.

And sometimes during the spring a few, sometimes only a handful, of red poppies bloom right along the base if the tree trunk.

Once, during the summer I was sitting under the great willow and a cluster of butterflies glided into view. They would stick together on the honey suckle and within minutes they flew around the tree, and took off again, disappearing in between the other trees.

I drew that. The butterflies, poppies and honey suckle with the little surroundings of lavender. But I only got in the outlines in before the teacher called us back to get to our next junior classes.

I looked around at the new chaos of movement, like ants that might get stepped on if the don't move any faster.

Now, was the best time to ditch.

Standing, while closing my book, I walked through the maze of people towards the outer gate which was empty of people, more or less. I walked along it behind a classroom building and climbed the fence with my backpack balanced on my back so it won't fall off once it was only hanging on one shoulder and pulled my self over the top and jumped down landing on the side walk with a light pain at the bottom of my feet because of how I landed.

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It was a long two hour walk through the side streets of the busy city to get to the outer rims of town.

The drive way was empty, as always.

Mom wouldn't be home tell really late because of her jobs, she worked three jobs.

Mom, my older sister, and I lived here together in a very small house. It had three shack-like bedrooms and a living room that was connected to the kitchen, we didn't have a garage, and we lived right on the outskirts of my mountain, which is only about a mile from my Forrest.

Walking inside I layed my almost-empty backpack on the dining room table. And opened the fridge door looking for whatever is left of last nights dinner.

It was only 11:52 am, plus it was friday. So I had time to eat and get out of the house before sis came home from school then left to work soon after.

After eating and relacing my shoes I packed my sketchpad into my backpack and left as happy as can be.