My Epic Life

I didn't know where to post this, like in stories or poems... but since it is written in verse-ish here goes nothing:

The term "good morning" means
absolutely nothing. It isn't good after
the pointless time change that for some
reason unbeknown to me,
at the very least, still occurs at the
worst of times.
Isn't the time change supposed to
give us more light instead of hiding our
mornings in darkness? That's what
I always thought it was
supposed to be for, but I guess
not. And what is the point
anyway? We have street lights now
and farmers can alight their fields
or at the very least use a
flashlight, and cars have lights too
so we can all see, and no one should
have to give up an hour
of sleep just to appease an old
tradition.
I would rather just sleep, if you
don't mind. Sleep would be
a million times better than
going to school where I will not learn a
new damn thing. I will sit
in a classroom, not talking
unless asked for an answer which
may or may not be wrong and
I'll wait for lunch to sit in my
mom's classroom and eat
fruit and cheese and then continue
to get fat by doing nothing,
and wait out the rest of the day.

Nice Day light savings can definitely be a pain!

Oh yeah ~.~

Flipping through the pages of my new
favorite book I wonder why
I ever stopped reading this fast. What could have
possibly changed in me so much?
Was it the time? Was it trying to conform
to a new style of literature to enjoy
when all I wanted to do was
read the same old type of books that
I started loving since I first opened up a book
that started at Number 4 Privet Drive where
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were proud to say they were
normal, thank you very much?
That might be it... or time... time is a huge
possibility in my case because
of AP English. We have to read classics to pass
the AP test in order to get a college credit
to avoid taking the first college English they
would offer.
But the rush, oh the rush! I can't explain
the rush I get when I read a book full of action,
love,
mystery,
control,
power,
strength,
heart,
choices,
death...
It burns through my soul and I wish I could
jump into the book and take the place of
the one telling the story. I think I could be
Tris if I really tried. I could be Dauntless,
Euridite, and Abnegation, making me
Diverget.
Sometimes, I want the life of the
story.

I think I'm slowly ruining
any chance of ever having a good relationship
with my older sister. I'm pretty sure
that when she hits me in the side
or knocks into me
or uses words like "lazy" to describe me
she really wishes that she were stabbing me
or hitting me in the face
or making me immoble so that I couldn't do anything
back.
This morning, I talked back to her.
I was washing my face, or at least preparing to when
she walked into the bathroom and asked
if she could use the bathroom. Now,
she has her own bathroom and it is the same
distance away from the kitchen as
ours is, and it was empty. I wonder why she decided to
use the one upstairs instead of her own;
maybe to get a rise out of me?
Anyway, I said no and she got really mad
and on her way out of the bathroom, she ran
purposfully into me. I turned and looked at her and asked,
"Why are you such so mean, and horrible, and abusive?"
With that, she angrily turned out the light on me
and stomped away. That was one of the first times I've ever
said exactly what I felt when she did something
like that to me.
I still haven't told her exactly how it makes me feel though.
I fear her wrath. I don't always feel safe talking to her.