I walked down the hall dying to write my emotions on paper. Letting them leave my head giving me room to focus. My teachers gave me assignment after assignment then homework on top of that, filling up my time. But I walking into the gym and leaned my head on the white walls as the teacher announced our freedom. Then with my pen in hand it all spilled from my head as the white paper became marked. It was as easy as breathing how my pen moved and words formed, painting a picture.

My talent colored the pages of my yellow lined notebook as the words faded into colors and images. I kept writing getting excited to find out what my mind had come up with throughout the school day. But soon the black ink became lighter. Soon my pen became drier as my words covered page after page. I wrote the last word and my pen had died leaving my pictures to fade back to words.

I reread my work not happy with it just like yesterday's entry. I had keep it and learned from it. Other's will never read it or every critic it.The picture that I had thought was beautiful wasn't worth displaying anymore. So it stays in my notebook with my emotions neatly tucked away in it's pages. I closed the book and sighed once more waiting for tomorrow, for my chance to start again.