Missing Paris

Dear Paris, I still think about you sometimes.

I think about all the good times, all the awkward times, all the times I was late to meet you. I still think about how good you were for me and how I might not have been too good to you. I know I left a while ago and I'm sorry I still haven't said goodbye I just can't find the words. But know I do miss you and this is not my final goodbye

III VI XVI

   my life has been different lately.
i feel different and so does everything else.
the way i see things,
the way you talk to us,
all the familiar faces,
it all just seems different these past couple months.
and
i still dont know if different is good
when youre little they tell you it is 
but who are they and what the hell do they know about being different.
this is my second to last blog post probably ever
and im wasting it on something ive already written about.
its almost time for me to go and im terrified i wont even be able to leave.
my life has been different lately 
and i think its ruining me.

Mash Game

Love stuff and maybe hate stuff too

I don't miss you. 

I mean I do but not in that way. 

Yes I think about you every now and then, how you used to be mine and I yours

But what I really think about is having you.

Having someone there 

Having someone to wake up to and fall asleep to.

Having that forever lasting happy feeling just from looking at another person. 

I miss having that. 

But not necessarily with you

Yes you made me happy 

But I can see now it wasn't as good of a happy as it could have been 

You're a lot happier and I want to get to that point too 

I miss having someone 

Anyone

Having the feeling that everything is going to be alright 

The feeling that you'll always be there when I need you, which lets be honest is always I'm a helpless mess. 

I miss having the random meaningless conversations awaiting to be forgotten 

I miss the places I can no longer go without thinking of you 

I don't miss your laugh or your eyes cause they made me cry

I don't miss the nights that followed it all. 

I don't miss the thoughts that ran through my mind 

Over and over 

And over 

And over. 

The thing that scares me is how real it all felt and how it's completely different now. 

I thought I meant what I said but that was all bullshit. 

Bullshit. 

Bullshit. 

Bullshit!!

But it scares me cause how am I supposed to know when it's real. 

Is it ever real?

I miss the memories and the ideas 

The x's and o's

I miss so much and still so little. 

I miss the cute little gifts 

The notes and texts. 

I miss the reminder that everything will be okay. 

I miss the lazy days together 

And all the giggles, tears, and z's in between. 

I miss that. 

Not you. 

Sofar Sounds

I couldn't pick one. Sorry Nelson

One more time

This is my long term project, my second wife's diary, my vol.II, and my way to keep busy. Its hard for me to start over my journal. Last semester I put a lot of work into my journal because I had no other homework in any class and idk if it was all for the better, but it meant a lot to me and this time I feel like Ive set my bar too high, I'm leaving so I probably won't finish it, and I'm not going to write or create like an "advanced" student, which is why I hate art and hate that people know I do art stuff, because then they expect me to do things when really I can't. I want to try and put more words than art crap in it this time around but I'm afraid I'm off to a bad start and I can speak easier through my "art". So here we go again.

 CWI

CWII

I never said goodbye

I procrastinated saying goodbye to Paris last semester to the point where I never even got the chance to because I'm already back. Ive never been good at goodbye's or hello's as cliche as it sounds. so here's me, Callen Clarissa Davis, two days short of 18 years and 31 days of high school left, yet not a single clue who I am, other than a procrastinator, or where I am going. No I'm not good at writing poetry or sharing in front of people and I am even worse at blogging, yet I'm here back in Paris for round two, so sorry if that pisses you off cause your best friend didn't make it in the class and they're an "amazing" writer, but you're stuck with me for 16 more class periods, 21.37 more hours, 1,282 more minutes, 7 more blog posts, and maybe if I get the courage to you'll have to sit through a journal jam or two and listen to my words just for a couple of minutes. This is my goodbye disguised as a hello

Blowing Smoke

Inhale;
Take it in even without knowing.
Take it in and make it your own
Learning the ways of others
Picking up new habits like a little kid picking up pinata candy.
But what you don't know is that its killing you inside.
Getting stuck in your lungs and killing the butterflies that grow in your stomach before they even have time to hatch.
You are sick.
Sick beyond a sore throat and runny nose.
Sick inside.
Poisoned from the rumors and thoughts of those around you floating in the air like second hand smoke.
You wont find this in the book of diseases
No doctor will be able to diagnose you.
All that's left is the smoke you whispered that night and your blind fear.
Exhale and it's over.
Exhale and you're gone.
Exhale and it wasn't even your fault.
Exhale...it's too late.

Remembering what once was (again)

I remember already writing an I remember post earlier in the semester but I changed it a little this time so here we go again


I remember the first time I tried coffee.
I remember how I hated the taste of it.
Now I drink it every day. Ironic?

I remember the songs we listened to in the car on our first date.
I remember when you held my had for the first time and the first time you made me truly smile.
I remember the gifts you brought me when I was having a bad day. I still have them and I hate that.
I remember staying up till 2 or 3 in the morning listening to your soothing voice talk to me through the phone about anything and everything.
I remember the day I fucked it all up. And how I regret the choice I made still to this day.
I remember you vividly.

I remember the girl I used to be, even more shy than I am now.
I remember feeling so alone, like nobody could ever get in and help me out.

I remember it was around 4am, Saturday December 23rd, 2006 when we arrived.
I remember it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere.
I remember the long drive to that strange new place I'd soon call home.
I remember not having any food there yet, so breakfast that morning was Krispy Kreme doughnuts and a gallon of OJ to share.
I remember how much I missed Arizona and its snowless winters.
I remember my friends I left behind.
I remember starting over.

I remember the day I stopped believing in Santa Clause.
I remember it wasn't my parents who told me but my best friend.
I remember how devastated I was.
I remember addressing my Christmas list to mom instead of Santa that year.
I remember that year as the year Christmas lost it's magic.

I remember when I used to run to my dad when he got home from work trips and give him a big hug.
I remember how happy I was when he would be home for a whole day.
Not anymore.
Now I remember him getting home once I've already fallen asleep.
and I remember waking up to find him already gone.
He travels by the moon and never stays in one state for more than a couple days at a time.
And I remember I live in fear of the moon.

I remember when school was counting to ten, taking long naps, yummy snacks, and recess.
I remember my first grade teachers last name.
I remember all the grown ups telling me I could be anything when I grew up.
I remember wanting to be a doctor. That dream died quick.

I remember wondering why I was getting a text late at night from someone on student council who I didn't know anymore.
I remember when Rhonda came on the announcements the next morning saying something terrible has happened and our teachers have something to read explaining it.
I remember how they all said they missed him even though they didn't really know him.
I remember thinking he was one of the happy kids who never had those thoughts,
although I didn't really know him either.
I remember the beautiful dresses and neat suits everyone wore.
I remember that awful day.
I remember I wished I hadn't come to school that day.

I remember waking up and falling asleep.
and I remember everything in between.

I remember braces, sadly.
I remember how smooth, yet slimy they felt when I got them off.
I remember the first time I went to get them tightened; I got power chains.
I remember how much I hated getting power chains.
At lest now I have straight teeth,
as long as I wear my retainer at night.

I remember the first movie I cried in.
I remember where all the scars on my body are from.
I remember stapling my finger.
I remember the day I decided to be vegetarian and why.
I remember my first phone, the sliding kind.
I remember piercing my own ears.
I remember crying the night before the first day of high school.
I remember the awful feeling I had inside when taking my first pregnancy test.
I remember when Greggory Parr asked me out in the 9th grade right before we got stoned.
I remember the awful hair cut I gave myself when I was 5.
I remember the trees that smelt like froot loops in Arizona.
I remember waking up next to him new years day.
I remember when people started caring what others thought of them.
I remember playing volleyball, soccer, softball, tennis, gymnastics and giving it all up for art.
I remember..
I remember...
I remember....
I remember.....

I remember when my sister used to tell me I suck and that she hates me on a daily basis.
I remember crying softly to myself every night hoping mommy wouldn't hear so when I told her I was alright the next day she'd believe me regardless of my puffy eyes.
But I remember when she was one one who cried from almost losing her little girl.

I may not seem like I'm always listening, but I will remember.

This one is for you

I took all of Last of The Mohicans blog posts and took parts of them to create this. I know the assignment was just to pick one but I couldn't so I picked them all. Sorry if this isn't good enough or long enough I ran out of time. 

I found a letter on the floor. It wasn't for me but I read it anyway

And it said

"Remember. Remember that you need a break every now 

and then to figure things out and just stare at the flame face to face"

I need to figure out who I really am because the past 18 

years of my hard earned true grit life 

My mom has told me I can be whoever I want to be 

but the police call it identity theft

But Nelson is saying its thinking creatively 

And why is that?

Sorry this post doesn't do your blog any justice. There's just so much I can say but so little I'm willing to let myself say. I wish we would have all just revealed at the beginning like you because your blog got more real after that. I loved how your posts would always be different. You are very divergent Grant.


P.s. I love how you aren't scared to get up in front of the class and say whatever's on your mind.
I wish I was more like you in that way

P.p.s. You are not Luke. And that is not a bad thing. 

The words in between

Released in death

The creation of the problem was not filed with the police as of Tuesday.

Every choice includes thousands of views that allow bones to sin.

Come and suffer problems to change choices and save solutions.

Police departments seeks new out.

A black fire created a new body.

The makers put the medication on medications to be treated.

Death surfaced.

Everyone is saying it emerged for time.

3Killed: The man of killing unleashed the rampage of murder.

Many who stand with force need tougher pressure.

Secrets take action.

All 17-year olds have transparent days.

His trust had eroded.

Secrets Unravled

Everyone is so worried about revealing pen names and all the secrets that come with including me because I won't want to post on here anymore and none of it will be the same, all of our secrets will no longer be secrets they'll just be more words on our blog or hidden away in our journals for only Nelson to see. If only we could have hidden behind them in class too maybe I would have shared more. I guess it's time to start telling the truth but I don't think anyone really cares if Clarissa McCall does and I don't exactly know how to start this or what I am going to say but here goes nothing.

I am known as the quiet awkward girl who's name you don't even know with or without the pen names,
I am a native Texan, I think cold is better than hot, I usually have too much caffeine in me for one body, I am one of  8 in my family, I pierced my own ears cause my mom told me no, I procrastinate everything including this, I live in fear of the man in the moon, I'm a half assed artist, I moved here December 23 2006, I've buried my heart, I hate when people touch my elbows, I'm more worried about my future than I am about boys, clothes, or social media, I'm Aquarius, rejection is my biggest fear, I have dark hair pale skin and blue eyes, I don't have a favorite anything, I am the girl that Nelson made share at the last journal jam, I'm vegetarian and hate when people give me crap about it, I've played many sports but quit them all when I moved here, and I hide behind a 2"x5" screen. 

I've told you all of this and still none of you know who I am. 
I'll see you all on Monday and maybe some of you will have read this and maybe not.
But everyone will have been revealed
 and class will be different 

I didn't plan to be another sad blogger it all just kinda happened
I thought a new name meant a new me
but
I guess whether I'm me or Clarissa McCall I think the same

I have many different names
Past friends have called me chibs and wheelz

Teachers call me Carsens little sister

Spell check calls me a spelling error
Anyone reading my name calls me the wrong thing
In ninth grade I was called best eyes 
Instagram use to call me stupidpeasantchildren but I grew out of that and now its just kalicdavis

The beans and brews crew call me the carmel cielo and dirty chi

I want to be called a tattoo artist some day

When I was little my family called me calliebear
Last year he called me his girl
and I call myself Kali

 But despite all that I've been called, my birth certificate reads
 Callen Clarissa Davis

 but I am still Clarissa McCall.

Songs my mom doesn't want me listening to

Pretty much everything and anything on my phone. It's almost impossible to ride in the car with you mom.



This topic is one of my least favorite. It is too broad and yet I have nothing to say about it. I'm sorry to anyone who wasted their time.

I Am A Lost Boy

I am a lost boy at heart. Lost in Neverland and I never want to come back. My heart has plans for me here in this place I now call home. It tells me about its love for pixy dust and the unimaginble. Although all my heart really wants is to find its Wendy Darling, someone to call my own. But we all know the story and I am no Peter Pan.

-Forever a lost boy 

Expose

Do not fully expose yourself. But don't keep yourself hidden from the beautiful adventures life has in store for you. Expose others for who they really are not all this fake shit we are all hiding behind and see them clearly just like you did ten years ago when we were all the real us. We need to break out of theese shells we came with and allow ourselves to be subjected to changed and forget about the pain that may or may not come with. Just thinking of the deconstrucion of our world worrys me and I worry that I have not yet finished anything, I worry that I have worn out the phrase "I'm sorry" till it no longer has a meaning when it comes to apologies. Expose yourself along with all your worries and fix them because soon you might be out of time or too late. Maybe it's already too late but don't let that possiblity keep you from anything because maybe it's not.

the man in the moon

I live in fear of the man in the moon. Fear that I will "fall down the stairs". Fear that I do it wrong again. Fear that what I say won't be good enough for him. I fear his crooked smile, his glowing eyes,  and that eerie feeling I get when he's around me. Even when he's gone I fear him because I can't shake the feeling that he's always looking down on me. Every time he leaves I pray he won't come back but I know for a fact he's only hours away from showing up again. There's no escaping him. I'm caught in this loop of doing something wrong and getting punished by him. If I dare tell a soul they wouldn't believe me. I mean who would believe the moon could do something like this. Who would believe the moon could leave a mark. "He's the moon he's such a nice guy and I've never seen him do anything bad to anyone." One day I'll find a place far enough away where the moon can not reach me. There I will feel safe. There I will feel something other than fear. I will no longer live in fear of the moon. 

My Brick Wall

My brick wall is composed of 583 bricks and counting. Yes some bricks may be older, smaller than others, or lost some of their coloring, but they still stand strong together. Brick no. 106 has the names of all the people who have helped me in my hard times. No. 31- family and friends of course. No. 497- people who smile at their phones for who knows what reason. No. 127- getting popcorn at the movies. Each one makes me happier and builds up my wall to stop the bad things mom was talking about back in 5th grade. Each day my wall gets stronger than ever. There's no breaking it down only stalling the build up.

Sister

My sister and I are were close. So what went wrong? What changed between now and then? Has it really been all those years..

I miss the late afternoons walking home from school singing those silly songs and talking about the things that don't matter to adults. I miss the nights laying in bed talking back and forth in our room. I miss playing dress up and doing exactly as you do cause that's what little sisters do. They see the best in their older siblings and think they're extraordinary. All they want to do is be exactly like the older one. 

That's not how I see you anymore. 

I know sisters fight but not like this.
Sisters aren't supposed to call each other dirty names and make eachother cry this much. Whenever they say I'm like you in school it makes me want to punch something. I don't want to be like you. You are no longer my extraordinary big sister.

Some might think this is a shitty depressing post but it's the truth

 I still want to be your sister, but you don't want what I do.
 And now I'm starting to want what you want. 

Last Minute

i dont even know. i hate being asked too many questions. it just makes me feel like im being attacked. i hate when you make fun of something i accidentally said. i dont like how we always have to talk. i dont like how when i say im sad you wont accept that i just am, there always has to be a reason with you. i'm done with people pretending to be when all they want is to get something like money, food, popularity, sex, etc. i'm done. i am sick of it all.

More shitty and more confusing than usual. im sorry.

All You Need Is Love

I can't help it I'm Falling In Love With You and with the idea of you. Love Is On Top in my world and now I think I truly am Lovin' You because you are my Shooting Star. My love for you is Unforgettable, it's that Baby Love you read about in books and see in the movies. You are my Kiss From A Rose.

Yet, you always find a reason to go, works taking you away, parents are telling you this and that, but my love for you has no distance limit, there Ain't No Mountain High Enough to keep me away, and your Parents Just Don't Understand  what you are to me. You've got me beggin you, "Oh Darling please Lets Stay Together, I know we can make it through this." My Heart Will Go On but it will never be the same, not since you told me You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'.  I miss coming home to your lovely voice telling me "I Need Your Love" and me replying "I Got You Babe" but times have changed, you are gone, and there's no telling when you will be Back In My Arms Again.

Baby I'm All Out of Love for anyone but you because I Will Always Love You, and when you're ready to come back I'll Be There cause there is this Crazy Little Thing Called Love and its bringing you back to me. So the next time you go please remember that I will love you Here, There and Everywhere.

P.S. I Love You.