I thought my room was a safe haven

I cant wake up from this nightmare I'm living

I thought her kisses were innocent

Her touch only loving.

And now my limbs are bleeding

But its less painful than this feeling 

I have inside my head. 

The 5 year old in my mind is lost and directionless

Empty.

I am so empty. 

And these work bathrooms are not a good place to 

cry, but its better than telling someone 

why Id kill to say goodbye. 

You must be very brave though..

I keep wondering what would have happened

if I had woken up 

would I have been saved?

.

.

.

It snowed Christmas morning

And you all exchanged gifts,

Opened presents, and showed your love

Oh how I wish that was my case.

But all I have received since Christmas day

Are memories I found out I wasn't even awake for. 

And how horrifying it is to try and conjure

Up these visions against my will. 

Sleep evades me. 

my compass a constant spin..

Denial has run away with my voice box

While betrayal has a cold pistol pressed 

against my brain. 

Just a child

Stripped of innocence without even knowing it

I beg of you to please pull the plug for me

It's been draining me with each passing day.

And mommy, I don't want to scare you

But I can feel my skin turning cold

My mind is wasting away

And this freshly old news is slicing my eyes

to the point where all I see left in this world

Is red.

And the worst part is 

I've been afraid to go to bed

And you aren't even here.

Finale revised

I think I missed the rush for all the reveals, and now no one will see who I am.


oh well.

In the beginning of this year, I asked Nelson if my pen name could be "Sexual Fetus".

I was declined. 

 I'm glad I chose my name to be Flat Stanley because (as cheesy as it sounds) 

It's become part of who I am.  Thank the lord "Sexual Fetus" didn't become part of me.

Creative writing is the most valuable thing I think I'll ever get out of high school.

I have always hid who I am, in fear of rejection. 

Nelson, you showed me that it is perfectly okay to be weird.

because I'm going to die one day anyways, right?

 9:15-10:39

saved my life.  Thank you Kyle.

Thanks for influencing me more than any other person I have come in contact with Kyle,

and putting me in the top 5..that was friggen sweet. 

Thank you to: Polly Baker, Jane Q. porter, Charolette Rose, James C. Mckay, Elizabeth Grant,

Sgt. Pepper, Alice S. Blackwell, Leroy, and anyone else I forgot. 

You guys always stuck around to read my mediocre posts, and always left comments

that made my day. Thank you. 

I am 5'4" with a 6'0" personality. 

I pierced my belly button at a tattoo shop and my parents still don't know (shhhh) 

My green eyes are a little too big for my face.

My hair closely resembles that of a winter storm (Silver....) I want to take this time to

thank Cornelia Boom for posting "the year of no mistakes" on twitter, when I was deciding

whether or not to dye it silver. thanks Cornelia. 

And shoutout to James C. Mckay for piercing my ear in a starbucks parking lot the other day.

I could sit here and tell you all about how I love laughing, and how my 

favorite food is Thai. I could tell you that I am scared of picking up chickens, 

and I get nauseated when people touch my knees. I could tell you all about that time 

I jumped off a bridge naked, or how the Edward Scissorhands soundtrack makes me cry.

I could tell you how I fell in love, and unfortunately have been permanently messed up from it.

I could tell you about these scars.

I could even go on for hours on end about how much I love special effects makeup,

And how it has literally saved my life. I could tell you about how it helps me

to escape from being "Micah Mehlhoff" for awhile. Because I didn't like being me.

But I wont bore you.

.

.

.

I have good news that I will tell you guys about though..

I finally love myself. 

Thanks Guys.




Sincerely, Flat Stanley.

its interesting to you because it came from my heart?

Dear Nelson, 
         

                        I'm sorry for mostly only writing sad things on my blog. 

                     I know we're supposed to  have both sides, but I only get inspiration when I'm down.

And I don't know if that makes me a crappy writer, or a limited one. 

But either way, I'm sorry I lack versatility. 

Dear mountain boy,  

You better keep going to bed before I eat my dinner. 

 You better keep guarding your music like its your life source. 

You better move on from last year.

Because everyone says you're a lot more closed off than you used to be..

But I don't judge you because hey, I'm sitting in the same boat with you. 

I admire when people are closed off. It makes me feel less alone.

but

You keep doing you, because you deserve to have an angel inside your arms, and not a demon.

One that will love you for exactly the outstanding person you are. 

Dear dad, 

You are not my father. 

You are not her spouse. 

You decided to dig your way out of our hearts from the beginning, 

so don't expect to crawl back through the hole you made in us

.

.

 when you're on your death bed. 

Because i'm going to tell you right now, that this hole will be gone.

stitched up. closed off.  Forever. 

and I refuse to let a filthy corpse decay inside my heart. 

So I'll be on my way, you've got bottles and lung exercises that need tending to.

Dear Snake, 

I hope you're satisfied. 

because you have the power to create bruises that can never heal.

and I hope god does not have mercy on your soul,

because he is the only one who knows what you did.

he may be the only one to ever know, but I guess thats good enough for me. 

and I cant wait until you are just a faded memory on my skin. 

Dear God, 

I'm sorry. 

you asked me about the sun

It comes suddenly, with a swift step that only your mothers intuition could hear,

Embedding itself inside your thinning bones.


You remember. 

You remember. 

It's glamorized cloak envelops your core, and whispers its version of "sweet nothings" into your ears.

Your mind has shattered, and your fingers shed tears as they try to put humpty together again.

The precious colorful juices ooze from your broken brain, and the world you live in fades to that all familiar gray.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember staring at the world, convinced that nothing was real.

I can vividly recall the feeling,

like  I had been cut out of one of the pages in a picture book,

 only to be  re-stuck with Elmer's glue. 

I remember that day.

I remember walking down that hallway and turning the corner,

you wore a necklace made from rope.

And the silent sway enhanced my surrounding gray,

as I choked on my saltwater tears all that day.

and ill never forget the way the loneliness caressed your ear with its tongue.

"It's only a dream" I say. Its time to get up and start my day.

.

.

.

you've all got blindfolds made from daisies covering your eyes,

And I hate to be a burden, but I seem to have lost mine. 

the sun has fried my eyes, mostly with baby blue goodbyes, and chocolate coated lies.

But I still find the time to offer out my dry cracked palms, 

I've found my wrists sting less when I try to defuse everyone else's ticking time bombs.