"Waiting for Superman" by Daughtry   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pbT3uvOl3Dk

We all are tempted to just wait for that hero to help us out. But sometimes, you need to be your own hero. So don't wait around for pity. Get up the best you can and keep limping on in life. Someone will come the be your crutch eventually.

Masquerade (a short writing piece)

Short paragraph I decided to write tonight. Hope you enjoy it.

      We're all born with a mask in our hand and heart. Maybe we don't recognize it, or maybe we don't know it's there, but sooner or later, you find out. It seems so simple and habitual though, to swiftly swipe on that mask, covering your face. The mask may seem so, so very very pretty too. Maybe it's frilly, or covered in laces, or made of leather, or checkered. Maybe, it's just oh, so shiny and beautiful, that you decide you want to keep it. After all, it makes your face and heart look so much better, right? But, after while, maybe, just maybe, you'll notice that the mask, is actually, quite ugly. At least, the idea of it is. People only notice the sparkle and glow of your mask, not your actual face. All the tons and tons of compliments you get, are they really for you, or are they only for the mask? It's like that mask, that beautiful mask you were born with, is taking over you, and your true colors. So, you decide to take the mask off. But, then again, things are easier said, than done. The mask is like your one, horribly bad habit, the kind where, no matter what, you can't get rid of it. Every time a new person comes along, you find yourself whisking on that mask again, unconsciously. It's a part of you now. You can't just let go of your mask, and let it fall to the ground. But you try, you just keep trying and trying and trying. There's nothing else you can do, after all. And maybe, one day, with a lot of effort, you'll finally be able to set your mask down onto that coffee table by your door, and never go back to get it. Maybe. Just maybe.

Inspire by what I see and what i feel defines our lives, practically. We all have masks. But they aren't like the kind Romeo and Juliet wore at a party, or the kind you wear for fun. No, these are invisible masks, ones that hide your real personality instead of your face. But should you really let a huge cover up control your life? Think about it. Truly consider it. Do you want a lie to be YOU?
I thought of that, a while back, one night. Ever since, I've been trying really hard to let my mask drop. So, think about it. I'm not saying that you have to, I'm not saying everyone should. Maybe you are really happy with your mask. And if that is the case, go ahead, I encourage you. Just remember, you should never, ever, have to be someone you don't want to be. 

-With great personal philosophy,
               LaMusicFreak

Fixed, But Broken

Hey! Second story I'm going to post up here, and it might become the sequel or prequel to my other story, The Phoenix Revolt, or it might be just a separate short story. But either way, here it is! It's also work in progress, so sorry. But still comment and give any suggestions!

Fixed but Broken

                Sometimes the hardest decision is whether or not the road you’re walking is the correct one or not. It’s like you always meeting a fork in the road. But which one is the correct path to take? The one on the right or the one on the left? And, after you choose a path, did you choose the right one or not? How can you tell, if you don’t know where you’re heading in the first place?

                The name’s Ivy. No last name needed. I don’t have one anyways. I wander the streets here, in this small town, off the edge of the Great Empire capitol. Hate that place. It’s so full of happy people who think everything’s perfect in the world. They think that they’re helping all the rest of us just by donating some money here and there. Stupid idiots. I don’t need money, and I don’t want money. What I want is someone I can actually trust. Who doesn't think I’m a street-rat. But who cares. If they want to judge me, they can do what they want. They don’t matter. Barely anything matters anymore.

                It was raining. Again. Yeah, there was a storm for the millionth time this week. Both physically and emotionally. I trudged slowly down the flooded street, barely feeling the muddy, freezing water slide silkily around my ankles. The water was already up to my ankles, and it was still steadily rising. Yesterday, the water ended up at mid-calf. Why did this rainy town also have to be at the bottom of a steep valley? Sighing, I looked up at the dusty gray sky. No stars as usual. I halted in my steps. Stars…

It seemed like so long ago. Back when there was warmth, and love. Before all this happened. Back when I was still a child. I vaguely remember a pair of soft arms, carrying me up, up higher and higher, so I could try and reach the stars. But now, the stars had left, each and every one of them, along with those soft arms. I shook my head vigorously. No use looking behind if it won’t bring anything back.

I wandered down the street for a while, until I found some stone steps that were above the water at least a couple of inches. It would keep me dry for the night. I closed my eyes, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep.

“Well, what do we have here?” a voice mused.

Groaning, I looked up to see an older girl staring at me with a smirk on her face. She was wearing simple clothes, a pair of colorless pants and a shirt, both of which had some strange looking holes scattered about on it. A smirk adorned her face.

“Well girlie, what are you lying around for? Come on in? We’ll get you dry sooner if you do you know.”

I just stared at her retreating back. She had stopped in the middle of a tiny courtyard, which led to a tiny cottage house made of wood. The wood was old but sturdy looking. Her head was turned to the side a little, so I could only see part of her face. She motioned with her long and skinny arms for me to follow. Hesitantly, I did as she told.

The inside of the cottage was just like the outside. Dim, and small, but oddly warm and cozy. A dark hallway led from this room we just entered to somewhere unknown. A small fire was flickering in the corner, with two cushioned chairs messily placed around it. The girl patted one of the chairs, and I cautiously sat down in it. She dragged the other chair over and sat down next to me.

She scrutinized me while I stared at this strange, faded scar that was on her left wrist, right where a person would normally wear a bracelet.

Suddenly, she turned around and yelled towards the hallway, “Brandon, get over here!” so loud that I flinched. After a minute or so, shuffling noises and groaning could be heard getting steadily louder down the hall. Soon, a boy, about the same age as the girl, tripped into the room. A wrinkled white shirt and a pair of baggy gray pants hung on him as he rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Yawning, he asked, “What’s wrong Silv?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “If you actually opened your eyes, you would know.”

Mumbling something incoherent under his breath, he looked up from the ground, and gasped.

“A kid girl! What?!”

Rolling her eyes again, the girl replied, “I found her sleeping on our front steps. She looks half starved to death, she’s wet, it’s cold out there, and she has obviously been living out on the streets, so I decided to bring her inside.”

“She looks like you did back then! Well, excluding the fact that she has black eyes, where as you has caramel colored eyes.”

“Bingo. She looks smart too.”

I just sat there, watching the two of them interact.

The boy's face suddenly paled, and he gave a short yelp.
"Silv, you can't be thinking of that, can you?"
The girl just smirked in amusement.
"You panic too much, Brandon. Why not?"
"Are you kidding me?! That's one of the craziest ideas you've ever had! I thought you were just joking!"
I kept staring. It was similar to watching two people playing ball, back and forth.

The Phoenix Revolt

What's up! This is my latest story I've been working on, please read and comment! Suggestions would help! It's just the beginning, so it might be a little confusing. The main plot is a poor teenage girl has been rallying up the villagers to rebel against the cruel, greedy Emperor, but her plans completely change when a boy, the Emperor's son, finds out her identity, and volunteers to help. The story takes place in an alternate universe, where it's like a mix between ancient China and other places in the world.

Brrong………

The gong echoed throughout the valley, signalling another long, cruel day of grueling work. Reluctantly, the villagers one by one lined up and stumbled to the fields to further dig holes and plant seeds. However, one shadow slithered away from the fields, sneaking between narrow spaces between walls, until it reached a small, rickety shed in the middle of unwanted wooden furniture suspiciously moved around so it was somewhat organized. A small, lithe silhouette slid into the shed without a sound, and disappeared.

Meanwhile, up at the very top of the huge, blood red and bright gold palace, a very different scene was taking place.

“WHAT!!! How dare they!” a deep voice roared. The sound echoed throughout the enormous, golden room bouncing off the deep, crimson colored velvet walls.

“B-b-but sir, i-it is o-only a r-rumor f-f-for now. We c-can still put and end to it,” a nervous man stuttered out. A bead of nervous perspiration could almost be seen dripping from his bowed head down to the marble tiles below. It was a skinny young man who was dressed much too lavishly for someone his age. The heavy hat, droopy robes, and the pointless, extremely long gold beads around his neck made him look as though he was a little girl, dressing up in mommy’s clothes, pretending to be royalty. It was, as you may imagine, quite the ridiculous look.

The other man snorted. He was a large man, not exactly wide, per say, but huge overall. Black and gold satin robes hung from his awkward figure, while he lounged lazily in his deep red throne. “A rumor, you might say, but soon it will be true, you fool,” he drawled.

The younger man had no response.

The man snorted again. “Leave! Now! Go do something more worthwhile instead of bowing here, stuttering your head off! And, you, boy, get over here. I have another mission for you.”

The young man quickly an off, and a new young man, one on the brink of manhood, but still young enough to be considered a boy, stepped out from behind the throne, and took his place.