Just had English class, recited 2 pages from Gilgamesh. When I found out about this assignment a week ago, I thought I would never be able to memorize and recite with good expression. Well, I memorized it, but I never understood what it was about. A guy who is dying, talking to his best friend... But while reciting it to my English Lit. teacher, I suddenly realized how deep and beautiful it is. On the edge of dying he still talked beautiful language, full sentences instead of brief words.

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My pain is that my eyes and ears no longer see or hear the way yours do...

You are crying

You've never cried before

It's not like you...

Why am I to die???

You to wonder on alone???

Is that the way it is with friends?

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You won't believe me, but I cried in the end. Not my fake cry, no, real, warm, salty tears escaped my eyes to run down my blushing cheeks and drip off my trembling lips.

I know, I dramatize my life too much, but that's the way poets are. We write when we are sad, and if we are not, we make ourselves miserable. I am pretty good at it. The worst part is that it affects my real life, and my relationships, and people around just think I'm incredibly weird. But I'm not. I am not like everybody else, I have creative soul, I'd rather stay home and write a poem than drive around and drink beer. That is why most of the people I know say I'm way too mature for a girl who just turned 15. Am I?..

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