Scattered Through The Pages


Looking through my own journals I’m overcome with waves of emotion from the last few years. Hate, love, sorrow, hope and exhaustion plagued the workings of my mind so forcefully and so thoroughly. I feel so much in such a little slice of time that I find myself nearing the self destruct button over and over and over again.

Let’s be honest, some of the entries here, let alone my personal journal frustrate me in their lack of or over absorption of depth. That’s okay though. It’s personal growth. Inner evolution, if you will. I can accept my useless blabber because I understand it differently.

I remember feeling so incredibly down for such a long period of time that I just could not take it. I suffered horribly and mostly silently. It was only through half suppressed tears and scribbles on paper that it showed. If my journals could talk they would probably tell you that my words simply screamed ‘help me’ across each and every page.

Like i said though, it wasn’t all bad. I had moments of hype, moments of absolute bliss. They inevitably came crashing down harshly around me, but they were there.

I’m not sure why I’m saying any of this, or if any of you care, but I just felt like I needed to. I needed to get a few thoughts out there.


Angelina Rosa, writing diligently for you, Writingdilegently


Inner City Kid.


I grew up in a bit of a box that I ‘ll call the inner city. Its not to be confused with a small town in the middle of nowhere, no its far too big. I’ve lived here my whole life, aside from little vacations here and there. If you take it for face value you would rush right out of it and into the actual ‘city’, the part of the state with buildings that eat up the sky. I’ve had the option to go somewhere else, to go anywhere else, but I kinda like being an inner city kid.

Yes, it has its downfalls. Even in the nicest of areas you’re sure to pass by a drugged up homeless man or a toothless old woman. You’re friends will know the name of every type of drug regardless they’ve tried it or not and your teachers will almost certainly be from out of state. The kids are certainly rough around the edges, even the academic ones. Oh, and you can bet on never being able to relate to mainstream high school movies.

In my mind, the perks out weigh all this. The perk is that, when you have friends they will almost always stand by you. The perk is that no matter what you have so many people to learn from. The perk is that the outer city is just a few train stops away if you want to explore somewhere new. The perk is that you become more street smart. The perk is that you get to surprise people when they assume you speak in vernacular expression but you actually have an uninhibited range of brilliant dictation.

The perk is that you have a place that you can call home and you can talk to people with open minds.

The greatest perk of all, is that a day never gets dull.

I’m proud to be an inner city kid.


Angelina Rosa, Diligently Writing for you, WritingDilegently

Showing Myself: entry 8


For a long while, college wasn’t on my radar. Just enjoy today right now as a kid. That was my motto. I don’t really need college for what I want to do. That was my thought. College degrees aren’t garenteeing that you’ll get a job. That was my logic.
I’m going to be honest, those are still things I think today. But I also see college in a different way. I want it for the education, not the degree. I want to go for the experience. I like learning. I like it a whole lot. So why should I halt my education because my artistic side doesn’t actually “need it”?
When asked I would say “sure I’m going to college” because I thought that was what everyone expects from a girl with a 4.0 GPA. But it didn’t feel like me.
I started taking this one college class and woah… It changed my perspective. I found out that college is a lot more fun than highschool if you play your cards right- that is, I mean, if you really want to be there. I found out that philosophy excites me and that I can major in just about anything. And that also excites me.
One more year of highschool after this year, then I’ll be on my way to a better chapter of my education.

Diligently writing for you, Writingdilegently, Angelina Rosa.

A New Project: One I Plan to Stick to


So here we are. I have my ambitions. My means. My focus. My life. What I’ve been lacking recently is is actual motivation. Creative people fall into pits of “eh”. I want to push that to the side for a while. I need to write. I need to draw. I’ve done enough contemplating and mindless scrolling through internet feeds and clicking aimlessly through games. I need to do something now. So, how shall I go about this? Well, I’ll make it mandatory. Give myself deadlines. Hard deadlines. Snap myself out of constant useless time wasting.

I want to put myself out there. Really and truly put myself out there. No barriers or bars. No, “Wait, but what will x,y and z think?” Just the imperfect, limitless me.

I’m calling this project “Showing Myself”. Its going to be at least a 10 day experience. An open cleansing. Time spent between me, my writing, and whoever happens to stumble by. Some topics are hard, so I’ll thank any and all in advance for any and all support. Some topics are personal, and it may change somethings. But nothing worth doing will leave you unchanged. Think of this as a personal cleansing. The project starts tomorrow. One poem or entry a day. I may write more than one a day, but I’ll post only one.

Thank you all for living through this with me.

Diligently writing for you, WritingDilegently, Angelina Rosa

Running on sad


It like all these kids decided to stop listening to their minds, stopped searching for their souls, and have a tiredness that sleep can’t shed. I see all these painted smiles and pulled up hoddies. I hear silent calls for attention but no words to call to action. I smell sweat and pot and desperation. I feel the aches, the pains, the wallows and moans. Like they are showing the world that they feel defeated and the world doesn’t know how to get them to start trying.


Thought Fragments VI


I have come to a point where I no longer judge age by years but by knowledge and experience. For you to justify a right by how old you are physically does nothing but speak poorly to your actual percentage if life lived. You have people who are wise beyond their years. By far these are the oldest souls. They have probably seen a lot and been through a lot. Or at least enough to know the difference between up and down.

– Writingdilegently