You know that feeling when nothing is wrong? When everything just goes right, but you feel too lucky, like it could all come crashing down on you? Well thats how I felt when I met him. His name is Jamie. he drives a little too fast and plays the guitar a little too loud. A real cross between a modern bad boy and a britsh hottie. his grades weren’t perfect like mine were, but he tried. I wore pink; his staple was black. He was the guy-version of the complete oppisit of me. But I didn’t care.

I feel for him, and fell hard. He told me he loved me, and I belived him with every cell in my body, and it was the same for me, I was in lovewith him. Somewhere between the blinding perfection of young love, there was something wrong. My parents didn’t approve of him of course, convienced he was only after one thing, though that wasn’t true. My favorite place in the world was soon in his arms in the bed of his truck, where we had only ever made out; he didn’t push me into something I would regret.

He understood me, my thoughts, my need for freedom, how much I loved him. I understood his feelings, his songs, and how much he really wanted me. The first time he told me he loved me, I wanted to give in and give myself to him, but I couldn’t. he said it was okay, that he didn’t want to, not yet. He held and kissed me, and whispered ‘I love you’. I’ll never forget how seet it felt to say it back.

She was alone. Everyone was alone.

Adrina looked to the window and all that lay beyond.  The sky was a dark violet and there was no moon this night.

“Adrina would you like to tell me if the sun is a planet or star?” Asked the teacher.

“Okay,” replies Adrina, pulling her eyes from the window and Beyond, “ the answer is star because it shines”.

“Very good.” Says the teacher.

At that moment the door opens and Marie comes to take Adrina to her white room.

“Hello Adrina” says Marie.

“Hello Marie” replies Adrina.

It’s summer, the trees are a gorgeous green. The sky, oh how beautiful, fills my eye’s with joy. The grass, never was there a smell sweeter. I lay down, the ground so smooth, it feels like cotton. I look to the sky only to see her face starring down at me.

“How are you on this most wonderful day?” She begins the conversation.

“I am just dandy” I reply to the back of her head.

I sit up to see where she is looking, Oh what a wonderful sight! Two birds are feeding their babies in their nest high in our backyard tree.

“They are so cute! I wish i was a bird, wild,  free to roam the earth singing songs. I would make people happy everyday just by being in their backyard.”

The power of HOPE

Away from all worries, all tensions, the hectic schedule and all we know about the bad world, I was lifted to fairy land-one that resembled in Walt Disney’s animation .There was fog everywhere, all that I could see was white light scattered that reflected purity. It was a pleasant world-just as God had created for Adam and Eve. I wore a white robe very wavy and frilly as if I am a fairy! There was a soothing music that played in the background. As the music grew loud and intense, I could see myself climbing marble steps that illuminated as I put my foot on it. Everything was peaceful, pleasant as if watching with rose-tinted glasses!

Chapter One

I have nothing to say. So what do you write about when you have nothing to say? Should I write about how I feel? I’m angry. I’m crazy. Keep me quiet, it makes you well.

Should I write about where I am? I’m really no where. Slapped down in this hole. All this whiteness. Then the memories come red appears and the walls start to bleed. Lights start to flash in the corners of my eyes. My throat is dry. I cross the room to the sink in the corner and cup my hands under the faucet. The water is warm, but still I gulp. I rise from the sink and look in the mirror. I see nothing.

Born and raised in Chicago, that’s where the walls start to bleed.

I leaned about love from the T.V. I learned about sex from the adults around me.

I graduated with special achievement awards in grammar school. I graduated High School, barely.

I’m terrified. I need to shut off my imagination. What comes next?

Do I continue? Why did they take it all away from me?

Chapter Two

My family and I lived in a two bedroom apartment.

The two girls sat opposite of each other in the room, one sitting quietly while the other absent mindedly played with the page corners of a magazine, pretending to read.
“You aren’t the same anymore,” said the first girl.
“What are you talking about?” said the other, still looking down.
“I used to feel like I could tell you anything and no matter what you wouldn’t judge me. Or I could not say anything at all, just like we were, but it used to be okay. We were comfortable like that.”
“Oh come on you can still talk to me. I invited you here didn’t I?”
“Yeah. I guess. But how come you don’t talk to me anymore? I don’t even know who you like.”
“Well I don’t like anyone.”
“I see you talking with those other girls. You are always whispering and running off together. We used to do that. Remember when we would go on walks and just talk for hours?” she asked. “I don’t think those girls even like me.”
“They like you just fine. They want to be friends with you but they said it’s hard.”
“What do they mean? I try to be nice to them, but they never talk to me. And they never want to invite me.”
“Oh come on now you are just being dumb. We always invite you.”
“That’s not true. What about the other day at lunch?”
“That was different. She was having a bad day so we took her out. I thought it would be awkward for you.”
“What was wrong with her?”
“She’s fine.”

Why is it that kids cannot wake you up mornings in a civil manner? They become these creepy little midgets who hover over you in your sleep. Seven out of seven days of the week, I’m forced awake by the feeling that someone is staring at me. I crack one eyelid open ever so slightly and am face to face with my son, who has been standing there for God only knows how long, breathing on me.

After a nice long scream, groggily beating my comforter to death and making sure I’ve not wet myself, I officially come awake. I don’t have to drink coffee in the mornings. I have a nice cup-o’ adrenaline. It saves me a fortune in caffeine, but I end up having to use what I’ve saved to dye the grey from my hair each month.

After settling myself down and allowing my brain a moment to register that no, I am not about to be murdered, the talking begins. I’m never greeted with “Good Morning! How did you sleep?” It’s always, “Hey, I’m hungry!” or “If I accidentally ate a plastic dinosaur, would that be bad?”

“You’ll have to wait until Mommy’s stroke is over, then we can talk about food.” I’ll tell him, hoping he’ll leave me to it and come back an hour later. This never happens.

I took one step, then another, carefully placing my foot in front of the other. The soft, squishy sand felt great beneath my tired feet, getting between my toes and around my heel. The foot prints I’d left behind were carefully molded into the sand, only to be washed away by the oceans calm, luke-warm waves. The salty sea wind whipped my hair across my face, while the waves brushed up against my feet, leaving seaweed between my toes.

Little kids, no older than 6, were attempting to build sand castles near the shoreline. They were calm, happy, the same feeling I get when I’m at the beach. As I took another step, I felt a small poke beneath my foot. Looking down, I saw a small conch shell, a brilliant shade of orange with a red line twisting around it. It was a prize shell, a miracle. And it was mine to keep forever, the memories of walking along the beach kept inside.