My home

I have lived in the same house for the last 11 years. For most of these years my house has been "under construction." It’s safe to say that my parents got ripped off when they bought the house, but with a dog, a cat, a 6 year old and another baby on the way we needed a house, not a duplex. So we moved home.
People we don’t know, my friends, even people we have known forever make rude comments about my house. I've been called white trash and poor. But the only response I have to their comments is pity. Not pity for myself because my home isn’t finished or perfect(in their standards) or worth a million bucks, but pity for them, because they think theirs is. I’ve had complaints about my home always being full of children and being small. Those comments I smile at. Those complaints are the reason quite a few people love my home.
My home is so full of memories; not a single person I know is without one or two from this house. My parents have taken in every friend and child that my brother; sister or I have ever brought home. Dinneris cooked based on the eating habits of their guests, Mom does my friends’ laundry when the clothes are left here, and until licenses were issued Mom has always been our number 1 chauffeur. This is part of our home. It's a home so completely full of love that even in the worst mood its hard not feel at peace here.
The construction of our house has brought us happy memories of family and friends and a lot of inside jokes. Pictures then and now show the difference we’ve made in our home. But they don’t show the difference we’ve made in the lives around us. Our house may not be close to finished on the outside but the quality of life on the inside could not be any better.
There is love, devotion, and more caring in my house than most of my friends’ houses combined. My friends like to hang at my house, because my parents treat them like their own and after awhile its hard not to think of them as so.
My house may be small but it’s cozy. I never have to worry about where in the house everyone is, and if I listen closely enough I can hear the content snoring of my parents from any room. The food cooked in the kitchen is smelled no matter where I’m at. I get away with snatching food because “I'm on my way” to some other room. I can’t be angry for too long at anyone here because can't hide from their hugs and apologies long enough. There is no hiding in from anyone in my home.
My house may not be finished, but it will be. And until then, the building has cultivated dreams in all of us. Dreams of our new rooms, dreams of future decorating, and dreams of our future homes. No matter the size, or the building status of this house, it is home. It will always be my home, the place where I belong, and no matter where I'm at I can’t stay away too long because its where I dream of being.

poetry

Blowing the trees in the night
Caressing my sweat covered face
Cooling the heat of the day
Adding life to those hot summer nights

(written N/A)

It’s my first christmas without Grandpa
presents still sit around the tree
Cooking still goes on for hours

But it hangs in the air whenever we’re all together
We all miss you but no one will say
everything appears normal

then you look into our eyes and into our hearts

then its obvious something is missing
This Christmas will be the hardest of them all

(written N/A)

In the mornings when I rise
I wipe the tears from my eyes
As I try to begin my day
I have to hit my knees and pray
"Lord please just get me through"
I pray not to think of you
At night I lay in my room
The walls close in around me like a tomb
Here in this place I cry
B/c I know my life has gone awry
Where did this start?
Why did it break my heart?
Is it me, is it you?
No one not even me has the faintest clue

(written October, 2002)

run away

Slowly the bag fills, full of folded clothes

My favorite shirts, necessary pants, a sweatshirt and all my panties

Shower things go in another, along with the miscellenous

The bags sit side by side at the door

Dad's can of change dumped into a baby and placed inside

He'll understand.

A few folded blankets, a pillow, a couple pictures add to the stack

It piles into the trunk

The full car creeps out of the driveway, away from the house

Not expected home till late, when the "movie" ends

A short drive to the bank, accounts drained, change converted

An insuffienct explanation dropped at the bank

"Couldn't take it

Needed out

Sorry"

The car eats highway, speeding excessively

I run away.

(written July 30, 2005)

Again

You start talking and I started yelling.

It's the same old fight, the same old feelings.

No amount of apologies or tears can change the emotions building up inside me.

I have so much fear,

Fear I'm really not wanted, or thought to be too critical.

Fear we won't last because we don't have the time.

But the I'm burdened by regret;

Not because of my feelings, but my actions.

Regret that you'll never understand my irritability.

It was the same old fight,

I have the same old feelings.

(written July 30, 2005)

stripped

My eyes flew open, hit my a wave of nausea; I jumped from my four-post bed and fled into the bathroom. Not again, everything I'd eaten the night before flooded back, only tasting and resembling silly putty more than it did food. I sunk down to the floor next to the toilet and cradled my flushed face in my shaking hands. I looked up at the mural of the unicorn Katie had painted above our toilet. It didn't fit in with the batrhoom decor, or any other part of the house, but Katie loved her fantasies and she wanted it there. I snapped back to reality when I heard a knock at the door, and mom's melodic voice breezed through the cracks.
"Sugar, are you oky?" I groaned an unaudible yes. I stood up feeling better, better than I expected given I'd just tossed my cookies. I ran the shower, stripped down slowly and hopped in. I washed my hair and shaved my legs, taking more time than I normally do, but enjoying the warmth that the water provided. I towel dried and padded softly down the hall into my room. I opened the closet doors and dropped the towel. I reached into the dangerous depths of my well-adorned closet and pulled out a green skirt and a white t-shirt. Taking them to the bathroom I ran over everything I had to do that day. I had a chemistry test, a huge paper for lit that I was reading today, then my tennis meet, that I would once again have to miss.
I thought, maybe a little excessively about my meet that night. I put on my make-up, and straightened my hair; I gagged a little of the taste of the toothpaste and put my clothes on. I walked upstairs and sat down on my mom's bed. Today was suppose to be a completely normal day, completely normal given the fact I'd missed a month and a half of school.
"Mom, I'm nervous. Everybody at school knows. What if everything is different?" My voice quivered as I spoke. She looked at me, my fate was sealed. She was making me go to school.
"Evie, I know this is going to be hard. After all that's gone on you deserve to be back in the swing of things. You'll do great, you'll have fun, and it will be okay." Although Mom's voice was reassuring, I wasn't reassured. I gave her a hug and climbed off the bed and walked into the kitchen. Mom followed me, while I clamored around the room, she watched intently. "I hvae your lunch in the fridge; pepperonis, cheese, pickles, lots of strawberries and doritos. Your keys are lying on the counter;" Mom grabbed my hand. "I love you Evelyn, no matter what. This doesn't change who you are; it just broadens the groups of people you can relate to."
I chuckled. Leave it to Mom to try to make a funny about this. I hugged her, grabbed my stuff and swiped my keys off the counter. I opened the breezeway door and looked at my baby. She was black and old and oh so gorgeous. I didn't know anyone else that was lucky enough to have something as pretty as her. I slid into the driver's seat of Chevelle, and started her up. I took a deep breath and drove to the high school, I feared my parking spot would be taken but I shouldn't have, it was empty.
I looked at the building I was about to enter; I'd only be roaming those halls for another two months. Graduation was approaching quickly. I started dreaming about not being in high school; suddenly there was a knock on my window. I jumped a little and looked, a smile slowly crept across my blank face. I opened the door and stood up, suddenly I was bombarded by several super big hugs.
"I'm so glad you're back Evie, I missed you something terrible. Everyone's been wondering where you have been, but most of them know what happened. The police came that week and told us! I'm so sorry, we didn't stay that night. We've tried calling but no one's been answering." Summer was shouting and jumping and hugging me all at once.
"I didn't know the cops came." My voice was quiet, and suddenly I felt queasy all over again. "Mom and I went on a trip to Las Vegas after everything was settled. She thought getting out of town might help."
When she moved aside, I saw the only person I'd hoped would be there that day. Addison was quiet as usual; slowly he pushed summer out of the way and hugged me.
"I love you, Evelyn. I just wanted you to know." I always believed words whispered in a hug were the most sincere, and I was right.
"I know." They were the only words I could muster, but I prayed he knew what I meant.
My friends and I walked into the school. Heads turned to watch me as I walked by. The feeling of being watched used to excite me, but then it was because I was irresistibly adorable, now it was different. I feld judged, I felt violated than there stares. I knew they weren't looks of anger or contempt but rather pity. I wish they were angry.
I walked to lit class alone. I walked into the room and sat down in the desk I had before I'd left. Today was the day I was supposed to read my paper. It was my first day back, and I had to read the hardest paper I'd ever written. I sat my laptop on the desk and opened it. I was one of the few students that happened to carry their computer with them in class, but i preferred typing to writing. As the rest of the students filed into the room I skimmed the paper I was about to read. Then my eyes went back to the title Stripped.
"Eve, would you like to read today?" Mrs. Gilbert inquired as she passed my desk. I nodded. I would read my paper off my computer, I would read it sitting down and I would do it now. The class quieted down and I took a deep breath.
"Every person in this room as been to a party. Some parties center around swimming pools, others around boxing matches, but most parties center on losing yourself." My voice echoed in my head, I faltered. "I went to parties, all the time, never expecting to be stripped. Stripped of my innocence and everything that I held close, everything that I held sacred." I kept reading. Tears welled up in my eyes and when I looked around, I knew that my classmates were crying too. I finished reading and shut my laptop.
I finished the school day and drove home. I was feeling icky and my skirt had been feeling tight all morning, I couldn't wait to get home and put some sweats on. I stopped to pick up a cherry coke and a newspaper. A picture of President Bush and a nasty headline filled the page. "Great," I thought "stupid liberal media." I pulled my car into the garage with out hitting any of mom's three suicidal cats and basically fell out of the car. I was exhausted. I dropped my school bag on the empty floor, it looked so alone. I walked down the hallway, straight to he closed door.
I pushed the handle and swung it open, flipping on a light. I didn't move any farther into the room. I dropped to the floor and stared blankly. I looked at all my sister Katie's stuff and cried. Her photography on the walls, her poster of Tom Cruise, I drank in her essence. Katie loved me, I knew that much, I wondered if she had known how much I had adored her. I never thought I'd have to go through this without her.
I had to take a test, a test most high school students and college girls dread. Mom was bringing it home. I closed the door to Katie's room glancing one last time at all fourteen of her prized music stands that she spent two semesters painting for her art competition. Those stands kept her up more often then not and once she was done, she had let everyone know. I closed my eyes and pictured katie brushing back her untamable hair, covered from head to foot in paint just trying to get the last one done. Suddenly, I heard the front door open and I knew it was time.
When I got upstairs Mom was standing there but so was Addison. Mom solemnly handed me the box and walked with me to the bathroom. I could figure out why he was there, but I wasn't going to complain. I needed all the moral support I could get. I entered alone leaving Mom and Addison standing outside the door. A few minutes later I emerged we set a timer and sat down on the couch, I put in "The Breakfast Club." I lost myself in the move, only passing back through reality when the timer went off and mom walked into the bathroom. I didn't want to look at her face when she came out, I knew it would tell all. She sat down on the couch and put her arm around me. I let my head fall into the crook of her arm, tears streamed down my face. As I cried I felt slight pressure on my left hand. Through the tears I glanced at my ring finger. It was beautiful. THe small simple diamond ring said it all.
I never asked for my sister and I to get shoved into the backseat of a drunk's car, or to be raped. I never aksed for my precious Katie to die trying to protect her baby sister. I didn't ask to get pregnant from a guy I never knew, in a moment of pain and anger. But in the things I never asked for, I got all I every dreamed of.

My dream

My dream home is in a small town in Iowa. A town like Villisca, Bedford or Gravity, towns where the history walks down the antique streets with its high school sweetie. A town where my history was born and raised.
My house has a huge yard and neighbors about a half-mile down the road. I have a fence, enclosing a yard full of flowers, vegetables and well-worn toys. In the corner of the yard is a huge weeping willow, and just past the house any guest can see my barn. There is a gate at the front of the house that if its opened will lead the guest right up the steps, past the two rocking chairs that sit on the wrap around porch and up to the double doors. Inside the doors the guest can take a left, a right or straight up the oak staircase.
If the guest took a left he/she would enter my room, my kitchen. I have a country style sink, so there is a cut out in the front for my arms to rest in, while washing dishes or cutting vegetables. I have two ovens, one on top of the other, positioned next to my double door fridge/freezer. I have an island stove with top burners and a hanging light above it. The walls are lined with countertop and cupboards. Exiting the kitchen the guest will enter my dining room. A table is set (as always) for six with a wooden highchair at the end, that night the table is set with one extra plate for the guest. There are flowers in the center that were freshly picked by my beautiful children. Right past the dining room is the living room. There is a corner cabinet that houses the entertainment (TV and radio). The couch sits catty-cornered from the shelf and directly across from the fireplace. There is a worn rug in front of the fireplace and a coffee table in between the rug and couch. There are bookshelves on the open walls. The lower shelves are filled with children’s books and the higher ones of personal favorites.
If the guest took a right at the staircase he/she would enter the master bedroom. There is another fireplace directly across from the foot of the king-sized bed, and a trunk in between the foot and the fireplace. The trunk is where my husband and I keep special things and photo albums. Both sides of the bed have bedside tables with lamps and on mine sits a half-read book. There are pictures and more books lining the walls. On the left and right side of the bed are doors. The left door takes the guest into the nursery. There is a wooden crib, a changing table, a mommy-sized rocking chair and a smaller one for baby. Peering over the side of the crib the guest would see my youngest, Tariq Wayne sleeping peacefully, perfectly.
The door on the right side goes into the bathroom. There are twin sinks and a huge panel mirror. In the corner is the stand up shower, its just a square shower with clear sides. Then there is a huge Jacuzzi bath, its set up off the ground. It’s definitely big enough for two (;.
If the guest went up the stairs, he/she would be faced with three doors. The middle door leads into the bathroom. Strait across from the door is the bathtub/shower. To the right is another double sink a toilet and a door. To the left there is two doors. One of the doors on the left is a closet. The other door leads into the boys’ room. The door on the right leads into the girls’ room.
A curtain that can be pulled off to the sides and tied divides the girls’ room. On the far right side is my second oldest Evelinn Ruth’s. There is a curved bay window, with a bench seat. The other side is my third child Kailyn Raine’s. In the back of the room is a door leading out to a porch. There are chairs and blankets and a gorgeous view of prime Iowa farmland.
On the other side of the bathroom is the boys’ room. The room is divided also. Like in the girls’ room the far-left side is my oldest and eve’s twin, Addison John (or AJ). There is another curved window with another bench seat. The right side is fourth child Aaron Erdhart. In the back of this room, there is another door, leading out to the same porch as the girls’ door. The two bedrooms are mirrored structure wise.
The most vital and important part of my dream home is the atmosphere. An atmosphere of love and warmth is what I want. I don’t care if it’s a two-bedroom apartment for the seven of us as long as we’re there with them. As long as I am home with my kids and being able to be there for my husband. That in itself makes my dream home.

beauty

What is beauty? Is it a pant size, hair color, weight, or height? Is it nationality, intelligence, voice, laugh, or seduction technique? Is beauty what makes people fall in love or make the world spin? No, beauty is indefinable; it is a secret that each person has to discover the limits of on his or her own.
In 1828 Noah Webster defined beauty as the following: “An assemblage of graces, or an assemblage of properties in the form of the person or any other object, which pleases the eye. In the person due proportion or symmetry of parts constitutes the most essential property to which we annex the term beauty. In the face, the regularity and symmetry of the features, the color of the skin, the expression of the are, are among the principal properties, which constitute beauty. But as it is hardly possible to define all the properties which constitute beauty, we may observe in general, that beauty consists in whatever pleases the eye of the beholder, whether in the human body, in a tree, in a landscape, or in any other object. Beauty is intrinsic and perceived by the eye at first view, or relative, to perceive which the aid of the understanding and reflection is requisite. Thus, the beauty of a machine is not perceived, till we understand its uses, and adaptation to its purpose. ” While Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary defines beauty as the follow: “the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind of spirit.”
Somewhere in there I believe the true definition of beauty was lost. Even today most people would just say “well it means that a person is hott.” Most of society connects beauty with sexuality, when in reality the two do not have a joined definition. Beauty is some physical prettiness with a lot of personal charm. A beautiful girl may not be the one that makes the boys look twice as she trips down the hall but she makes the boys smile and the girls adore her. A beautiful person smiles often because they have a heart of joy and a content spirit. A beautiful person always listens and constantly has words of compassion. He/she is continually hugging everyone around and wiping away every tear. A beautiful person ranks his/her needs and desires below those of everyone else. A beautiful person is gentle and soft, he/she cares deeply forever person whose life connects to his/hers.
The number of magazine covers a person is on, or how many proposals have been received don't measure beauty. Beauty is measured by how many lives have been touched, if it can really be measured at all. Just as Webster stated in 1828 beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

(written Nov 4, 2004)

I'm stressed

I'm angry

I'm unlovable

I'm hurtful

I' m scared

It's solely me

It's serene

It's beautiful

It's worthwhile

It's peaceful

It's soothing

It's solely you

I'm calmed

I'm content

I'm loved

I'm safe

I'm patient

I've found you

(written N/A)

I remember the first time my eyes fell on your face,

I thought you were weird, a textbook nerd.

I didn't know then how much you would change me.

You've given me more than either of us know.

You've shown me sorrow, love, happiness;

You've taught me to strive for Christ.

I want to repay you, I'm indebted to you.

I know no amount of money or material things will suffice,

Nothing I can do will take this debt.

Only maybe if I have taught you something too.

(written Aug 4, 2002))

I dreamed of a crib with pink baby blankets,

I dreamed of a rocking horse where my daddy would push me.

I wanted to be held while I cried,

I wanted to be rocked to sleep while Mommy sang lullabies.

I yearned to wrap my five fingers around my family's fingers,

I desired to wriggle my bare toes in the green grass.

I know I'd make my mommy happy with my first smile and my constant giggles.

I know I'd love life and play in the sun and dance in the snow.

I didn't get the chance to breathe the fresh air I craved.

I never got to smile or love,

I never felt a coddle or a kiss.

I never got the love I was created for.

I felt warmth and safety, then pain and nothing.

What did I do wrong?

What have I done to make my mommy hate me so much?

Why doesn't she want me ?

What did I do?

(written 2005)

i love writing childrens stories. This is the first in a thought out series. The rest include the letters growing up (becoming capitals), when the letters play they learn to make "music" together c+h= ch ect...then when Mr. y teaches them to "shape shift" and they can be both little and big, and when to use big. Then an introduction to punctuation...

a, e, i, o and u lived together on the corner of Letter Lane and Alphabet Avenue. Their mailbox said "vowels," and they were happy. Although they were happy, boy, were they moody! Some days stretched on forever and the sounds coming from the vowel house were long. a said "A," e yawned "EE," i sighed "EYE," o moaned "OH," and u would groan "YOU." Other days were short, and the noises that were made were short too. a yelled "AH," e shouted "EH," i hollered "IH," o called out "OOO," and u would roar "UH." But a, e, i, o and u were lonely. There was only one other person on their street and an abandoned house across from theirs.
The other person on the street was Mr. Y. Mr. Y was an old gentleman who was very wise. The vowels loved him and he came to visit often. One day Mr. Y told the vowels that a new family was moving in next door. Everyone was very excited, they were going to have friends! When moving day came, a, e, i, o, and u watched excitedly from their window. But as the moving truck began to unload and the new family climbed out of the van a, e, i, o and u gasped. These new neighbors were different, they didn't look they same, the noises they made were all the same. a, e, i, o and u stepped back from the window and sat down. They weren't going to have new friends after all.
As days passed a, e, i, o and u still watched the new neighbors from their window. They watched as the neighbors finished the house and painted, in big letters, "consonants" on the new mailbox. As the vowels watched from their window they noticed that one of the stranger letters was walking towards their house. He was carrying a plate of brownies. a, e, i, o and u ducked behind the furniture and held their breath. The letter knocked on the door, no one answered. He kept knocking, and still no one answered.The strange letter set the brownies on the door step and walked back to his house and his family.
Days later Mr. Y paid a visit to the vowels. He called a, e, i, o and u downstairs and set them down together in the living room. He spoke very slowly and with lots of wisdom. He asked why they were ignoring their new neighbors. a, e, i, o and u looked around at eachother and then at the floor. Finally they began to speak, they said it was because their new neighbors were different, they made only one noise, they looked funny and there were twenty of them. Mr. Y exlplained to a, e, i, o and u that this didn't matter, he told them that their difference make playing more fun. He told them to go over to the consonants . Then he left.
a, e, i, o and u watched Mr. Y leave and then they too, got up and walked out of the house. They walked across that street and up to their neighbor's door. a knocked and one of the "strange" letters answered the door. Both a and the letter said hi. The new letter introduced himself as t and asked a, e, i, o and u to come inside. t brought all his brothers and sisters downstairs and introduced them to a, e, i, o and u. t called them b, c, d, f, g, h, j, k, l, m, n, p, q, r, s, v, w, x, and the littlest one was z. All the letters played all afternoon and when it came time to go home all the vowels were very sad and everyone made promises to come visit in the morning.

All over the world children cry out for their fathers, the men that gave half part of their genetics to a woman and rain. Boys and girls grow up without a male influence, no one to know that guys can offer more than heartache and sex. I am not one of those girls, never have I ever cried out for a father.
Growing up I was a Daddy's girl. I could swing a hammer with the best carpenters around, and nothing was too big for my crowbar. I loved to play softball with him, and toss a football around the yard. I loved to listen to him talk, he could tell the same story over and over again, and each time i would remain i would be just as interested. He was my hero, he still is my hero. Now at seventeen I'm less of a daddy's girl, and a lot more big sister. I watch my Daddy play and joke with Emily and Zach the same way he did with me. He uses just as much love and tenderness as he used seventeen years ago. The thought of his affection and overwhelming loves pulls at my heartstrings and brings a smile to my face. The reason for my often over abundance of joy is simply that he never had to be here.
At age nineteen my Daddy convinced he pregnant girlfriend, to keep her baby, marry him and let him raise the child as his own. After the wedding Daddy legally adopt the then eight month old child. That lucky child was me. I am proud that he is my Daddy. In my whole life, i've never had a father, just my daddy.
As I grow I've come to appreciate my luck more and more. Daddy is here because he wanted to be, not because the courts tracked him down. Daddy taught me construction, chevelles and care. He was the president of my softball league, he taught me how to slide in the pouring rain, was always the loudest at my basketball games, and is still the loudest guy in the crowds at my tennis meets. Whenever I need a hug or encouragement Daddy is always a room or seven digits away.
Daddy is my hero, my protector, my guardian. He is the most critical of boys when they come to call, but laughs as he hangs them over our deck by the poor guy's ankles. He knows how to handle boys when I don't like them, and watches carefully when I do. He is an awesome guy, with a great sense of humor and has a very wise character.
I would not be the aspiring teacher and woman I am today if it weren't for his attentive leadership and direction. Daddy picked mom and Daddy picked me. There is not a day that I regret not having a Father, or cry out for one. After all I don't need a Father because I have the best Daddy in the world.

It was a cool beautiful night but being fourteen there was no way I was going to be caught dead trick or treating. I had caught up with my best friend and we were just plodding through town when we met up with Terri. He was just the person we wanted to see, nothing like a great guy to slice away at the boredom.
"Hey, are you all going over to Crazy Joe's? I dare you to." Terri asked as he dropped into pace beside us.
"Well, if you come with us, we have no reason to say no. We dare you to." Kathy sweetly smiled. None of us really knew where her flirtatious spirit would lead us.
We turned left at the ivy covered shack that stood on the familiar outskirts of town. Soon enough our feet dropped off the pavement and onto the gravel. Once are feet were crunching the rock we began to have second doubts. I looked around and wondered if anyone else was too. If they were, no one admitted it. Off in the distance lightening flashed and the thunder rolled over the exposed empty fields. With each flash of light we caught a brief glimpse of one another, with each clap of thunder the hair on my neck rose and I jumped. I felt Kathy's hand on my arm as the cold rain started falling. The wind gusting mercilessly at our faces as the eeriness of the night continued to grow. The chill in the air was setting in then we heard a blood curdling scream. Kathy's hand tightened, I screamed, and Terri whimpered. Then with a flash of light we saw a puddle in the road. We stopped, not one of us willing to move any closer. With the next flash of light we noticed something very strange; the puddle wasn't right, it wasn't clear. Terri gulped in air and took a step closer to the puddle, then another, and another. Soon he was standing above it. He dipped his finger in and brought i back up to his face. We couldn't see his reaction because the lightning had momentarily ceased. If he tried to say something we'll never know, and when the next flash of lightning lit the sky, he was gone.
"Kris! Where did he go?!" Kathy gasped as she clutched onto my arm, frantic.
"Um...he's probably just trying to scare us. You know how Terri is. Let's go this way." I pulled Kathy into the ditch, away from the mysterious puddle. Every now and then we heard noises and are skin would crawl; we never mentioned them. Across the feild spanning before us, there was a flicker of light. But before it could be identified it disapeared. I thought to myself that this must be the light of a house, so I pulled Kathy off into the general direction of the suspicious house.
The rain was coming down harder and we were soaked through to the bone. The wind was snapping us around like rag dolls. My body began to ache from constantly trying to stay on my feet. As we neared the house I could see a single candle burning, but no other sign of life. I stepped closer and the leaves cracked, Kathy and I stopped. I twig snapped somewhere nearby, the house looked creepy but it looked safer than whatever was lurking out here. So, I stepped onto the porch, the steps creaked with each step we took. I forced myself to the door, my cold fingers reached up for the metal knocker. As the metal touched my skin, I shivered. It was cold. But before i could even bring the knocker down the door opened. I looked at Kathy, knowing our faces both showed the same thing: fear. I stepped into the house.
It smelled of decaying flesh but I needed a deep breath, I took it through my mouth. Kathy was coughing. I thought about her asthma and how dead I would be if her mom knew whatI had dragged her into. But I really couldn't just leave her standing shivering in the door. We took a few steps further into the door. Her coughing became worse, and she began gasping. I turned her around to face the door, and made the decision to get her out. The door slammed shut in our faces. I grabbed the handle and pulled but it wouldn't budge, I cursed myself for never working out in gym. Finally I threw my hands up. An ominious laugh shook the house, my spine tingle.
I tried to talk but my voice had fled. Kathy was coughing so horribly, i thought she was going to die. We had to get out, but how? I grabbed Kathy's arm beneath the elbow and lead her toward the rickety stairs, I had been avoiding. A slowly ascended the stairs, but looking up I saw no stairs, and looking down I saw none. Each stair was appearing as I reached for it and the one below was disappearing. I got half way up the stairs and turned to look at Kathy. She hadn't climbed one. She was just standing there trying to breath, cold, wet, and shivering. Her lips were beginning to turn a little blue. The candle I had seen from the outside was sitting in the window sill by the door. It was our only source of light. A thin ray shone on the steps and to the beginning of the second floor. Then in a instant, it was gone. There was no light, and no way for me to see Kathy, or the stairs. I knew there were about four left, I just held my breath and lept. I landed with a thud on the second floor.
My eyes adjusted to the dim light and I looked down at Kathy. She was urging me to go on. I slowly stood up and looked around. I was standing in a hall, not so dimly lit. There was light coming from somewhere. My eyes scanned the walls and then i found it. Beneath a closed door light seeped into the hall. I began to walk towards the door. In the back of my mind I heard Kathy yelling for me to stop and wait for her, then collapse into a fit of coughing. I told myself I should wait for her, but I couldn't. The closed door was calling my name, pulling me to it. I had no control over my own body. I walked into the room, behind the door. It was a small room, with small chairs, and toys strewn around the floor. The chairs were lined up around the walls, I sat down. I tried to force myself to stand up but I couldn't. There was a body next to me, he was wearing a blue baseball cap. He turned to look into my face. He had pale sunken eyes, staring right into mine, boring a whole through my face. They looked just like...No! I tore my eyes away from his, I wasn't going to think that. I screamed. I looked around, frantic to get out, but all the doors were shut. There was no way to get out! Wait, in the corner of the room was a reflection, i looked closer. It was a window! I felt a bony hand of the boy next to me on my jeans. I smacked it off and jumped out of the chair. I sprinted to the window and jumped out.
The glass shattered around me and tore my skin open. I lfell through a tree below the window. The arms of the tree grabbed at my clothes ripping them, pulling me. I heard the boy fall through the window too. It had only been a year since...my body hit the ground, my thoughts stopped. The windo gushed from me. I climbed to my feet and started to run. I felt limbs, and thorns ripping and digging through my skin. My clothes were in shambles my skin mostly gone. As I ran my foot hit a rock, i tumbled feet over head. The ground was welcoming, but I knew I had to get up. I knew the boy was behind me. He was coming, those eyes were coming. Those eyes had to be Brad's, my big brother Brad's. He had only been gone a year ago, a year ago tonight. What was he doing here? Were Charlie and Denise here too? Had they taken the dare Terri, Kathy and I had taken? I got up and kept running, I had to keep running. I couldn't feel a muscle or a bone in my body. I couldn't stop, and then I was falling, falling and getting warmer and warmer. There was nothing for me to grab for, nothing to hold onto. I hit the ground, the wet musty dirty smelled good.
I sat there for sometime, trying to regain composure and stop my thoughts. I felt a drop of something on my skin, I looked up. There dangling from an outstretched tree branch was a body. The eyes were wide open, the mouth too. The blood was dripping out of her mouth. She had been screaming just as I was screaming.
I don't know how long it's been since I looked up but she has become my best friend. I've grown accustom to the stench and the bugs. I talk to her, sometimes she talks back. I tell her that I'm praying. I'm praying that next year my baby sister does take the dare.

They see her perfectness and her make up.

She sees the pain, the hurt and the tears.

They see her grades and her work ethic.

She sees the mistakes and she feels the resentment.

They see a strong will and an unbroken heart.

She sees the blood and the vulnerability.

They see her cute clothes and her done up hair.

She sees the vain attempt to be something she's not.

They see what she lets them,

She ses what she tries so hard to hide.

First, real love feels good. Real Love feels beautiful. It makes the person I'm loving and the person being loved feel beautiful. Love makes people unafraid to be seen crying, unshowered, grungy and at their worst. Love feels like a sunrise turning something completely dark into a sight that makes a heart stop. At the same time it's like a sunset. Love is like a sunset because it is looked forward to all day. It can take a beautiful day and transform it into an even more beautiful night. Love can turn a blank canvas into a Monet.
Love feels like home. It's the feeling people get when they walk out of the cold into a cozy home The house is warm and smells like baked bread; it wraps around the person entering the house and lingers with all that leaves it. Everybody feels welcome and special. Love is like that.
Love feels colorful and bubbly. It enhances joy and brings colors into even the darkest, and often the coldest of souls. Love isn't a blinding bright or a deep earth tone; it's a pastel. It's a pastel because it's soft. Love feels soft and light; it isn't a burden but a blessing. But most of all love feels full. When a person is really being loved there is no doubt, no emptiness, no pain. That person is just full and content.

I'm broke,

My heart has been shattered,

I have no more to give.

Every part of me aches in agony,

My pillow drenched with tears.

You shattered my heart.

I relied on you for years,

You gave me more than I deserved.

You loved me.

I planned on my time around you,

We tried to spend every minute together.

I loved you.

Now everything is a constanct reminder,

Even when I sob memories return.

I cannot be left in peace.

Maybe if you could see me this way,

You would understand how much I loved you.

But alas;

I'm broke,

My heart has been shattered,

I have nothing more to give.

(Written July 9, 2002)

The wind makes me shiver,

The dark atmosphere makes me blink.

I pull my coat around me tighter.

It's another cold December night,

I can see my breath puff from my mouth.

The moon is so clear, and the stars are so bright.

Then a single, perfect snowflake hits my nose.

Millions of tiny white flakes follow.

The ground becomes white and creamy.

Before long, snowflakes are stuck to my lashes.

Slowly I turn and walk inside,

Content.

This beautiful December night wrought the first snow.

(writtenN/A)

I look in the mirror,
I know what I see.

I wonder what everyone else sees.

That I'm selfish and whiny?

Or big hearted and open minded?

Do they see my weight or my flaws?

Do they see beauty and grace?

I want to know but knowing hurts.

Knowing that others see failure,

but hearing that they see radiance.

What am I really?

(written August 20, 2004)

Please be careful with my heart.

Its been horribly broken before.

I can't take any more pain,

I couldn't possibly cry one more tear.

Please don't make me try.

I want to trust you.

I want to let myself love you,

But please be careful with my heart.

(written N/A)

When you're younger your mind concentrates on growing up or being old. It's always what you are going to do when you grow up, who you are going to be when you're old. But to me getting old isn't about graduating high school and college, or getting a job. Getting old is about your sold maturing and changing. Some people believe that growing up can occur in an instant or over the course of a few rough days where your world changes. I don't think that to be true, I believe growing up takes a lifetime.
I'm seventeen and only just begun to grow up. There are a few things in everyone's life that alter their rate of growing up and getting older.
Experiencing the phenomenon of another life entering the world causes a guardedly of growing in the soul. Some people worry about the pain, and the drugs, the defects. But to me there is nothing about birth other than beauty. I watched my mom laboriously bring my baby sister into this world, ad it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Something so beautiful entering a world that can be so ugly changed my outlook on the lives around me. Emily was absolutely perfect, she was helpless, and I was there to protect her. I grew more grown knowing that this perfect little baby was going to grow up with me around, and guiding her through the things I was going through. Now she tells me I'm her role model, and that in itself cause me to be old.
How does one know when love is pure and when love is not? I don't think there is one specific answer to any question about love. Love is a feeling, love is a moment, and love can be a life. Love effects every aspect of every person's life. Some people just don't get enough and it causes them great pain and suffering, it can cause them to lash out at those who have love. Some people are blessed with an over abundance of love, and it causes them to share with eerie person they meet. This is because too much is just enough, if not too little. I have enough love from my friends and my family to last me my lifetime, or at least the next couple of years. But when a person has this much love, it's hard not to share. Learning the truth abou twelve and what it entails means that a person has grown, and become older.
Changing causes a lot of terrot to some people, while other people just crave the constance changing of lives. Changing causes the mind and soul to readjust in their new settings. This readjustment brings a lot of chara ter traits that are essential in the lives of anyone getting old. This change can be moving, transferring jobs or any person in your life leaving. I haven't quite had this part of my life yet. I've wached my friends adapt to their changes and they all deall differently with them. I see how it has changed them. WHen Kt's paren'ts divorced, she spiraled helplessfly for a while, but then she became better. I watched her become stronger and more independent and at the same tim I watched her learn to rely more on the people she knew she could trust. Through those years I watched her become old.
As people grow older they obtain wisdome, patience, and knowledge. These are all acquired by the gaining of years. The process cannot be sped up, and it is on a different time line for each person. Without getting older a person lacks a serenity that comes with age. Getting older for some may be turning sixty while for others it may be turning six. There are many children in the world with more widome than many middle-aged people. It's just a matter of who the person is and how fast they are growing up.
I had not really experienced the true tragedy and loss involved in death until i was abou twelve or thirteen. I los tmy great-grandpa in July, it really hit me then just how much I take for granted, and how much I needed to marvel in those moments. Then in August I lost a close family friend, the horse he was riding had fallen on him and killed him, but not instantly. He was only a few hundred yards away. I watched my mom and Aunt give him CPR for what seem liked hours, then life support trying desperately to get him to the hospital to save him, and I saw the medics give up and just let him go. That Junauary I lost my great-grandma, we weren't close but I still regretted the time I just gave up on her. Through the course of the next few years, more of my family has died. My favorite uncle succumbed to a long battle with cancer, a battle that I watched him slowly deteriorate through. It was a battle I would have fiven my life to stop for him. I love my other great-grandma; a woman whose strength I marveled at and loved my whole life. It's difficult for me to belive that any of these wonderful people are gone, from my life forever but I knwo they are, and I know that in their passing they helped me grow.
Birth, love, change, getting old and death are what defines growing up. I don' tthink a single person is ever done growing up until the minute before they die. Thus, it is impossible for a person to be "old" until that moment as well. This is because until that moment, a person has never stopped learning, seeing, changing or acquiring life. In that final breath a person is grown up completely and fulfilled all of their potential. That moment is when you are old.

(written N/A

Revise Fall 2004)

Tears trickle down my face.

I try to stifle my sobs, but its no use.

So many helpless children; inflicted by the wrongs of others.

Many already chosen to throw their live away with alcohol, drugs, sex.

The thought of these young, lost souls makes my heart ache.

I wipe the tears from my eyes with a solid resolve,

I'll love them.

(written July 16, 2002)

One simple prayer changed my life for eternity.

Wherever I go, you lead me on.

I was so lost and so weak

With a few words my soul and spirit strengthened.

An inner peace sought my heart and settled.

Life is so serene and it's because You are near.

A sigh of relief escaped my once wrenched lips.

You lift my heavy burdens and all my pain.

Now I smile when I feel you here.

Nothing goes wrong with in your presence,

Within Your embrace I am safe.

This is where I belong, I belong with you

(written July 13, 2002)

I get to a point where I can't cry yourself to sleep anymore.

The tears won't flow because the sea is dry.

My body aches but my soul is numb.

One more spear through my heart and it will all be over

My heart bleeds and my mind can't believe,

but these tears just will not come.

My pillow cannot take another drop,

My body cannot take one more sob.

People wonder why I am not so happy.

I wonder why I can't cry.

(written N/A)

The last moonbeam ascends back to the heavens.

Th enavy blue sky is caressed by hesitant sunrays.

The few remaining stars winkle a faint good-bye before drowning in sunshine.

Like a performer on centerstage, the water droplets shimmer under the new sun.

A feathered friends opens his beak and spreads the word,

The morn has come!

The sun makes his anticpated entrance.

Exubriantly her awakens life.

His warm embrace captures the youthful day,

And once again life has started.

(written N/A)

As I think back to the last time we talked

I begint to smile at the incredible things you've said.

When I think back to the last time we touched.

My heart begins to beat wildly yearning for one more embrace.

When all things fall into place within my heart,

And i've put each piece together

I just want to be with you.

(written N/A)

Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

Search your soul.

Smile at the rejected.

Embrace the lonesome.

Let yourself be happy.

Wash the clothes.

Take out the trash.

Cleanse your heart.

Watch the clouds change.

Make a wish ona falling star.

Decipher your dreams.

Cut your hair

Buy new clothes.

Be who you are.

Look in the mirror

Smile at what you see.

Realize this is who you were meant to be.

(written October 29, 2003)

Please Don't pretend that you now me, or even that you care

Everytime I needed you, you were never there.

(written N/A)

I lay back on the lush cool green grass,

I feel a cool autumn breeze kiss my skin.

Above me are millions of pearls embedded in velvet.

A sigh escapes my peach lips.

A feeling settles over me.

This is...Serene

(written N/A)