Goodbye

I'm tired of being hurt.
Of being left behind.
Looking on at you,
But I'm just never on your mind.

I'm sick of doing all I can
To get you through your day
When it takes all my strength
Just for you to look my way.

But it's just a glance
And not your own free will
It's like you decide to take me
Because I'm your daily pill.

You only do it because you have to
Because I'm the only one who cares.
And if it weren't for me, what would you do,
Since I'm the only one who's ever there?

As I lose loved ones left and right
I don't feel too bad inside.
At least I can move on without them
Knowing that they just lied.

And in the end what difference does it make?
Whether you're here for me or not.
At least I've got the strength to stand alone
And leave without a second thought.

Confused

Have you ever been confused
Like you've never known before?
Where nothing now is how it was
And all you want to is more?

When insanity and peaceful bliss
Just seem to coincide.
And somehow it's such a fine line
That causes the devide?

Confusion has enveloped me
And I just can't shake free.
No matter what I try to do
These thoughts don't let me be.

So I'll let it take me over
And do with me what it will.
And let it break and toss me round
While I stand and just stay still.

Marshtruka Door

I was running late and knew I had to take a marshrutka if I was going to make it to class on time.
I waved down a 455 as soon as I got to the side of the road. Shoving my way on through the crowd of people, I finally got situated between the fat man and the door. But the door wouldn't shut. And suddenly, massive amounts of pain shot up from my foot.
Glancing down at the location of the pain, my eyes bulged. My boot was stuck. The door couldn't shut. The marshrutka started to drive off, as I felt the wind rush past me. I tried to cling onto the railing, but I was slipping and fast.
All around me were Ukrainians babbling at me, screaming something that I couldn't understand. "Ya nye govoryu po-russki! Ya nye znayu chto ti govorish! Ya nye ponimayu!" I kept screaming at them. It was the only Russian I could think of at the moment. I don't speak Russian, I don't know what you're saying, and I don't understand. But they just kept babbling.
Finally I was able to yank my foot free as a man reached down and pulled. He gave me a creepy grin as he looked up at me, seeming to expect something from me.
"Chto vash nomer?" he asked me. Eww, I thought with disgust. There's no way this 40 year old man asked for my number.
"Chto vash nomer?" he asked again. And when I didn't reply and turned away from him, he wrapped his arm around me.
I made a point of getting off at the next stop, no matter how far away I was. The door swung open and I jumped. I started walking, instantly regretting it. Looking at my surroundings, I grumbled a bit. I still had a mile to walk, with an aching foot.
"I'm never wearing these boots again."

If Only

If only I had done what's right.
If only I had stayed alert.
If only I were smart enough
to keep myself from getting hurt

If only I had thought this out.
If only I was strong enough.
If only I had done it myself
And just got rid of the stuff

Then I would have lost out.

Because if only I had done it before.
If only I had been alone.
If only I went there without him
I wouldn't have made it on my own.

If only he was never there.
If only he just didn't see.
If only his arms weren't open wide
To take a hold of me.

Then I never would have felt the love.
I never would have felt the peace.
I never would have grown so much,
Or learn what he sees in me.

And never would it cross my mind
As my tears crossed over the brim,
That never would I have found someone
Who is quite as amazing as him.

Shopping

"All right class. I want to you write a short prose on something you are passionate about, one way or another. Try not to be offensive in your writing, as we will be sharing them with the class in about ten minutes."

Normally, I hated the kind of prose Mrs. Welsh made us write. We always had a writing prompt about something I couldn't care less about. It was never anything worthwhile for a junior in high school to write about. But having free rein over my topic just made me happy. Because after my horrible experience from this weekend, I was plenty passionate. And it also just so happened the topic would probably hit a few nerves for certain girls in my class, who I not only wanted to hit said nerves, but pinch them.

Picking up my pen, I began to scribble words on the paper.

Shortly after finishing, Mrs. Welsh called us up, one by one to read our short prose. 

"Callie, please come forward." 

I had a stupid grin on my face from ear to ear. I stood up and took my place front and center.

"Shopping." All the boys in the class groan, but I just chuckle to myself. Most of them like my target about as much as I do, which is not at all. So I shrug off their grumblings and continue.

"I don't think there is anything I hate more than that word. The prime evil word that somehow is supposed to sum up the entire female population and their passion. The ridiculous pettiness of spending all you have on worthless pieces of cloth to cover your body (or not, as is the case for most of the world). As a girl, I detest everything having to do with this word, every meaning it possesses. Except for one aspect." I looked up at everyone and smirked.

"Shoes," I waggled my eyebrows and the class laughed. Everyone knew this to be true.

"If there is anything that could label me as a girl, this would be it. I was never girly as a little kid, but oh, if you gave me free rein on shoe shopping with $500, I would blow it all in an hour. My personal favorite are Converse, as has been the case ever since I was in sixth grade. I have 9 pairs, with one in the mail and another pair coming for Christmas. Although my parents don't know that yet," I said with a wink while everyone burst into laughter.

"However, there was always one aspect of shoes that I could never stand." I let the sentence hang for a moment before continuing.

"Heels," I said with apparent disgust. "Those disturbing death traps created to make a woman's butt look smaller and harder for us to run away from creeps. I've always felt like heels were worthless scraps (they don't even deserve to be called shoes), but I had the unfortunate happening of shopping specifically for those this last weekend for my sister's wedding.

All I can say is this: worst experience of my life.

And now after 5 hours of heel shopping and walking around in them to break them in and two full days later, I brush my finger over the blister on each of my feet." I reach down and rub my aching foot, then look up at Sabrina with a smirk on my face, queen of the preps.

"I can't help but wonder who is crazy enough to wear these beasts on a regular basis. Not just because they hurt like no other, but because it makes them look like petty, preppy and, if I'm being totally honest, a hooker." I make sure "Sabs" is looking me in the eye as I finish.

"I pity them."

Swiftly I take my seat again as I hear the applause from all around me. Serves you right, I think to myself. You mess with Clark, you mess with me. 

I can't help but smile to myself, satisfied.

5 am Work

I woke up late this morning. Apparently I forgot to set my alarm, because my mom came bursting into my room, turning on my lights, which is how I awoke.
"What are you doing?" I mumble groggily, rolling over on my pillow.
"Aren't you going to work? It's 4:30! Get up!" She flickered the lights a few times before going off to her room again. I couldn't help but sigh and grumble and wish I could go back to sleep. But the new semester starts next week, I need the money.
I rolled out of bed and got ready in five minutes. After the 20 minute drive to work, I pulled out my card to get into my building. I was so tired, though, that I dropped it right before I was able to slide it through the reader.
It wasn't until my fourth try that the little light flickered to green and unlocked the door. I opened the door and screamed.
"Raaawwwr!" is all I heard before I sent out the blood curdling cry.
"Jamie!" I hollered at the huge black man standing in front of me, who was giggling like a maniac.
"I hate you, you know! Absolutely hate you. You have no idea how glad I am tomorrow is your last day working here," I huffed, walking away as quickly as possible.
I clocked in with a sigh and walked to my cleaning closet, ignoring all onlookers. Well, at least I wasn't tired anymore.

Snot Rocket

Based on a true story. 


I think I'm going to die of over eating.
There's no way for me to describe the amount of food that I just had to shovel into my mouth. I don't know why, but for some reason, my host mom thought it was a brilliant idea to serve me a smorgasbord for breakfast. Which is ridiculous seeing as I've been trying to eat less since they put oil in everything here and I gained disgusting oil weight... Ew. But that being beside the point, my stomach has gotten so much smaller, that I honestly thought I was going to have to throw up as I walked down the stairs and out to the trolley stop.
I was being stared at by everyone this morning. I didn't think I looked too out of the ordinary than I normally did, but I had a tendency to forget I was in Ukraine which is totally foreign from America. My jeans didn't have have jewel studs everywhere and I was a girl not wearing heels, so obviously something was wrong with me. These people, I tell you. Normally, I didn't mind the weird looks and stupid stares. But today I was having to try really hard not to let my breakfast come back out the way it came in and this made me super self conscious.
I tried not to let it bother me. Instead, I looked at the people around me, tried to focus on them and what they were doing. I quickly found out that that was the worst possible idea for me to do at that moment.
Right as I looked up, I saw a man walking the opposite direction. Right as I looked at his face, he lifted his hand to his face. I figured it was just going to be an itch, but oh, no.
Putting one finger up to his nose, he took a deep breath and blew. A huge thing flew right into my path. I felt myself gag as I stared at the snot rocket, gaping up at me from the ground. And I couldn't hold it in any longer.
I flung myself as far off the sidewalk as I possibly good, right up against the gray Soviet looking apartment building and upchucked. Pretty soon I had a crowd of people around me, looks of pure disgust drawn on their faces. I quickly walked away from there and hopped on the 26 trolley, onto my route to school.
Nothing like a delicious snot rocket to brighten your morning, I think, trying not to gag again at the reminder of it. At least I know all the oil from this morning didn't have a chance to stick around. For what it's worth.

Max

It's me again. Of course. Who else would write in my journal?

I've been thinking a lot recently. About myself. Shocker, eh? But I've come up with a question I wish I could ask the world.

Have you ever felt so lost to the point that you don't even know what it wrong? That's how I'm feeling these days.

My best friend walked away from me. Well, not just my best friend. My boyfriend too. And I guess he didn't really walk away. It's a service, after all. But it feels like he left me. Left me in the dust.

I didn't realize how much losing him for a year in Japan while he taught English to little kids would effect me. I knew I was going to miss him; wouldn't you? But this was something different. It isn't just his kisses that I miss, although surely I do. And it's not even his hugs either. I haven't been able to figure it out for the half a year he's been gone. But today, I did.

I had assumed I was going to be lonely. I mean, who wouldn't be? But I couldn't fathom just how lonely I really could be. And as the days dragged on, the more of a recluse I became, until I realized that's what I was becoming. A hermit. I stopped that though, and made a point of hanging out with people whenever it was possible between college and work. But it was never enough. It was never the same.

I am lonely. Not man lonely, wanting a relationship or anything of the sort. Not even a friends with benefits kinda guy, or even someone to cuddle with during movies. I am friendship lonely. Sure, I have friends, people I hang out with. But true friends are hard to come by, and are few and far between. And after losing the best one I could possibly have, who else could compare?

I try to be more optimistic. Surely someone, a girl preferably, could reach me like he did. A friend who just gets me. Knows when that hug is needed, when a suggestion of advice is welcome, and when I just need to rant. But they don't get it.

No one gets it.

So here I am, still. Lost and lonely. And waiting. Always waiting.

Carli O'Hare

I put my pen down. This sounded pathetic. I sounded like some lovesick girl who didn't have a life, had no friends, and no prospects at a decent future outside of hermitdom. But if I couldn't be real to my journal, where else could I be?

Max walks into my room then, jumping up on my knees, trying to lick my face.

"Hey, boy," I say with a small smile, rubbing him behind the ears. He gives me a soft bark of encouragement. At least Max is always there for me. That dog is faithful, more faithful than almost any human I know. 

I close my journal and crawl into bed. Pulling the covers up over my body, I pat my hand on the bed, encouraging Max to hop up with me. He curls up at the foot of my bed and lays his head on my leg. I reach down at pet my black lab one more time before lying my head down to rest. Hopefully, he will keep the lonesome dreams away tonight, and would still be there for me in the morning. At least I've got Max, I think one last time before drifting off to sleep.

Storm

Here I lay down in the grass
As the wind flies up around me.
My hair blows across my face
And I can barely see.

I feel the drops upon my face
Before my eyes can see the rain.
Tears cascade down my cheeks;
The rain hiding all the pain.

Drenched in water
Chilled to the bone.
I'm waiting for the storm to pass.

Lightning flashes.
The thunder rolls.
And I just lay here on the grass.

I stare up at the heavens
And in my mind I cry,
"Why me? Why me?"

I wait there for my answer,
Pleading for it to come.
But, oh. It won't.

I've lost what means the most to me.
I've lost the greatest part of me.
That gift from God.
It's lost from me.

Today is Not My Day

I hadn't had too many perfect days in my life, and this definitely wasn't one of them.
This was one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. It didn't matter what I did today, because no matter what, I had the worst luck. Not only did I wake up late for work, I then got splashed by a car driving through a puddle as I walked in. Oh, and I can't forget the rip in my pants that came during lunch. And it's only 1 pm right now. Needless to say, I'm not excited for the rest of what's to happen today.
I tried not to be in a sour mood. Really, I did. But that wasn't working well. It seemed like no matter what I did, it just got worse. I went back to working after I finished eating. I was so excited because I had a potential sale that was going to make me bank. It was going so well, and then it completely fell through, and away it went.
I decided to just call it a day and go home on sick leave. Maybe just getting some rest is what I needed. As I went home, I heard a noise coming from behind me. I looked into my rear view mirror and hit my head against the headrest.
"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered as I continued to stare at the blue and red flashing lights coming after me. I pulled over for him to talk to me. By the end of it, I was furious. This was ridiculous. I was expecting maybe a warning at worse. But, oh no. Instead, I got a ticket for speeding. I was going 1 mph over.
After that, I just gave up. Right when I got home, I flopped into bed and pulled the covers over my head. Goodbye reality. Hello dreamland.

Worthless

I feel cold.
Lifeless.
Nothing.
It’s as if I don’t exist.

I’m just lost.
Forlorn.
Confused.
What am I to anyone?

I sit here.
Waiting.
Wishing.
Hoping that I can break free.

The chains hold.
Tighten.
Clenching.
Binding me for what I’ve done.

Oh, dear Lord,
What have I done?

Lesson Stealer

I was frantic.
I had only taught one of my morning classes so far and I had two more still to do in the next hour. Not to mention the three classes I had to teach later in the afternoon. But I couldn't teach my lesson if I didn't have my lesson.
I had decided to play the game memory with my kids. One of the five kids I'd already taught, Taras (the cutest little boy you'd ever seen), was obsessed with elephants. And the memory cards just so happened to be in the shape of elephants. So whenever another child got a match, boy did he freak out.
"No!" he would scream. "I'm Taras Elephant! Those my card!" And then he proceeded to cry. Loudly.
"Taras, it's ok. You can get a match too."
"No! It's mine!" he continued to scream.
After about ten minutes, his mom finally came in and took him to the side to talk with and coddle him. That's when I took the rest of the kids and brought them to their next rotation. But by the time I went back to my classroom, my lesson was gone. No elephant memory cards were to be found anywhere. I had a rotation in another 15 minutes, and I didn't have anything to go off of.
I searched high and low for those cards, but nowhere I looked were they there. I asked the other teachers if they had seen it, but none of them had. Anyone I asked had no idea where my game was, and no one had seen it. I finally gave up when I saw my new rotation of kids walking into my classroom.
Halfway through my third class of the morning, an hour later, Taras' mom came walking into my classroom again. Trying to be discreet, she placed the game on the cupboard and quickly walked off. I glared at the exit she went out of.
She stole my lesson plan. She stole my lesson plan. And walked off with it, disregarding everything about me and my other kids.
Oh, that lady was gonna get it. Oksana was going to give her a nice yelling. That's the one thing I loved about Ukrainians. They're blunt. They get to the point. And they don't back down.
As long as she gets that, I'll be happy.
Stupid lesson stealer.

Dallas

I absolutely adore little kids. There is a reason I majored in Elementary Education and now teach second graders. Sometimes, though, they get a little bit off their rockers.
One morning when I had asked for all the kids spelling homework, I noticed that Dallas didn't pass his forward. I need to explain him a bit. He was the cream of the crop. I had never met a kid that was more studious at such a young age. He always had his homework done on time; usually before it was even due. For Dallas to not have it most likely meant that something awful was going on at home, or some such thing.
Cautiously, I walked over to him and got down to his level, looking him in the eye.
"Hey, Dallas. You didn't pass your homework up. That's really unusual for you."
He refused to look at me once I had finished.
"Is there a reason for that?"
Dallas made a point of looking anywhere but at me.
"Come on now. You can tell me. I'm not going to get mad, Dallas. What is it?"
Slowly, his eyes came in contact with mine. Quietly, he began to mumble something. I couldn't hear him and asked if he could repeat himself. This time, he spoke loud, very loud, and clear.
"Aliens beamed down and sucked up my homework to the Mothership!"
All I could do was stare at him in disbelief. Had he really just said that? Surely I heard him wrong.
"What was that?"
He made an exasperated sigh. "A-li-ens-came-down-and-sucked-up-my-home-work-to-the-Mo-ther-ship."
I stood and shook my head slightly. Dallas always turned in the rest of him homework, and had never been late even once. I decided it would be best to just let this one slide...
Obviously, someone has let Dallas watch Signs a few too many times...

Now That's Embarrassing.

You know the time I'm talking about. That moment where your whole world just comes crashing down because you are beet red and feel like dying. For me, though, I got lucky. My moment wasn't in front of a huge crowd, not amongst random strangers, or even with any of my close friends. It was just me, my mind, and my host dad being a little too friendly...
I've been studying Russian since I was in high school. For some reason, it's always intrigued me. And then I went on in college to study Russian too, and decided to minor in it (because what use is a Russian major, after all?). In order to do that at the university I was attending however, it was mandatory to go on a study abroad to Moscow. As if I was going to complain about that! I had always wanted to go the birth place of my language obsession! And now, here was my chance and there was no way I was about to pass it up.
We were assigned to host families so that they would be able to help our language skills progress better, more fluently and accented correctly. It was something I had only dreamed about when I was a little 15 year old first starting high school. One day... I used to tell myself, One day, Kiri, you're going to get to go to Russia. And that day had finally come.
Meeting my family I was so exciting! I got very lucky because not only did I have a little host sister, I had two! What a rare thing for Russia! My host dad's name was Oleg, my mom's Olya. My older little sister was Asya and the little one year old was Masha. I fell in love with those two little girls so quick. And my host mom was quite the amazing cook; I was impressed! I got along with my host dad really well, we talked a lot in English too so he could practice as much as me. But there was one point where we got... well, got along a little too well. At least, he did anyway.
I shared a room with Asya. We had a bunk bed, and I slept on the bottom, she on the top. Sometimes, she would fall asleep in her parents bed and Oleg would have to bring Asya in to sleep so he wouldn't roll onto her in the night. And it was one fateful night after having only been there a month that the most embarrassing moment of my life happened.
It was 3 am. I had just barely woke up against my will and was still slightly groggy. I rolled over so my body was facing the door and suddenly, it began to creak open.
Before I knew what was going on, I saw Oleg's form walk into the room, with Asya in his arms. At first I thought it was cute--after all, a dad was putting his little girl to bed. But as he kept coming closer, a small sliver of light came in through the window. I squeezed my eyes shut as quickly as I could.
As cute is it may be to see a father put his child to sleep, this was far from cute. I knew the Russian culture was bound to be different than America, but I hadn't prepared myself for this aspect.
Somehow, it slipped my mind that, as it got warmer, Russians got more naked, more frequently. Which was a horrifying thought for someone who had never seen anyone older than the age of two naked, so who knows how I spaced it. In fact, they get naked to the point where they wear nothing to bed, even with company (as it turns out). Because right before I was able to slam my eyes closed, I got the unfortunate view of my entire host dad. Right in front of my face as he lifted Asya to bed right above me.
Needless to say, that was the most horrifying moment of my life.
I never spoke of it to any in my host family. And to this day, Oleg still doesn't know I got to see him in his birthday suit. And I plan to take that information with me to the grave.

Atonement

I realized when I was born
I'm far from perfect here.
I don't know what I'm doing and
That brings so many fears.

I know I'm going to grow up
But what will I become?
Will I be rude, or proud or lust?
No, I'll follow His Son.
The One who saved all human kind
The One who came back home.

And though I know I'm gonna sin
And mess up frequently,
I'll try my best to do what's right
And just live righteously.

But when I make all my mistakes
And my heart continues to ache
I know through my Savior, my friend
I will be washed and clean again.

Eyes

Have you ever had that moment
The one where everything stands still?
You lock eyes,
And then
Nothing else seems real.

Gazing into those hazel orbs
Glimpsing fear and awe from within,
Heart rates rise,
And then
Love bursts forth from them.

Romantic notions left aside.
Friends being there for each other.
Hope filled ties.
And then
I'm getting smothered.

Not with kisses or sweet nothings
But with arms wrapped around me tight.
I'm surprised
And then
His smile brings me light.

I look in his eyes, questioning,
Wondering, "What do I mean to you?"
His eyes smile,
And then
Proclaims, "I love you."

In a way that's meant for two
Like best friends, just me and you.
And then
I whisper.
"I love you, too."

This only kinda worked out how I wanted it to. And only a few people will know what this experience is actually referring to.

Rainmaker

I'm sure almost all of you can guess who this is about...

Whenever I have lost all hope

Or can't free myself from despair

I have a friend who pulls me out

Who gives me peace and some to spare.

There's a hope that lies within him

That makes me feel again

That pushes back the confusion inside

That let's the peace remain.

He surely isn't perfect

He's just a human, too

But he's where I find serenity

Like something or someone for you.

A kiss on the cheek,

A hug or a wave

Stops the commotion inside

And within me engraves

A calmness, a stillness,

A perfect tranquil state

That allows me to keep going on

And never have to wait

For some other person

Or even a thing

To calm the fury inside me

And make my heart want to sing.

For that reason and more

I can't help but adore

My rainmaker, my friend,

My peace giver to the end.

Let You Go

Here I wait, just for you.
You always say that I'm your best friend.
I'd say that you are too,
But the truth is, you're not in the end.

You never listen,
You never try.
You always bail,
You always lie.

You only call me when you're crying,
But, babe, this time I'm just not buying.

It's not about you and him,
It's about me and you.
And this time, dear,
You've bit off more than you can chew.

I don't have to stick around
Just to wait and get let down.

But I do.
For you.

And so here I sit, once again.
Waiting on you.
And here it is, once again.
You never show.
 
I think this means it's time to let you go.

Work Jerk

Oi. I'm really sleepy. So this is probably super inconsistent, and probably doesn't make sense on most accounts. Sorry. I'll work on it later. By the way, this is entirely based on a true story. Mine, actually.
 
I was absolutely dreading work today. And not just because it's work and no one actually likes to work. Oh, no. Up until a couple days ago, I actually enjoyed my cleaning shift, working alone. It gavce me lots of time to think and clear my head.
And then Carter came.
Carter was hired to help me with my cleaning of five buildings on campus every day. I really tried to get to know this guy, even though all my instincts were screaming no. This is because every guy I'd met in college so far was a creeper. Like Steve, 3 months earlier, who creeped me out so bad, I bought a fake engagement ring just to get him off my back. When he saw it for the first time, he drilled me. Not just politely asking questions about him. Oh no, he made it sound like my imaginary perfect man wasn't good enough for me. Then proceeded to ask me out. Ew.
Back to Carter. I had only been working with him for one day, one day, when he started to freak me out. He knew from the get go I had a boyfriend. I mean, honestly, I wore the locket he gave me with his picture in it every day, without fail.
However, although he continued to hit on me after 3 days, or rather, his pathetic attempts at flirting, I was fed up. Especially with incidents like this:
"You look like such a guy." And then 2 minutes later, "Do you want me to buy you breakfast?" Uh, no. Never. What part of "boyfriend" do you not understand Carter? Not to mention that the next day, he told me I looked cute. Ew again.
The problem with carter was not only the fact that he creeped me out, but he had only just been hired and I had no power to get him fired.
We had just been sitting in the office when he decided to offend me again.
"You're such a..." then Carter started to chuckle to himself.
"I'm a what, Carter?" I asked, annoyed. "I mean, really, if you're going to make fun of me, at least finish the insult!"
That just mad him laugh even harder, and I just got more peeved at him.
"Seriously, do you want me to treat you like a three year old and count to five? Because I will."
Carter gave the "you're crazy" look, and continued to cackle. i was done. Sick and tired of getting free food, being told I look like a boy one day and then really cute the next. I was so not dealing with him anymore.
I lifted my hand up and began counting down.
"5,4,3..." and then, he shocked me beyond anything else he'd said or done.
He grabbed my hand. Not just putting his hand over mine, but completely intertwining his fingers with mine, than he had the audacity to look me in the eyes.
I promptly kicked him in the shin.
He reached down to rub his leg as I stood.
"Try that again, and it'll be a kick to the family jewels," I warned him. Then, turning on my heel and walked out the door, satisfied.
I'd like to see him try anything with me again. The jerk.

Blogger Messaging

Confessions

of a 

Teenage Flibbertigibbet

Thursday, August 12, 2010
Hilariously Clueless

It's frustrating, you know, to have to talk to someone only by messages. Not even text messages, or instant messages. But like, email messages. You know, the age old things no one ever uses anymore except to send out their resume? They're almost as bad as actual letters, snail mail. You have to sit, and wait and hope they're on and then hope they respond in a timely manner. But does that ever actually happen? Ha! Hardly. And the worst of all these "messaging" systems is Blogger's.
I always have thought myself as a pretty tech savvy girl. You know, the one who can figure out just about anything on any computer site there is if given a few minutes to do so. But oh, no. That is most definitely not so after Blogger messaging happened. Nothing like using a different messaging system to figure out how to use the Blogger messaging system, only to find out that we could've just given each other our email addresses and saved ourselves a lot of time.

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?"

I turn to face him. The person I've been trying to message for days. Matt.

"Yeah, yeah I know."

"Are you seriously writing a story about this? Can you make me look pretty?"
"Hey, not all of us have crazy minds that can be thinking of ten million things at once. I couldn't think of anything. And this was just too funny. Plus I'm tired. Now, leave me alone." I stuck my tongue out at him and turned away, ignoring his "pretty boy" remark.

Back to the blog post.

So here's how it happened:
"I'm curious. Did you get the message I sent through blogger?"-Matt.
When I got this, I just kept thinking, There's a messaging system through Blogger? Hmm. Nope, had no idea.
"Nope, because I have no idea where to go for that. Shouldn't it have gone to my email account? Because it didn't, if that's the case."-Myself.
I then proceeded to search for possible ways to one, find said message I had not received, and two reply back. After about twenty minutes, I found where my secret message had been hiding!
"Well, I sort of figured it out. It says that they will get to my email shortly... but it's been 20 minutes now. I'll get it eventually thought I guess."-Myself.
Shortly after this discovery, I went to bed thinking, Meh, I'll get the message in the morning. Only, no message ever came. However, I did get another reply from Matt... via the wrong messaging system, again.
"Well, that's sort of interesting. Try to send me one (assuming you haven't yet). I want to see what happens."-Matt.
I sighed. I didn't even know where to look to find out where to message. I used the search bar, scoured his profile and yet found nothing. I gave up. It was now the next day, plenty of time had passed for that message to get to me like Blogger said it would, and still nothing.
"So, I never got it. I give up. And I can't even figure out how to send one to you. I hate this site. It's stupid."-Myself.
Minutes later, I got a reply. Holy Canole, we were on at the same time! A messaging miracle!
"There must be something simple we are missing. Maybe I messed up how you are supposed to send it. Isn't that really the simplest solution?"-Matt.
I thought about it for a moment, and realized he was probably right. Maybe. Hopefully.
"Try sending another one. It says I have one that is waiting to be viewed, but maybe it won't come to me because I had it disabled before?" That had better be the reason, or I was going to be one super annoyed chica.
"Haha. This is fun. We're so hilariously clueless. I sent another message. And then randomly also sent some sort of friend request."-Matt.
Yeah. Real fun. It's only taken us... 36 hours to figure out the blasted thing. Assuming we even did.

Oh wait. One second, I have to go check my Gmail. I think I just got a message!
"Test 1, 2, 3, Anything but that."-Matt, via his email.

What. Please tell me you're joking. Messaging via Blogger is just emailing each other?! Bah!

Needless to say, I felt rather stupid. Hilariously clueless? Yeah, that sounds about right. I got a good laugh at our pathetic-ness and being computer inept though. At least there was that much right? However, the next time I need to message, I'm going to stick to text or instant messaging.

Preferably the original instant message, shown here:

I hope you all have an instant message happy day! ;) Good luck getting a pretty boy like Matt.

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Posted by Peyton Mae Taylor at 4:56 PM          0 comments

Uncle Seth

Alright, I lied. This will be the last one. This was the only thing I wrote today since I was studying for finals, and I really need to go to bed before work bright and early at 5 am! And this is pretty rushed I think, but oh well. Here goes:

I knew I was awake. I could feel my consciousness arousing but I couldn't seem to shake the grogginess I was feeling off. I tried to open my eyes, but they slid closed again after getting only half way there. My body was aching everywhere and I didn't dare move. I heard people prattling on about something, but it was all mumbling to me. My hearing wasn't clear at all, and my head was fogged up. Finally, I gave in and fell back asleep.

I refused to fall asleep again this time. I was going to get up. After trying to stay fully alert four times, I was determined to stay awake. I managed to get my eyes all the way open, but when I looked around my vision was blurry. Lifting my arm, I tried to rub them out a little bit, but it ached to move any part of my body. Even just shaking my head softly trying to clear my mind caused massive amounts of pain. A nurse must have seen the pained look on my face as I felt another shot of pain meds get squirted into my IV and spread throughout  my body.
"Thanks," I mumbled to the unknown angel. They would never know just how much those drugs meant to me. But maybe that was the drugs talking.
"You're welcome, Macayle. Hey dear, are you really awake this time? If you are, there's someone here to see you. The doctor said that once you woke up you could have visitors, and once you get checked, you could most likely leave here."
Kathrine was back again, and she was looking at me at eye level. I appreciated the gesture, making it seem like she wasn't looking down upon me. I smiled a little at the thought of a visitor, but it was the fact I was going to be released so very soon that made me grin. My mind began rummaging through all the people I knew that would come to see me, if any could break me free. Danae was probably my best bet, but I supposed it could be any number of the girls on the team. It definitely wouldn't be any family, seeing as I had none even relatively close to the area.
"Yeah, sure. Who is it?"
"Oh, he'll be right in momentarily." Hmm, I wonder who it could be. He, eh? Odd.
I continued to think about who this mystery man could possibly be. I guess Jason could be it. Or Dallas perhaps. Ew. I really hope it's not Dallas, I grimaced. No one wanted to have a stalker around, and definitely not at the hospital no less. Oh, no, I realized how stupid I was. It will be Tanner. Forced friends since childhood for being neighbors until we grew up enough to actually like each other. It's got to be him.
Lying down more peacefully at figuring out who it was, I tried not to get too anxious. I hadn't seen anyone since... the accident. I wasn't even sure how many days it had been since that happened. For all I knew it was two weeks ago.
I made a mental note to ask Kathrine when she came back in how long I'd been here. Once it had been etched into my mind, I heard a knock on my door.
"Come in," I called out, my nerves acting up. I plastered a smile on my face, hoping to at least look somewhat okay for company.
The man that walked through the door though was not at all who I was expecting.
Uncle Seth was seven years older than I was, but he didn't look a day over 18. At 24, he was really well off and hardly ever worked anymore. He was one of those millionaires because he invented some gizmo for some gaming system; I wasn't actually sure. Video games were never my strong point. Then again, to be honest, I didn't know much about him at all. Not to mention the fact I hadn't seen him in almost four years, not since Aaron's funeral. From what I heard from my parents, he had done a lot of changing in the last six years, two of which he spent in another country preaching who knows what. He left about a month after the funeral. Other than that though, I didn't pay enough attention to understand anything else they told me about him since he never came back to visit. All I knew was that shortly after he got back, he landed a job with Nintendo, or Blizzard or some other big wig gaming company and his life had since skyrocketed.
"Hey, Macayle. What's with the look of shock on your face? Aren't you happy to see your old Uncle?" he asked with a grin. My face softened then and a small smile came to be. It was refreshing to have someone smile at me for once and not just look at me with concern drawn on their face.
"It's been a while. I was sure you'd forgotten about me you know. You kind of disappeared after Aaron passed away."
He looked down, ashamed perhaps? I couldn't tell. It took him a moment to look back at me. "I know I did," was all he said.
"Hey, don't worry about it," I told him. "Life happens, right?" I made that sound much more bitter than I'd meant it to be. It wasn't directed at him, but more of my whole situation in life right now.
"Yeah, it does. But that doesn't excuse anything. You're my family, one of the closest relatives I've got. Probably the closest relative now, actually."
My heart hurt for him a bit. I guess I wasn't the only one to lose a family member. He lost his sister, whom he had been very close to. Now I just felt selfish.
"I was wondering though, if you'd let me make that up to Mac?"
My eyes narrowed at him. What could he possibly do that could accomplish that?
"If you don't have any other arrangements, I want you to come live with me. I mean, I've got the room and the resources to say the least, and to be honest I miss having you around. You were practically a little sister to me, every summer I stayed with your mom."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he really offering to let me move in? No, no, I must have heard wrong. I stared at him skeptically. He must have taken my shock as a bad sign as he continued speaking.
"I'm sorry Macayle. I used to be such a big part of your life, and then, I just fell off the face of the earth." He sighed to himself before proceeding. "I'm here now though. Do you think you can forgive me?" His eyes were pleading with me, hoping that I could look past all these things had happened and were happening and just embrace him with open arms.
I was more than willing. I still had family left, even if it was just an uncle. That was more than I could say a few days ago. I couldn't help it as a grin began to come across my face
"For sure, Uncle Seth." The look on his face was priceless. I wished I had had a way to capture it somehow. "Don't you think it's about time to break me free from this place?"
He was grinning from ear to ear. "Alright, alright. I'll get you out of here. We'll leave as soon as you can be released. Sound good?" I could hear the excitement in his voice.
"Oh yeah," I said, mimicking the Kool-aid man. He laughed at me as he practically skipped out the door.
I chuckled, content. Maybe life wasn't going to be so bad. I may have lost my parents, and it may be horrible and awful and entirely not fair, but at least I had Uncle Seth. I had to keep telling myself that, or who knows what would happen to my sanity.

Hospital

This will be the last I do in this story for a while. I don't want to put up the whole thing online, you know. I will post some here and there however.

I could hear a beeping noise coming from my right. I just wanted some sleep and that alarm clock was making that desire difficult for me to make happen. Not that I wanted to go back to dreaming that horrific dream I had been having, but my body was aching. I needed the rest. I tried to make myself comfortable as I was in my bed, but for some reason it felt lumpy. I began to breathe deeper and inhaled once through my nose. It smelled horrible. All clean and sanitary, like I was in a psyche ward or something.
I tried to ignore that pestering sound, but it wasn't about to go off. I was going to have to hit snooze or something if I planned on getting anymore shut eye.
I reached over and smacked it with my hand, trying to shut it up. Instantly I regretted that decision.
A scream ripped from my throat as I opened my eyes wide. My pulse skyrocketed. My breathing started to become more sporadic. My body froze in shock as I caught a glimpse of my arm. My forearm was wrapped up in gauze and I didn't even want to know what else. Different kinds of goop had been generously slopped all over my arm. Taking a look at my bicep further up, it was covered with little nicks of dry blood. Bringing my eyes to my left arm, I saw an IV sticking in my elbow. A blanket was laid on top of my body, but I didn't need to see my foot to know that it was hurt, badly. Not to mention the soreness I could feel all up my right leg, most likely caused by bruising. I sunk my head back on the pillow and groaned as a wave of pain flew up my leg from my foot.
That's when reality began to sink in. I hadn't had a dream.
I could feel the blood pumping in my veins, pumping through my arm. That beeping noise didn't stop, but instead began to go faster and became much louder. My instinct was to smack it again, to shut it up, but I was afraid of the pain it would cause. Not that that mattered much anymore. I had a constant throb in both my forearm and foot.
"Oh, no. What happened?" a far too high pitched voice questioned. I turned to face her. A nurse, Kathrine, had made her way into my room. I stared at her blankly for a moment but quickly recovered. A million questions ran through my mind now that there was someone to answer them.
"How long have I been in the hospital? Why is my arm throbbing? What's wrong with me? Where are my parents? They were with me before." My mouth was running a mile a minute and I couldn't stop the words from breaking free. I was worried and concerned. No, those weren't the right words. They didn't bring enough meaning or emotion. Overwhelmed, I thought. And even that is an understatement.
"Well," she hesitated, "how much do you remember, Macayle?"
I don't know, I thought. What did I forget?
Another pulse of pain overwhelmed me and I flinched slightly. "Um, can I first ask you to give me some pain meds? Morphine, Oxycontin, Lortab? Anything? Even a Tylenol would be appreciated at this point."
"I'm so sorry. I'll put another dose in your IV right now. Perhaps you could tell me what happened as I do so?" She walked over and shot some more of some medication into my bloodstream, all the while keeping her eyes on me. I nodded slightly.
"Well, I had just made the winning shot at our state basketball tournament, when I got shoved, and something happened to my ankle. My parents started driving me here, I was in a lot of pain..." I drifted off, thinking about all the types of pain I went through. I really needed to stop dwelling on my brother. The nurse waved her hand in front of my face. I blinked a few times, shaking my head.
"Sorry, did I zone out?"
"Yeah, you did. You feeling alright?" she asked, concerned.
I raised an eyebrow at her. "What does it look like?" I asked back sarcastically.
"Right. Stupid question deserves stupid response. Well, do you remember anything else, Macayle?"
I thought about what happened after I thought about Aaron. I didn't want to remember those vivid moments though. "Yeah, uh. We got in a car wreck. A truck, I think, hit my side of the car. I remember my dad leaning over to try and protect my mom, but then everything else is a blur. I can't recall the rest of it. I don't know how I got here. I don't know what's happened to my parents, if they're even alright." I paused, studying her face. "They are alright, aren't they?"
Her face scrunched up a bit. "Actually, Macayle, there's something you ought to know."
I felt the blood rush from my face. I could feel myself go pasty white, my arms and entire body go numb. This isn't happening. La, la, la. Nothing is wrong. She's just playing a joke on me.
"Macayle, you say your dad tried to protect your mom, right? Well, I'm sorry to say that your mother is believed to have died on impact. The second impact. Another car hit you and your parents just moments after the truck." I gasped. My hands flew to my face, but no tears came. "The second impact caused shrapnel to break off, and multiple parts hit your father. One relatively small piece in his arm and two others in his right shoulder and the right half of his chest. It punctured the lung. Your father is now in the ICU, but he's in critical condition. They don't think he's going to make it, nor do they know how long he'll last."
I could no longer feel the pain in my body. My mom was gone. My dad was dying. My brother passed away years ago. I was broken. And I thought I had nothing to live for when we were driving to the hospital? If that was nothing, what do I call this?
I was numb. I didn't know if that numbness was caused by the pain medications or from the shock, but from wherever it was, I was grateful for it. I couldn't handle anymore of this. Not today. Not ever.
My entire family is dead or dying. I have no one.
"I want to go see my dad. I don't care if he's in the ICU. I don't care that I've got a bunch of machines hooked up to me, pipes inside me, or whatever. I need to see him. Now."
"I don't know if we can do that..." Kathrine said warily.
I just stared at her in disbelief. Surely, she did not just say that.
"Excuse me? You just tell me that my mom is dead and my dad is dying, but you're not going to let me even see him before he passes away and I never see him again? You have got to be kidding me!"
I was furious. There was no way this girl was going to keep me from seeing my dad at least one more time while he still lived.
I scooted to the edge of the bed and swiftly got up before falling back to the bed. I groaned in pain again. Apparently walking was not going to be happening any time soon. Kathrine gave me a slightly smug look. Bad idea. Fine then. I'll crawl.
Just as I started to get down on my hands and knees, Kathrine ran over to me, frantic.
"Hey, now, slow down slugger. I don't think so. Give me two minutes and I'll be back with a wheelchair, alright? Just two minutes. Breathe."
I took a deep breath as she walked out of the room. I sat on the bed impatiently. I couldn't even swing my legs to and fro because of my injuries and I was sure she took much longer than two minutes. Or so it seemed.
"I can let you go see him for a little while, but then you'll have to come back and rest. Your body is not ready for any of this and can't cope with so much stress with so little sleep and rest."
I nodded mechanically, not really listening to her. I didn't really care at the moment. I was going to see my dad.
It just so happened that the ICU was on the other side of the hospital so it took forever to get there. But when we finally did, I was relieved for about five seconds before pain enveloped me.
I now understood why they were sure he wasn't going to make it.
Although they had removed the shrapnel, you could tell from the swelling and bleeding, even through the bandages, just how serious it was. I asked if I could go in and see him and Kathrine promptly wheeled me in.
Just by looking at him my face was contorted into something awful. Slowly, I reached out and touched his hand, just about the only thing that wasn't wrapped up. His eyes drifted open and a small smile came on his face as he recognized who I was.
"Macayle, I'm glad... you're ok," he said in between his heavy breathing.
"Hey, don't talk dad. I'm doing fine. Don't worry about me." I was starting to choke up. I didn't know how long I was going to be able to see my dad like this.
He reached out slowly and brushed my hair out of my face. He let his thumb rub my cheek for a moment before he brought his hand up to his mouth. Kissing it softly, he then returned it to my cheek. I saw a tear trickle down his cheek and suddenly my own vision was blurred.
"I love you, Macayle. I'm so proud of you. So proud. I love you."
A choking noise came from my throat. Saying I love you was never something that happened in my house growing up. This was huge.
I tried to put a smile on my face. "I love you too, Dad," I whispered softly, but I knew he heard me. His eyes began to twinkle and a soft smile played about his lips. And then he let his eyes drift closed. His hand dropped from holding my face. The heart monitor went dead.
And with it went my dad.
Doctors immediately came rushing in, hoping to revive him. I tried to watch as long as I could to see what they were doing to try and save him. But then I saw the dejected look on the Doctor's face. He said something I couldn't hear, and a nearby nurse wrote something on a clipboard. The Doctor's eyes met mine before his face fell.
"I'm so sorry," was all he said.
Gone. All gone.
My mind was like a swarm of bees. I couldn't hear anything after that except the shallow breathing coming from somewhere. It took me a moment to realize it was me. I felt myself sweating and going light headed. These shallow breaths were not helping anything. I looked around the room frantically, searching something—anything. I needed something stable in my life, but it seemed like everything that meant anything was being ripped out from under me. The tears started to stream down my face and once again I was so overwhelmed, my mind shut my body down.

Car Crash

I couldn't help but moan in pain. My lack of any meds, even just some Tylenol, was beginning to wear on me. I used to think I was pretty tolerant of pain, but obviously I was wrong. It's no wonder my mom stopped at two kids. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain that would be.
"Are you holding up alright Macayle? Is the ice doing anything to help?" Mom asked, turning directly behind her to look at me. Then she glanced at my left foot with the ice which was stretched out onto the driver's side of the back seat.
"Sure. I don't know. It just hurts." Short, concise sentences were best right now. My voice cracked in pain every time I opened my mouth as it was, so speaking anymore than was necessary wasn't a great idea.
I stared out my window, feeling numb. Not physically numb, but mentally, emotionally. At best, my ankle would only be sprained. If that was the case, I would be able to get up and run around within a couple of weeks. That would be ideal. Unfortunately, however, I had had many sprained ankles in my lifetime from all my sports, and never had a mere sprain felt like this before. Worst case scenario, which seemed much more likely at this point, could be... I couldn't even begin to fathom the possibilities. Broken maybe, torn ligaments. I could even need surgery if it was bad enough. I moaned again. Thoughts of my life ending was all I could think of. After all, without basketball, that's essentially what would be happening. I didn't have anything else to live for.
For as long as I could remember, I had played basketball. It was in my blood. My dad played college ball, and my mom played in high school. My older brother of four years, Aaron, helped me become the best I could possibly be. He played on the high school team too, and would've played in college, but he had other plans. I could remember when I turned four and he even got me my own basketball with his own money. He was my main driving force for sticking with the game, even when I thought it wasn’t worth it anymore.
When I was young, I played with Aaron almost every day. We grew up as best friends, and he was always looking out for me. But he was also always trying to help me to become better at everything, especially basketball.
We played together almost every day, and he was always willing. He loved the game just about as much as I do, and did even when I was four years old. The year before I went into kindergarten was my first year playing on a real team for our city league. I loved every second of it. But that was the case with all sports. I did everything back then; soccer, baseball, volleyball, swim team. I even fenced for a couple of summers. But no matter what, every basketball season, I would get sucked in and then I never wanted it to end. That's when I knew what I needed to focus on.
Basketball was my sport, and I was going to go all the way.
Whenever Aaron would have his friends come over and they would start playing, he’d run into the house to find me and invite me out to play with them. I joined them every time. Although I was half their size, it helped train me. I became quick and agile. I learned to arch my shot perfectly, even over those taller than me. Dribbling low became my best friend and learning tricks was always fun for me. By the time I was 14, I was holding my own against those 17 and 18 year olds. Those boys are how I became what I am today. Was, I thought bitterly. I guess I’m not much of a hot shot right now.
But when freshman year came, all of that changed.
I was starting as point guard for varsity team for my high school. Aaron was supposed to play ball for Duke. He was going to be a starting guard, coming in as a freshman—that’s how good he was. But then he did a 180 and decided to join the army instead.
“I want to follow in the same footsteps as Grandpa James,” he told me when I asked why he was giving up his dreams. “I’m not giving up on my dreams. I’ve always wanted to defend this country. It’s not my dream to become big, Mac. That’s yours. And you’re well on your way to getting there.” I didn’t think I was that great, but I was pleased that he thought so. I was just so afraid I was going to lose him, lose my best friend.
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” he had said. “I’ll be fine. I just hope I get to see your first high school game, and then I’ll be happy.”
He got his wish. My first game was scheduled for two weeks later. I was so nervous at the time, but when I saw the look on Aaron’s face, pure excitement and happiness, I was instantly calm. With him cheering me on from the sidelines, I played the best game I ever had before. The excitement of having him with me though was short lived.
He went into basic training the next month. And as soon as that training was over, he began training in the Special Forces. Soon after that, he went wherever he went to do whatever it was that he couldn’t talk about. It was a classified mission.
Shortly thereafter, the knock on our door came.
Aaron died in combat.
I didn’t leave my room for days after that. My best friend, my brother…gone. I was never going to see him again. I was never going to play basketball with him, or joke with him. No more pulling pranks or hiking the mountains by our house. No more midnight nights under the sky, talking about life. It was all gone, ripped out from under me. Just like that.
After a few days of crying, remorse and reflecting though, I remembered what he had said to me that night that seemed a lifetime ago. “It’s not my dream to become big, Mac. That’s yours. And you’re well on your way to getting there.” He believed in me, and I knew he would be disappointed in me if I didn’t live up to those dreams. That’s when I decided I was going to play, do my best and live it up—for him.
I brought my mind back to the present as I tried to focus on each mail box as it zoomed by. I needed to keep my mind occupied, away from things that just pained me not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. But every time I thought about the promise I made to myself, I thought of Aaron. Every time I thought of what I was losing just then, I wanted to just break down and cry. And every time we hit a pot hole, my foot was jerked and another wave of pain shot up not only my foot, but my whole leg. We hit another one just then and I groaned deeply.
"Ow..." I whimpered, trying not to make too much noise, but failing miserably. I had already had my fair share of screaming in pain for the day, but I couldn't help it.
"Mac, we'll be there soon, honey." My mom turned to look at me from the front. She had a sad look on her face, like she knew how much pain this was going to cause me in the long run. My dad took a quick glance back as well with the same expression on his face. Great. Let the pity fest begin, I thought gloomily.
I looked past them, not wanting to see their faces. Pity was not what I wanted. I wanted it to all just go away and me be healed.
My dad looked back to the road and stopped at the stop sign. My mom was still staring at me with that look. I made a point of looking anywhere but at her face. But as my dad pulled forward, my mom touched his leg and he took another glance back in my direction. The touch of concern and worry. I looked away quickly, not only because I didn't want to see that, but something caught my eye from my peripheral. As my head turned, I saw a huge truck speeding our way, flashing lights behind them. I felt my chest constrict, my breath catch. The truck wasn't slowing down. It was just going to bulldoze its way through the intersection. I let out a scream. I knew what was about to happen.
"Dad!" I screamed in horror hoping to warn him in time. But he saw it too late.
I felt the impact on the front of the car on my side. I heard as my mom make a blood curdling sound, and saw as my dad reached across to her in an attempt to protect her. The glass at my window shattered, and my arm flung in a direction I wasn't aware it was going to. A huge gash on my arm began to bleed profusely and my head was spinning. I closed my eyes. The car was still going in circles and if I didn't feel so much pain, I would almost think it were like an amusement park ride. But just then, mid spin, another impact came. I wasn't expecting this one and my head jerked to the side and hit the car. I tried to keep my eyes open. I had to make sure my parents were okay. But my head was spinning wildly and my eyes were drooping closed. My head was bobbing now, but I tried to stay alert. It was futile though. They fluttered closed against my will as I drifted off into an unconscious oblivion.

The End

So, basically this is an extremely rough draft. And it's late. And I've been rushed. Anyway, this is the story I really do plan on finishing in a couple months (hopefully). And this is rough, very, very rough. And far too short. But I needed something to post for today.

I haven't had too many perfect days in my life. But for how this day was unfolding thus far, this could easily be one of them.
I had the ball in my palm, bouncing it back and forth. This game had been one of the most intense ones I’d ever played in, and I’d been playing for 12 years.
At the start, it began just like any other game; both teams hyped up and ready to give it their all. But as half time drew near, neither team was letting up. Normally, the Vikings outran and outlasted any other team we played. But this time was different. This time, the Black Hawks wanted it just as bad as we did, almost.
They made too many mistakes though. Foul after foul, we kept racking them up until it was one and one. And since then, none of us Vikings had missed a free throw shot. Fouling aside though, there were a ridiculous amount of turnovers. I don’t think I had ever seen a team get traveling called on them so many times in my entire life, my 6 year olds that I coached included. However, we had more cheap calls than I’d ever heard of too. Hand check was the ref’s favorite call, and they called it on me and my team frequently. Perhaps I was being biased though. I must be, since somehow both teams were still so close, at least according to the scoreboard.
Taking my time, I made my way down the court at a steady pace. The crowd was going insane and I could hear my team on the bench cheering us all on. I tried to soak everything in, this feeling of pure adrenaline that I was getting for being at the State Championships. Half of this crowd was here to see my team win, and I wasn’t going to let them down.
I took a quick glance at the scoreboard. The score was 43 to 42 and we were down with less than a minute to go in the game. As I continued to lolly-gag, I could feel the tension build in the arena. This was it.
I looked around the court, searching for an opening. Holding up my left hand with only my pinky and pointer finger up, I yelled out, “Longhorn!” Our best play was now underway.
Before I knew it, that opening I was searching for came. It parted like the Red Sea for Moses before me and I took my chance to take the winning shot for the title.
Dribbling with my right hand, I came in closer to the girl guarding me. She was about my same size, but I knew I was faster. As she took a fake step toward me, I spun around to my left, switching hands the ball was in and then I took off running. Just as I got my eyes on the hoop though, the girl was on me again. For some reason, I couldn't seem to shake her. I tried to find anyone to pass to, but they were all being more heavily guarded than I was. Taking a quick look at the clock, there was now less than 30 seconds left. I had to take my chance one more time as the play continued to roll.
With the ball in my left hand now, I bounced it between my legs catching it with my right, and then sent it behind my back with my right hand. Dribbling the ball left handed again, I took my stride at a diagonal toward the hoop. I prepped myself for the layup at hand.
In front of me, a double screen was taking place and I tried to steer clear of it. As I thought I missed it entirely, I placed the ball in my left hand. I took one, two, three steps with a jump and pushed off. Coming from underneath, I began a finger roll. With a flick of my wrist, I let the ball go. I kept my eye on the prize and I saw as the ball hit the backboard squarely before sinking in. I heard the buzzer go off and this feeling I’d never before experienced overwhelmed me. The adrenaline rush was immediate and my excitement couldn’t be contained for much longer.
But my elation only lasted a moment.
I was wrong. I hadn't missed all the effects of the screen, not in the least. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I received a hard shove from my right. With a crack in my ankle, I fell to the floor, screaming in pain. It was dead silent, or so it seemed to me, for all I could hear were my agonizing cries.
The next thing I knew, my coach, along with parents and the school nurse were by my side. I glanced at my ankle then, but turned away quickly as my eyes practically bulged out of my head. It was already the size of a baseball.
I could no longer hear anything around me. My head was pounding, the blood pumping rapidly. I tried to breathe calmly, but the shots of pain were overwhelming. I was going into shock and I knew it.
"Mac, can you stand up?" I heard a voice ask from somewhere. I nodded, hoping that I would be able to go to the hospital now. I needed some pain meds. And some ice.
"Alright, let's get her on her feet. We'll take her to the hospital to get some x-rays done." I recognized that voice. My dad. I turned toward where the sound of his voice came from, and when I found his face I locked my eyes with his, forcing myself to focus on something besides the consistent shots of pain.
"Here we go, Macayle. Nice and easy. Put your arms around us and we'll get going." I forced myself to breathe easier and slowly got myself up. With the help of my parents and teammates, I made it out to my car with all my gear. The door was opened for me and I slumped in, shutting the door after me. I heard a knock on the window and I manually rolled it down to let my best friend Danae hand me a bag of ice. With a pained face, I smiled at her and she just stared at me with her sad eyes. Only a fellow teammate could understand just what kind of suffering this injury was going to cause, not just physically but emotionally as well.
Once everyone backed away from the car and my parents got by their doors, I placed my head in my hands. How could this happen to me? And then the tears came.

Time

I stared at the clock on my desk. It was midnight now, but I sat down anyway. I had a pen in my hand, paper laying flat. I knew I needed to write down my feelings. I knew that somehow, I needed to express myself instead of bottling it up inside. I had to let myself go, let the hurt and sorrow that was building up go. But I didn't know where to start. Where do you start when your best friend does a 180? How do you go on when the love of your life is gone for 2 years? I asked myself. I didn't know the answer. So I just started with the first thing that came to mind, the first thing I thought of that I truly hated. And I started writing.

Time.

The ever consistent inconsistency.

Time alters everything. It changes everyone. Things you wish never had to change. It ruins moments at their greatest point; it can make the worst time into the best of situations, depending on your point of view. Is my glass half empty, or half full? Am I looking in the long run, or the short distance? Even with this outlook though, it’s sad when the people you know become the people you knew, and you have to walk by them and ignore the times when you were inseparable. When nothing else mattered. When it was just you and them and being friends. It changes just a single element or aspect of your life, but it’s as if it’s the most important aspect at the time. The most comfortable one. And yet, what are we to do? Time doesn’t slow for the lowliest of beings. It’s not just everything around us that changes, but we are altered too. We’re not the same people who we used to be. The seasons have changed, and gone on with the time. For good or for ill, we can’t tell yet. But before the end, we will see.

Sometimes, time ruins everything. Its ever-changing constancy is changing things too fast. So return to me, unaltered moments. And come back to the way things used to be. Or move on faster, and bring me what I need. Fast-forward, and make things right again. Turn the table of time and make things whole. Make things how they need to be.
 
 
I put my pen down on the paper. Time was my problem. This thing that doesn't even exist except in the human mind. But that was all. If it would go back, my best friend would still be just that. I would have my love here with me. Or if it fast forwarded, I could help change him. I could still save my best friend. And I would still have the love of my existence with me once more. Having no one wasn't working for me. Having no one was causing me to go downhill. So I picked up my pen again and started to write. I didn't stop until dawn.

Peace, Be Still

I wake up in the morning with a smile upon my face.
The sun is shining brightly sending down some of God’s grace.

I take a walk down to the sea to start my adventure there;
The smell of salt, the spray of the sea, the wind blowing through my hair.

Stepping onto the boat, it takes off on a calm and peaceful day,
But little did I know of what was bound to come my way.

At first, the breeze was light and calm, just keeping me afloat.
But soon the waves began to come and started to rock the boat.

I grasped on tightly to the wood as the waves came crashing down
My knees buckled below me and I fell down to the ground

The storm kept getting stronger and as I started to lose hope
I said a silent prayer to God that I’d be able to cope.

But water found its way into my little rocking ship,
And things just kept on hitting me; I began to lose my grip.

Water came up around me and I started to lose my will,
But as I thought the end was near I heard a voice say, “Peace, be still.”

I sensed my little vessel begin to slow its course
And felt a man reach down to me and lift with little force.

And as I looked up at his face, I beheld a wonderful thing;
The most beautiful face and loving eyes the world had ever seen.

I knew at once just who it was that saved me from this storm--
My elder brother, Jesus Christ, who came here to inform,

To let us know when we’re in need that He is always there.
That we can call on Him in every way, even in silent prayer.

For He is always listening and watching over us,
Just waiting for our plea to Him, so it’s we that He may bless.

Because even in our hardest times, He still knows what it’s like—
To lose a best friend, or to be tempted, or get into a fight.

So turn to Him in all you do, for it is only through Him
That we may get through everything and live with Him again.

Crazy Old Dwarf

"Where is Takar? He was supposed to be here an hour ago," the old dwarf grumbled.
"Oh, come on now, Darnec. You worry too much about the boy," Bromwyn chuckled, her lovely sound radiating throughout the room.
"I do not!" he exclaimed. Bromwyn's pointy ears twitched as her laughing continued. Darnec's face reddened at his outburtst. "Alright, alright. Fine, maybe a little bit," he said, subdued.
That only made her laugh harder. Rolling her eyes, she stood up from the chair and walked toward the entryway of the old dwarf's home.
"I'll be back shortly. We'll need some ale for the celebration. Takar is finally coming home!" And with that, she was gone and out of sight.
Darnec sat in silence, waiting impatiently. The boy knows not to do this to me. How many years have I let him live with me? I beat the thought senseless, ingrained it into his head so I wouldn't have to worry so much.
Humph.
"And after all these years, he still can't be bothered to arrive at a decent hour."
The dwarf folded his arms and flopped his head on the table. How much longer was he supposed to just sit here and wait?
"I give him twenty minutes, and then Bromwyn and I will drink the ale and eat the cheese ourselves," he huffed again.
A muffled noise that sounded oddly like "I'll help too!" came from somewhere. Darnec lifted his head and searched his home with his eyes. There was no one near, and yet he was sure he heard someone.
"Bah. There's no one here. I'm just getting old," he concluded, placing his head on his arms again.
"You're not that old," the small voice said again. Darnec ignored the "comment" that didn't exist. It's all in my head, he thought. But then he felt something on his hand, crawling across and ending on the table.
Lifting his head, Darnec saw the culprit with the quiet, muffled voice.
A small grey mouse sat perched on his table now, staring at him with beady eyes.
Well, isn't he cute? he thought. Then his eyes widened, his heart sped up and a scream ripped from his throat.
"Ahhh!"
Jumping up out of his chair, Darnec flew across the kitchen to the other side. Staring at the small rodent, he stumbled upon his words.
"How are you-You can't-That doens't make-Bah!"
"Are you done yet?" the little mouse questioned.
"No, no. You're just my imagination. You can't talk. In fact, I'm sure you're not even here. Be gone with you!" Darnec waved his hand in dismissal.
The mouse's eyes narrowed. "You must be crazy," it stated, matter-of-factly.
"Oh well," it continued. "Better talking to you than no one. You're Darnec, right? My name's Milo. I live up the path outside your doors a little ways. Except in the winters. Then I live inside your house in that corner over there. It really is quite warm in here during the cold months, did you know that? It's lovely and I enjoy myself. I just wish I was able to take care of myself sometimes. It can get to be quite a bother always having to depend on other people. Hopefully one day I'll be able to-"
"Shut up!" Darnec exlaimed. His eyes were bugging out of his head, his insides twisting into knots.
"You live in my house?! How long have you been here? How can you talk? What kind of name is Milo? How have I never noticed you before? If you've lived here so long, why have I never seen you?" The questions fell from his tongue like one trying to hold water in their hands.
"Questions, questions. I thought you told me to shut up?" Milo asked innocently.
"Answer them. Now." Darnec was angry.
"Well, I've been here a few years now. All animals can talk, silly. Milo was given to me by my mother, thank you very much, so pipe it. I don't generally make appearances with large crowds around. Ok, fine, really it's more I don't make appearances ever, but it was just you, and I thought you were funny and kinda bored. And frustrated. Boy were you frustrated! I haven't seen you like that in a really long time. Not since Takar lived here which has been at least a year now right?"
Darnec stood, flabbergasted. This was not happening.
"I know, you're probably thinking, 'This is so not happening." But it is. Perhaps you should come sit down again. You look like you're about to pass out. Your face is all white and pasty."
Darnec touched his face with his fingertips, which were clammy. Slowly, he walked toward his table while keeping eye contact with the intruder.
"So, how about that ale you have stored in the wall over there for safe keeping? Do you suppose we could pull out some of that?"
"What? You think you deserve a drink, eh? Intruding upon my house and then expecting rewards?"
"Well, no, not exactly. I just figured, it's probably going to be a while until anyone actually gets here, so we may as well celebrate our meeting in the meantime!" Milo said brightly. "Alright, fine," he said, noticing Darnec wasn't going to move, "I'll just go get it myself."
Hopping down off the table, he ran toward the wall on the far side of the house.
"Oh, no you don't!" Darnec exlaimed, knocking over his chair as he jumped up. "I'll be getting that, thank you very much. Besides," he added as an afterthought, "you'd probaby crush yourself anyway."
Pulling out the hidden ale, Darnec then went to the table. Milo came a few moments later, scampering up the table leg with a cup size all his own.
Darnec poured some ale into his mug, then let little Milo scoop some into his own.
"Ah," Milo sighed in contentment, lifting his mug in the air. "To newfound friends!" he toasted. Darnec slowly raised his own mug and they smashed together, the froth dripping on the sides. Milo chugged his first mug in seconds, pleading for more with his hope filled eyes. Darnec rolled his own and gestured with his hand for Milo to take more.
"Aw, thanks pal! You're the best."
Darnec grumbled something inaudible.
"What was that?"
Again, some sound came out, but nothing comprehensible.
"I still can't hear you, you know."
"I said, 'You're welcome!'" a frustrated dwarf yelled.
"Hey now," Milo soothed, "don't get all worked up in a tussle. Have some more ale. Relax a bit."
The dwarf didn't need to be told twice. Within minutes, six mugs of ale had been downed, with a seventh on the way. Darnec was wasted.
"Novothy knoves va twouvle A've seen. Novothy knoves ma sawow..." he drunkenly sang. A noise came from the front door and Darnec flopped his eyes in that direction.
"That's beautiful, Darnec," Bromwyn chuckled as she walked into the home. Takar followed behind her.
"Definitely a one of a kind singing voice!" Takar chided. "Couldn't wait to celebrate until I got home, eh?"
"Iz not ma faulz. Milooo mathe ma thew iz."
The elf and boy stared at their friend. He was so drunk.
"Who is Milo?" Takar asked, looking around for someone else in the house, seeing no one.
"Ze mouze!" he exclaimed, pointing to the table where Milo was. But as Bromwyn and Takar contiued to stare, he followed his own finger to see there was nothing there. No sign of Milo anywhere.
"The...mouse, Darnec? Are you sure you didn't just make him up?"
"He vaz zere! A zveaw he vaz zere!"
"Oh, Darnec. Of course he was. Milo the mouse will return soon, I'm sure. How I've missed you, you crazy old dwarf," Takar came over and patted him on the back. "The antics and imaginings of you will never tire me," he said with a chukle.
Darnec continued to search frantically for his newfound friend. How could Milo do this to him? Make him look like a fool. He could have at least had the decency to show himself!
And then he looked on the chair, in the far corner by where Milo said he lived during the winter months. With a grin on his face, a twinkle in his eye, Milo winked, waved his paw in the air and scampered off.

Rain

I sit on the couch, curled up against his warm chest. I can feel his breathing, hear his heart beating. The sound of his heart is all I hear, his heart and silence.
But then.
Drip. Drop.
Drip. Drop.
The soft pitter patter begins.
I run to the window and looking out, I see the most glorious thing. Water splashing against the window pane, droplets cascading from the twilight sky crashing to the ground.
In my awe I fail to hear the rustling from behind me. Familiar arms wrap around my waist and I feel a slight tickle as my hair moves.  I hear a soft breath and a sigh next to my ear. I turn my face with love in my eyes.
A small smile plays about his lips, a twinkle in his eye. I can't help but let my lips turn upwards too, wondering what he's up to. Before I know it, he spins me round and grabs my hand, tugging me in the direction of the door. Keeping hold of my hand and with a grin on his face, he pulls me out into the open, out into the rain.
I start to giggle; I just can't keep it in. I see his grin widen as the noise hits his ears. The rain begins to fall harder, soaking us completely. Pulling me in close, he wraps one arm around my waist and takes hold of my hand. I look at him, cock my head to the side, asking him without words. He merely smiles.
And then, we dance.
Slowly swaying in out in the street, he keeps me close to him. All of the sudden, he spins me out, gripping my hand tightly. As he spins me back in he puts our hands above us and I fly into his arms, giggling. Chuckling himself with a smile of his own, he uses the momentum of the turn, put an arm around my waist, and dipped me back. I couldn't help but grin as he kept his leg under my back and caught me up in his stare. Keeping my eyes connected with him, slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans down. His lips brush mine softly and I can feel his breath against my skin.
Pulling me up in a standing position, he pulls back slightly to stare into my eyes and I see them twinkle as he grins. The next thing I know, he's crushing me to him, picking me up and spinning me around as the rain drenches us.
The rain keeps pouring harder, the thunder pounding around us, lightning flashing through our closed eyes. Gently, he places my feet back on the ground. His lips brush mine softly again and I slowly open my eyes. I can see the love radiating from his own, shining brightly before me. Small smiles rest upon both our faces.
"Mmm, I love the rain," I say softly, brushing some of the droplets from running down his face.
Running his nose across my face, I hear him sigh softly in contentment. Looking back to my eyes, I feel a spark flash between us and I wonder for a moment if it's the lightning. Then he speaks the words I always long to hear, no matter how many times he says them to me.
"I love you."

I Love You So

Confused is what I feel inside
I don't know what to feel.
I know that somewhere you exist
But how can you be real?

I have memories all stored away
In places only I can reach
To call to mind when I get down
While you're abroad to preach

But it just keeps getting harder
And my memories are fading.
How long will I remember you?
My strength has started waning.

I no longer know your voice at all
And I can't recall your smile.
I don't remember your giggle or smell
Or anything else worthwhile.

I can't recall the feel of your hair
Or the softness of your lips.
Not the way you walk or tickle my sides
Nor the touch of our final kiss.

The memories are fading beyond my grasp;
They just keep slipping away.
I'm afraid if I don't see you soon
I'll completely forget you one day.

But it's only been a few months
And there's many more to go.
But I'll stay strong and remember you
Because, Doug, I love you so.