Lighter

“Give me back my lighter,” I demanded in a mock angry tone.

“Or you’ll what, Jason? Tackle me again? I’m already down,” she laughed.

I laughed for a moment before my eyes got caught in hers. With a small smile on my face, I simply said, “No, but maybe I’ll…” kiss you.  I blinked quickly, trying to recover and get my mind as far away as possible from that train of thought.

“You’ll what, Jason?” she asked softly, keeping her eyes on me.

I began to smirk at her, prepping my hands by her waist. “Tickle you,” was all I said before my hands dove at her sides.

Her body began to twitch and convulse as I tickled her sides. Her laughing filled the air and her eyes began to twinkle.

“Jason! Jason, stop! That tickles!” she cried, laughing.

“Ha ha that’s the point, Kristen.” My snickering continued. “Are you gonna give me that lighter yet?”

“Yes, yes!” she said between gasps.

After a couple more seconds, I released her from my hold and just continued to laugh as she tried to catch her breath. She weakly held up her hand to me so I could take the lighter.

“Thank you.” I grinned at her and she tried to glare at me.

I jumped up and walked over to the small pile of wood we had plopped together and tossed some lighter fluid on it. Flicking the lighter with my thumb, I led the small flame to the kindling and lit it up. Immediately the flames caught and the warmth began to spread around and I started to warm.

There Are Two Types of Girls...

I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with her. Why couldn't she leave well alone?
"Jason, you can't twist the age old saying. Besides, that's straight up rude."
"Why not?" I questioned. "There is nothing wrong with what I'm saying. In fact, it's pretty much true."
I knew that was a low blow, especially considering she was a brunette, but I couldn't talk to her right now. I couldn't deal with all of this. She brought this one upon herself. I had finally started talking with her again and then she went and ruined it all. And now I was forced to ask another girl to this dance. Even though I wanted to take Kristen. The only way I could finally hopefully escape everything was if I hurt her enough to make her want to stay far, far away from me.
"'Pretty much true?' And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, hurt. I thought I saw tears begin to fill her eyes, but she quickly recovered before I could get much of a look at her pain.
"Exactly what it sounds like, Kristen. Did I stutter? There are two types of girls in this world; blond and fat. I was sure I said it perfectly clear," I stated flatly.
Pain flashed across her face and a single tear trickled down her cheek.
Why am I so pathetic?

Canyon at Night

I was sure everything would go fine. I mean how often were creeps actually out and about in a canyon at night?
I pulled up to the park and found an open spot. Turning off my car, I peered out the window, checking for obscure dark patches in the night. After a few moments, I felt as though t were all right to venture out into the night, alone.
I slammed my door shut and hopped onto the hood of my crown Victoria. It was the perfect place to look at the stats from.
I had only been there a few short moments when I heard a noise.
"Hello?" I called out softly. "Is someone there?"
I felt a pinch in my arm. When I grabbed re area with my opposite hand, I felt a sharp, pointy object embedded in my skin. A soft cackle came from behind me as my conciousness began to fade.
And then I was gone.

If You're Going to Fail...

This entire semester I have done next to no work. I have been under the impression that I have some of the easiest professors on campus. Psychology with Larson only has one report for the entire semester, and the only project in Psychology History is a group presentation on a historical figure. 3 question quizzes in my Astronomy class every class day happened without fail with Professor Moody, but no homework other than reading which has been really nice the first month of the semester.
Or so I thought.
"On Wednesday you're Astronomy Observations are due, along with your worksheet. Tomorrow is the last day to take the test, unless you want to pay the $5 late charge to take it Wednesday." I about fell out of my seat in the planetarium. Astronomy Observation? Worksheet? What is Mad-Eye Moody talking about?
As quickly as I could log onto my Astronomy class site after my classes were over, I looked under course documents. Sure enough, a worksheet was listed. When I saw the number of pages it was, my eyes bugged out of my head.
22 pages? 4 of which are definitions?! I'm going to fail this test...
 "Well. If I'm going to fail, I better fail epically or there's no point to it."
And with that, I shut down my laptop and went to Carson's house, forgetting the homework and studying for the test entirely.

Elephant

"Well, how has your practicing gone this summer? Who have you been playing with lately? Anyone worthwhile?" I couldn't handle the awkward silence that was going on. I may have been all right with this over-sized elephant at the start of this adventure, but it had now gained a ton or two and it has now long outstayed its welcome. I was going to shove it out of this room, or it was going to squash and kill me. I couldn’t decide which would be worse.

“Oh. It’s been all right. I get kind of bored playing with the girls I do, but I don’t have any other options really. My best friend and his buddies kind of deserted me a few months back, for some unknown reason to me” I couldn’t help but cringe at that. “I actually think my game has digressed because of it. These girls are no challenge at all, even if they are on my team. It’s pretty much worse than useless.”

Before I truly processed what she had said, what I was thinking, and what words were forming in my head, I spoke. “You should come play with us tomorrow night. We’re short a few guys and you’re better than most of them on the team anyway.”

The look of shock seemed to be permanently stuck on her face. I’m sure my face was pretty priceless too though. We stared at each other for a couple minutes before I finally looked away, coughing awkwardly.

“Uh, well, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Jason…” she tentatively said. My face flamed red.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Totally okay. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I muttered lamely.

“Well, I mean I’ll probably not be able to keep up with you guys anymore, you know. “ That threw me for a loop. I thought it was because of me… I had to think of something new to say.

“Oh, come on. You’d be great I’m sure.” I couldn’t let her think I thought she couldn’t play well anymore. I knew she could. Just because we didn’t talk much anymore didn’t mean I never watched her play from time to time, wishing from afar that I could be out there with her. I missed the days where we played for hours, and I’d give just about anything to get that back.

“Really? I don’t know. Do you really think so?” she asked, eyes filled with hope. And here we go again… How do I answer that without crushing her? Again.

“Yeah. You really are Kristen. Honestly.” I reached out and touched her shoulder and she smiled at me. And it was genuine, which was something that I hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Wow, you’re really warm,” she told me.

“Are you cold? Oh, man I’m sorry Kristen. Here, come over here.” I lifted my arm up and waved my hand at her. “We’ll scoot in closer to the fire too.”

Scooting ourselves over to the fire, we huddled close together. She rested her head on my shoulder and I could’ve sworn I heard her sigh softly, content.

And just like that, whatever elephant had been in place for these months had finally been pushed aside. The stone cut walls were broken down and once again, we were best friends for the moment.

Irony

How I truly hate irony. Not the fun irony, the kind that honestly make you laugh. Like beating up this guy at a club just to find out a month later that he's your new boss. Irony like that is just hilarious and everyone is able to laugh at it. Even the people who it happens to. But that's not the irony I'm referring to.
The kind of irony that runs my life is far from funny. Like my mother telling me to save my money for a "new" car in case mine breaks down instead of buying a new iTouch. Of course, I don't listen to such rubbish and what happens the next day? My car breaks down. Not only that, it breaks down 20 minutes before I'm supposed to meet one of the greatest authors ever. My favorite author of all time, the one who got me into reading. I had the perfect chance to meet him and it's been blown. Entirely. I've only been looking forward to this moment for like 5 years. But it's ok. Who really wants to meet their writing inspiration? That's just crazy.

You Never Existed

"You know, I have nothing to say to you. Really. After all is said and done, you are nothing to me. In fact, it's going to be as if you never existed. And to be perfectly honest, I'm totally all right with that. From here on out, you are dead to me."
I kept saying this to myself over and over again making it my mantra. I had to practice it if I was ever going to say it to her for real. And I had to, if I wanted to say sane.

Vulnerable

I looked down at her and saw that look in her eye, the one that spoke a thousand words. The one that was allowing me to see how vulnerable she was with tears in her eyes. The one that let me read her thoughts without touching her lips. But I knew that’s exactly what she wanted just then.

I saw her eyes drift down my face, then dart to my eyes again, embarrassed. She was only inches from me, with my am wrapped around her like it was. I should’ve known better than to let myself get this comfortable with her again. But I couldn't help it. This is how we'd always been.

Her mouth parted slightly and she her eyes slipped closed. I knew what she expected and I wanted nothing more than to take her up on this offer. But if I did, if I kissed her, I would confirm all the stories in my head and I couldn’t deal with that. Instead of letting my instincts take over, I did the one thing I least wanted to ever do; I turned away and hurt her in one of the most vulnerable moments I’d ever seen her in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the look of dejection on her face. I cringed inside. Her face fell to my shoulder and I felt the first tremor from her.

And then the tears began to fall.

Do You Think You're Funny?

It's like that time he said, "That's what she said," in the middle of a church lecture, and the entire congregation heard it. It wasn't even a good one. No one laughed and everyone stared. I think the girl up there speaking felt pretty lame too.
For some reason, he likes just hurting people for the sake of hurting people, then turning everyone against them. Or just constantly making fun of them because they lack any form of self esteem.
"Well, out of the hole and into the cavern you go I see! Shocker, computer again? Do you have a life or are you just a blob?" He began to chortle to himself, thinking his words something actually worthy of laughter. Does he really think he's that funny?
I turn to face him. Honestly, what is his problem? I know brothers are meant to be total jerks, but really? That wasn't even being a jerk, just plain stupid.
"I'm doing work, if that's ok with you. You know, something productive that gets you money." And honestly, I was. I had just done a photoshoot for a family and had to get those edited for them so they could order prints. In fact, between that and writing, that was usually why I was even on the computer.
"Oh, yeah. Sure you are." That was his response before he walked out the door.
I honestly hope he doesn't actually think he's funny.

Binary Number Distraction

I don't know how to turn off her thoughts. I count binary in hopes of keeping myself distracted; one zero one one zero one zero zero one. It doesn't work. The moment my lips touch hers, I'm a goner.
One zero one one zero zero zero one.
No distraction is enough for me to tune out of her head. Those thoughts just flow freely and openly, taking over my own to the point where I almost can't distinguish the difference.
Doesn't he know how much better it feels when his hands are on my face and neck? Immediately without thinking, my left hand shot up to her neck and locked her to me while my right pressed tightly against the small of her back.
Oh... I heard a sigh in my head.
"Oh," she pulled back and stared, bug eyed. She was panting, her face was drawn with confusion. Recognition ran across my mind. I'd forgotten.
Zero one zero one one zero.
I hadn't meant to do just as she had wished the moment I heard it. It just came up, and I was so into it that it just... happened. How was I supposed to explain that one?
"How did you know?" she questioned.
I feigned stupidity. "How did I know what Kristen?" My hand brushed across her cheek.
"That," she reached up and intertwined her fingers with mine. "How did you know I wanted you to do that?"
Cocking an eyebrow at her, I smirked. "You mean this?" I leaned in again, caressing her face, and kissed her softly for a moment before pulling away. Her eyes lingered closed and a small smile came to her face.
"Yes, that."
"Well, I figured that I love it when you have your hands caught up in my hair-"
"Like this?" She began to twirl my hair between her fingers.
"Mm, yes, like that. And in figuring that, I thought it was safe to assume you would enjoy something similar. Obviously I was right?"
Her cheeks turned a slight pink, her eyes looking down. I tilted her chin up to look at me and she smiled sweetly.
"Yeah," I barely heard.
"That's what I thought," I grinned at her. Pulling her to me, she rested her head on my shoulder, sighing softly.
That was way too close Jason, I berated myself. I have got to stay in check from here on out if I honestly think this is ever going to work. Back to my numbers...
One zero one one one zero zero.

Chess

Honestly, what kind of person talks trash during a chess game? It's almost as bad as cheering for it. As if there's anything on the line during a game like that. I mean, sure, you gain a certain amount of prestige in knowing you out smarted the other player if you win. But in the long run, what good does it serve? You just look like an idiot. In fact, you get made fun of. It's like that SNL episode with Will Ferrell. "Shut up! You two are are freaks! Do you know how far you have fallen when the chess team makes fun of you?"
That's how I'm feeling right about now. No, I'm not the freak. I'm the one that wants to tell them all to shut up. Don't they know there are rules about this kind of thing?

Peace

I love these moments. The ones where everything that has ever held you back is finally set free. When all the things you thought you never could be, are finally things that you can. Those times where nothing else matters except where you're going; and you're going far. You are going somewhere great and you will be amazing. It's the moments you are finally at peace with where you're at and who you are, in your own tranquil place. And that place is beautiful. Grass, spanning across as far as I can see in one direction; trees sporadically throughout with a river off to the side. The clear night sky letting all the stars shine tonight. The moon, full and radiant.
I'm finally here. And I never want to leave.

Surprise!

Birthdays. I hate birthdays. What is the point behind them, honestly? All it is is a reminder that you're old, and who wants that? It just implies that it's now time to grow up and that's no fun. I'm going to stay young forever and always be ten.
I began fiddling with my keys, attempting to unlock my apartment door. Gratefully, I knew I would be able to go to sleep soundly and not deal with anymore birthday festivities since there was only one person who had a key to this apartment. However, she was out of town on business. Not that I would have minded any birthday surprises from her, but I could wait for my wife.
I was finally able to yank the door open and I flipped on the lights on. My eyes widened in shock.
"Surprise!" Peyton cried as the I stared at her. She wasn't supposed to be home. How was she home?
"Nathaniel..." she whispered my name. "You don't look very happy to see me," she said with a pout. I was sure she was joking. Did she realize how she was dressed? Would it even be possible for me to not be happy to see her when she looked like that? My cheeks burned slightly at my thoughts and she giggled.
"Actually, I suppose you are happy," she said walking over to me, reaching up with her tiptoes to kiss me.
"Happy Birthday, Nathaniel," she muttered against my lips. I couldn't help but smile.
My arms tangled up around her when my lips touched hers again, caressing her face. My foot kicked the door closed behind us with a thud.
Maybe I didn't want to stay ten years old forever.

Hug Hungry

I don't even know who half these people are, but I come up to them and do it anyway. They all look at me funny too. Have odd stares on their faces as I walk away. But I can't help it. I just do it. I'm desperate.
Sure, it's probably breaking a lot of people's personal bubbles. But what choice do I have? He's gone. And it's a small thing really. Just a simple connection to someone, like the ones I used to get so many times a day. Those simple things I would kill for now. I'm hungry for them, always wanting another.
Scratch that. I'm not hug hungry; I'm starving.

They Always Say...

I remember the last few days before my brother left on his mission to England for two years. I remember how shattered I felt, how alone and hurt I was. It seemed like I was losing everything then, and this was just the tip of the iceberg. I was losing my closest sibling and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing but sit back and cry. Cry and wish and pray and hope that things would be the same when he came back.They weren't.
They always say that when missionaries return, they are better than before. That they are kinder, more fond of their families, fun loving, outgoing and just all around better. I'd been told that for so long that I had believed it and come to expect it out of mine. But when Jack came home, that's not what I got.
Instead of the best friend brother I had when he left and the entire time he was gone, I got a surly, sour, rude man who had the room next to mine. Always biting everyone's head off, claiming he's better than everyone, always thinking we are such horrible people.
And I couldn't help but wonder. What happened to him? Why did he turn out this way? Where was that fun loving brother I knew before? And where was the man everyone told me was going to return? So I asked him about it.
Now that he's told me though, I wish I'd never found out.

Truth or Dare

I've been in love with her for years, but I've only kissed her once. After all, what group of early teenagers doesn't play Truth or Dare at least from time to time? Unfortunately for me though, I started out young when my friends and I began to do stupid things together. For instance, by the time we were 14, almost all of my friends had at least kissed each other, but somehow I was left out of it for even more years. While they were all getting together, I kept to myself. Not that I minded, and it wasn't like I didn't like girls. I did, I do. But I wasn't about to throw out my first kiss on a whim at 12 years old. I'm told frequently that I'm a pansy. But they don't understand. The way I see it, you can call me whatever you like, but I prefer to think of myself as a romantic. It's not about the quantity of girls, but the quality.
The problem with my lack of kissing though is that I always ended up doing more of the dangerous or plain out stupid things more often than not. I got shocked by the dog collar. It was me who had to skinny dip in the half frozen lake. Streaking down the street at dusk became a favorite for my friends to watch me do. I've become pretty accustomed to riding horses bareback at night, and I hate horses. I've drunk so many energy drinks I was practically wasted. In the end, I came out fine from all of these things, with very few and very rare side effects. But then during one of these nights when we were far too bored and playing Truth or Dare for way too long, my life was changed forever.
I don't remember much from that Friday night when I was 16; how much would you be able to remember after being dared to drink four huge energy drinks? But I've been told I did some pretty crazy stupid things that night, including mooning a police officer. I don't recall doing so, but I do remember paying for the consequences a few days later. To be perfectly honest, there's only one thing I do remember from that night.
Kissing Kristen.
I couldn't tell you how they convinced me to do it. I was so out of it by that time, I had no clue what was going on. I don't know how I went about it, or if I thought it was even any good. All I could remember were her distinct thoughts in my head. And me freaking out when I realized what was going on.
Later, everyone played it off as me being drunk and not knowing what was going on. But Kristen knew me better than that. We'd been best friends for so long, she knew something wasn't right.
But there was no way for me to tell her that. And there was no way I was going to let myself kiss her again, even if I was in love with her.

Relief

I aimed at my target, straight at his head. I didn't think twice before pulling the trigger.
The gunshot sounded. Blood spurted behind on the wall. A body fell to the floor in a slump. And all I did was smile.
I honestly thought that, at least to a point, I would feel guilty for having "innocent" blood on my hands. But I don't. I don't feel bad for ridding this world of the monstrosity he is. I have no concern at all about getting caught. I don't even feel a twinge of remorse thinking of the fact that he was my best friends brother.
No. No guilt, no remorse. All I feel is relief. Relief in knowing I can sleep well tonight.

Nightmare

"Katie."
Just five more minutes. I just fell asleep, I think, flipping my head over with a thud.
"Katie!" the voice says sternly.
My head jerks up and my breathing is shallow and fast. I look around with wide eyes. Blood rushes to my cheeks, turning them crimson. Twenty seven pairs of eyes are staring in my direction. The mouths coupled with at least half of those pairs of eyes are trying to hold in a chuckle, while the rest are sending out guffaws. I tip my fedora lower over my eyes, trying to hide, but I can't escape my teacher's, which are glaring at me. I give a pathetic side smile and an awkward chuckle.
"Sorry," I mumble. "Again. Heh... What'd you ask?"
Mrs. Carlson sighs loudly and shakes her head. "I asked you to read page 43 aloud, but obviously, you have more important things to do." By this time she was standing right by my desk, crouching down to my level, as the rest of the class continued to whisper and snicker.
Putting a hand on my desk in an attempt to reach out to me, she says, "This is the seventh time in two weeks that you've fallen asleep in my class alone, Katie. Not to mention all the times in the other classes some of the teachers have talked about. Are you doing all right?" She honestly looks concerned about me. That's more than I could say about some people.
I rub my eyes a little and nod, trying to play things off as me still being out of it from the sleep.
"Yeah, I'm great. Never better," I lie. But she believes me, and walks to the front of the room again, forgetting about me reading. The boy next to me, Kyle, gets called on to read instead of me and immediately I zone out again.
Am I doing all right? Her voice just keeps echoing in my mind. Hardly, I think bitterly.
I don't remember the last time my mom came home before 2 am, and it's been even longer than that since she wasn't drunk as she walked through the door. I'm only sixteen and I'm already making dinner for me and the rest of my three younger siblings every night, not to mention taking them to every place their hearts desire. I never have time for homework these days. I've got too many other things to worry about. If you asked, I couldn't tell you the last time I hung out with my friends. Who, by all accounts, aren't even my friends anymore for the way they've been acting recently. But none of those things even matter compared to my current sleeping habits.
I haven't slept all through the night in weeks now. I'm lucky to get a total of three hours these days, between all the nightmares and screaming. I probably wouldn't mind so much if I actually knew what was going on in them. But I had no clue, and no idea how to figure it out. It was always the same girl, beaten and bloody, screaming for my help while telling me to run. Always the same girl. I'd help her if I could, but I've never met her in my life. Whoever she is.

Again

I can't believe I did this.
Again.
I had promised her I never would again. I had assured her time and time again. And once again, I let her down. Just like every other promise I made to her that night. All thirteen of them that she never seems to forget about. All thirteen she makes sure I remember, that I let her down. And don't I ever deserve it.
I've hurt her so many times, and that's just counting the ones I know of and remember with my horrid memory. Not to even mention the numerous amount that I surely have no clue about. All the times she bottles it up and takes the pain instead of letting herself free from me. As if I'm actually worth anything. As if I'm something to hold on to. As if I'm someone without her.
I'm not.
She doesn't understand what she does to me, how she motivates me. I wouldn't be half the man I am if not for her. I wouldn't care, I wouldn't have my priorities straight, I wouldn't be trying to do and be better. I would be nothing without her.
So why do I hurt her? Why doesn't she trust me when I tell her I love her and need her in my life? Not only that I need her, but want her in my life.
Ha. The better question is why should she?
Pain, lies, guilt, doubt. Here it is again.
Again, again, again.
Maybe I'll get lucky just one more time and she'll forgive me.
Again.

I'd Rather We Didn't But...

I don't mind the kissing. To be honest, I really quite enjoy it. For the most part anyway. But there is one problem that cannot be corrected by any way I've tried thus far. It's not her fault though, it's totally mine. Because you see, when we kiss, I can hear her thoughts. So, I would rather we didn't. But how do you explain that to the one you love?
Right. You don't.

Defining Moments

How often do you get the chance to define who you really are? Not in just the little things that, if repeated, eventually turn you into something because it's a habit. But those single moments where you really get to choose who you are, what you are and what you will become. The kind that make a world of difference, are dramatic and life-changing. Those kinds of moments don't come around very often.
But right now, as I stand here gazing into her amber eyes, I realize; this is one of those defining moments and if I choose wrong, I'll lose her.
Forever.

Боулинг-Pin Бабушка (Bowling Pin Grandma)

I always thought that I had good balance. After all, I have played sports basically my entire life, ever since I was three years old and could actually throw a ball through a hoop. I ran state track, was on the varsity basketball team my freshman year in high school, played competitive soccer so well  that my team went to Hawaii for winning the championship at 13 years old, and we placed second in our state softball tourney. Sure, I fell a few times, got shoved over in basketball games, tackled in soccer, but it was all part of the game. My feet were always stable, unless they were swept out from beneath me. Then I went to Ukraine and everything changed.
Funny thing about Ukraine; it's a total ice block in the winter. Everywhere you look, there is at least 6 inches of ice coating the ground. But I figured that I, being the awesome athletically enabled person that I am, would be perfectly fine walking-no, running-on the ice. I had places to go after all, and I was running late thanks to this cursed trolley.
I took off sprinting the moment my feet touched the ground. It was a ten minute walk to my destination, but I was sure I could cut the time in half. But after running a measly minute, I saw a problem. An old grandma was walking on my path, and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to stop in time for her. She wasn't looking up, and I had no way to warn her I was coming. I tried to slow myself, keep from sliding all over the place a knocking over the poor old woman.
Five feet before I collided with the old lady, I managed to get to a walking pace and ever so slowly, I crept by her. And then it happened.
Just like the numerous times my feet had been ripped out from under me during my soccer games, once again my feet flew above my head and I fell flat on my back, but not without taking the old babushka with me, knocking her over like a bowling pin.
I felt my eyes bug out of my head as I scrambled to stand, shocked at what had just taken place.
"Izvinitye!" I cried, begging her forgiveness for my clumsiness. It was one of the only words in Russian I could recall offhand without taking a minute or two to conjugate a complete sentence.
The lady just nodded her head at me muttering, "Khorosho," over and over again. Good, good, it's ok. I dropped my hands down to help her up, and she reached at me gratefully. After giving me a small smile in forgiveness, she walked off in her own direction, leaving me to go on mine.
The palm of my hand flew to my forehead. I'm such an idiot. I thought, walking away.
So much for "athletically enabled..."

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry I'm not good enough,
That I'm just not what you want.
That no matter what I do for you
Your face is still pulled taut.

I'm sorry that I'm just no good
That I can't do anything right.
That no matter how much I try for you
It's not enough at the end of the night.

I'm sorry that I am not more
That I'm not worth the time of day.
But most of all I'm sorry
That somehow it's still this way.

Destiny

I don't much like the word. After all, who's to say that you already have what you're going to do, whether you want to do it or not? Where's the free agency and choice in all of this? I don't like thinking that, no matter what I choose to do, it's not really choosing. It's not my good nature that helped that boy at school pick up his books. I didn't compliment my little sister on how she looked because I was being nice and honest. It was just going to happen that way. What kind of life is that; to have every step I take, every breath that gets drawn into my lungs, every glance at a strange passerby, already planned out perfectly. And all I am is a pawn, a player's piece in a game and at the end of the day, useless.
Destiny? Who needs it? I will not be a pawn in everyone else's game.
I'll create my own.

The View

Gazing out to the horizon
Dusk is drawing near.
Glimmering lights, twinkling stars.
The sun is setting here.

The horizon's line is mountainous
Which expand across my view.
The shimmering lake, a breeze through my hair
Stars twinkling brightly at you.

The grass is cool and soft to touch;
I could lay out here all night.
And take in all the wonders here
That come out in the night.

Out here when I'm all alone, it's cold,
And there's nothing I can do
But curl up in a ball and wait,
Cause the only thing missing is you.

Describe Me

People always try to describe me. But, really, what is there to describe? I've got a whole list of words people have used though; brilliant, strange, out of the ordinary, stubborn, genius, open minded, proud, odd, far fetched, weird, anything but normal...
Normal. I scoff at the word. Have you ever thought about it really? What is normal? After all, who's to say what is considered out of the ordinary or simply what is best? Society could just be wrong in all its thinking. Perhaps, I not only am normal, but weird as well. I've seen things, you know. I've heard sweet nothings and been around for things you couldn't begin to imagine. And somehow, that's considered weird. To hear voices in my head, to see things before they happen. I'm like Jon Schmidt's Pachabel meets U2, only I'm Edward meets Alice, as disgusted as I am at using a Twilight reference. But how else can I describe the phenomena that is me?
Right. I can't.
And frankly, neither can you.

Spotlight

I can't say I always knew this was going to happen. I mean, who dreams up as a little kid that by the time they're 17, they're the prime suspect in a cold blooded murder? Oh, not to mention it's your best friend who is now dead.
As a general rule, I'm not usually angered very often. I've killed spiders in my life, and that is pretty much the extent of my violent streak. I wasn't one of those kids in a gang since I was 11, always carrying a gun or knife up my sleeve. In fact, I've only been shooting twice in my entire life, and that was with my brothers and brothers-in-law out in the middle of nowhere on a mountain with clay pigeons.
So how did I just get thrown into the spotlight of this?

Superman

I opened the front door and immediately regretted doing so as my eyes focused on the scene before me. Bile built in my mouth as I stared at my sister with her flowing brown hair, lip locked and arms tangled around my soon to be ex.
I took a step toward my sister and backhanded her face. Then I turned to him.
"Guys night out, huh?" I asked before I turned on my heel and walked back outside without a second thought.
"We're through, Brian. Don't bother calling later with an apology," I called out as the door slammed close. 
Who needs a superman anyway?

Addiction

I've been sitting in front of this computer for the last 6 or so hours. Why? Because I have an addiction.

Whoa, now wait a minute. Before you start coming up with a million reasons as to what this addiction is, let me put your mind at ease. It's not porn, World of Warcraft, or even the new Star Craft 2 game. In fact, it's nothing even relatively similar. It's something far more hilarious, entertaining and, might I say, witty than any other of these things one normally does on a computer. 

Veronica Mars has taken over my life.

All right, so perhaps I'm being a little melodramatic. It's only actually been a day since I've been watching, but oh, I don't want to go to sleep. Early work? Overrated. Sleep? Ah, who needs it? I've got Logan to keep me up all night. Him and his smart alek ways and his extremely attractive facial expressions. But I won't prattle on about that.

Needless to say though, I don't know how I'm going to get up for work and school in the morning. Maybe I'll just skip out for a day.

That sounds like a good plan.

Until next time, journal.
I placed the pen down and shut the journal cover. After putting it on my nightstand, I pulled up my laptop again and typed in the password. Within moments, my screen loaded and up popped Logan's face, mid expression. Priceless.
"And here's to a night of being alone and perfectly okay with that," I said, leaning back, kicking my feet up, and preparing myself for an all nighter. Man, I love college.

The One You Love

Every time I look your way
A smile comes upon my face.
I see the twinkle in your eyes
And my heart begins to race.

I think of ways to make you smile
The most brilliant in the room.
Then as you stand beside me
I can smell of your perfume.

And memories flood my mind
As I remember perfectly that scent.
The look that said a thousand words;
The kiss and what it meant.

All things led up to this moment.
The one that's here and now.
It took years to come to pass
For us to make our vows.

Not the ones that say to us,
"Until death do us part."
But ones that say, "Forever, my love,
You'll always be in my heart."

It's not just an elusive dream
I came up with on my own.
It's something real, delightful, and warm
That ensures I'll never be alone.

I'm filled with joy at the thought,
To always be considered beloved.
But, oh, even forever isn't long enough
To be with the one you love.