As said by my friend "Go Suck a Baby!"

For those that believe in a God, I only have one thing to say. He is a nasty son of a bitch that loves to fuck with people.

Had the best night last night with Concubine, Stitch, Penguin, Kindergarten, Brondon and Digin. The Villa was amazing; performing in the amphitheater, acting like goofs in the museum, attacking yummy cakes after gorging on humungo burgers. Taking detours to find a place in the middle of nowhere that carries a certain product that we need. Eating burgers again for dinner and eating frozen yogurt as well. Yelling at the top of our lungs about a dying need for milkshakes, getting dirty looks from random people because we are being obnoxious and loud and disrupting. Going the beach at night, yelling at each other "Don't run off! We don't want you to get raped!" Tackling each other into the sand, straddling a giant cannon and taking pictures. Walking the long stretch of sand to get the water's edge and seeing people having sex and laughing about it. Blasting music in the car and singing at the top of our lungs and setting off car alarms. Over all, one of the best nights ever to be had and enjoyed.

Wake up the next day to find out that the person you love immensely is gone, is missing, and you can't get a hold of them. You don't know if they're okay, you don't know if they're alive, you don't know anything and the worry you feel eats at you and rips you apart. Having them tell you they love you, and that you are the best thing they have in their life and will always cherish you makes the worry worse.

So here I sit, thinking about last night and everything we did, thinking about the one I that is lost to me, but hopefully I'll hear from him and see him soon, and thinking about the fun times we are going to have tonight.

My head is a tornado that is wreaking destruction on everything it touches, causing my emotions to go berserk. My head is spinning, my heart feels like there's an anvil sitting on it with Wil-E Coyote sitting on top of that.

I sit wondering how to act tonight when I'm with all my friends. Do I act all merry and not think about what is bothering me? Do I think about what's bothering me and half-ass my way through the night pretending to be happy?

The saying "Only time will tell" comes to mind, and right now, I hate it.

How Far Would You Go?

"Oh c'mon! You can't be serious! That's not fair..."

"What the hell is going on over there?! Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. This stupid car in front of me can't effing DRIVE so those of us who can have to suffer because some moron at the DMV passed this idiot on his driving test."

"Jeez, babe, calm down. I mean, where's that submachine I have. I know it's around here somewhere."

"You know, you are probably the only person who can make me smile at a time like this without wanting to strangle you. Oh and by the way, you're sitting in my lap."

"Aww, I love you too, and I'm sitting where now? Why didn't you tell me this before? I could've made a ton of sex jokes this entire time! You are depriving a man of his sexual innuendos. Do you realize how severely damaging that is to us?"

"Ha ha ha. Very funny. And yes, I think I read about the damage it causes to the brain and how incredibly adorable and smart mouthed it makes my boyfriend."

"Touche, love, touche. So where are you now?"

"Ugh...I'm on the freeway, stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, halfway home, and I've been on the road for oh, I don't know, twenty minutes already. I would've been home by now if these idiots would just get out my way! I'm tired, I'm sleepy, I'm slightly depressed and I just want to go home."

"Okay...I get the first two. What is this about being depressed? Did you stop taking your pills again? I told you not to do it. You know how it turns you into the spawn of Satan and we have awesome phone sex."

"Shut it! That's our little secret! You're not supposed to blab it to the world! What the hell kind of boyfriend are you?"

"Alright alright, I'll keep it on the down low. But seriously, whats wrong?"

"I don't know. I just fell into one of my slightly less happy moods. And seeing the guy int he car behind me laughing his ass off with his girlfriend in the car isn't making me feel any better."

"Sounds like someone misses me."

"Well duh. There's no arguing that one dummy. I don't know man...I just want to go home, go to my room, turn off the lights and just curl up in my bed and chase the demons away."

"A few more months baby and then I'll be there. I promise. Just hang in there."

"I know, I know. I'm counting down the days until....SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

"Say what now?".....Baby?.....Hello?....I know you didn't hang up on me, I can hear noise over there? What the hell was that giant thunk?! Why are there sirens there?! Schuyler? Schuyler?!?!?!?!?"

It was just another day for Schuyler. Get up in the morning, eat breakfast, go to work, come home. Today she spent the day helping her boss fill out her schedule for the fall. So many students! Her boss runs a piano school and they both sat down for five hours, trying to figure out which student they could pencil at what time, at which studio, on what day, according to the family's request of course. After that, Schuyler spent the next two hours sitting in front of the computer at the office, surfing the net, chatting away and just relaxing. Once the clock read five o'clock, she was so out of there. Hop in the car, hit the freeway and head on home. It was just another day, until IT happened.

She was talking to her beau to keep herself from falling asleep at the wheel and also because she missed him. As they were laughing and talking, and him making her feel better and waking her up, she suddenly felt herself spinning in midair, gravel, sky, gravel, sky, until she ended up seeing nothing but dirt and trees. She blinked a few times thinking, "Don't panic. Don't panic." She had watched enough shows, and read enough books to know that if she started to panic, her heartbeat would speed up, her blood pressure would sky rocket and she would pass out. She did NOT want to pass out. Letting out a deep breathe, she winced as she realized that not everything was okay. Bones were broken, there was blood everywhere and there was someone screaming her name, but she couldn't pinpoint where the sound was coming from or who was screaming.

Schuyler stayed as still as possible until the sirens were close by. She let herself relax as much as possible without causing herself any more pain. The incessant screaming of her name hadn't stopped. The memory of having conversation was there in her mind but she couldn't remember who she was talking to, or when she was having the conversation. Boot clad feet appeared in her vision, as she saw the firemen and the police running to her side. They somehow got her free of the trap that she was in. Looking back, she saw her car, or what used to be her car. There was a giant dent in the middle of it, between both doors on the driver's side. It looked like the hulk took a giant fist and punched her car so that one side of it nearly met the other. Schuyler shuddered at the scene and what could have been her body spread like jelly across the passenger side window and seat. Right as she turned her head around, she remembered who she was talking to and when. She realized who was screaming her name while she was waiting for the cops to get there. It was Riley. Her boyfriend. He was screaming her name at the top of his lungs. She could hear the fear in his voice. Feel it run through her veins. He was so scared that she was dead. He wasn't here to come running to her side. The millisecond it took for all these thoughts to process in her head was enough to make her turn pale and go cold instantly. She started screaming his name, over and over, so he would know that she was okay. She had to let him know. The fireman that was carrying her set her down to look at her and try to calm her down. Her face looked like someone turned the sprinklers on to wash away the mud that was stuck to her face.

"Miss? Miss? Miss why are you yelling? You're safe."

"My phone. My phone is in the car!"

A look of annoyance and astonishment crossed the man's face at her words. "Miss, I don't think your phone is the least of your worries right now. You can always get another one."

"I don't care about the phone! My boyfriend is still on the line and he's been screaming my name for the past I don't know how long it took you guys to get here! I didn't remember it was him but now I do! Please! Please just someone pick it up and talk to him! Tell him anything, everything! Just please!"

The fireman rushed her over to the Emergency Unit and let the EMT take her to work on her. Once he knew she was settled in and ready to be rushed to the hospital, he turned around and made his way to the hunk of scrap metal that he pulled the girl out from. He was still surprised that the girl had survived the wreck with nothing but broken bones. He knelt by the door he dragged her out from and yelled into the air, "Hello?" Honestly, he felt like an idiot, but the girl was insistent about it so he had to at least try. Nothing. He tried again. "Hello? Is there anyone here?" There was nothing, for the beat of a heartbeat then all of a sudden, a broken down, high pitched squeal that should not come out from a mans throat, "SCHUYLER?!"

"Schuyler's on her way to the hospital. She got into an accident and is in the ambulance,being rushed over as we speak. I'm the fireman that pulled her out. Keep talking until I find the phone."

"Where is she?! Is she okay?! How bad is she hurt?! What happened?! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

"RELAX! She's fine. She's only got broken bones. They're bad, but not that bad where they can't be fixed. She's not bleeding internally, and that's the best news you could get from this kind of crash. You'r girl is going to be just fine. I'm Scott by the way."

"What do you mean 'this kind of crash'?" How bad is it? I'm Riley. Oh my god, what is she going to do when she wakes up and I'm not there? No, this can't be happening!"

"Once we know which hospital she's at, we can find out which room and you can go see her. It's not big a deal."

"No, you don't understand. I don't even live there! I live on the east coast!"

"Well that is problematic. Unless you fly over here. That's always an option. You don't have to beat yourself up over something you can't control. Aha! I found you. Alright then, I'm going to hang up the phone and head on over to the hospital and drop of this off. My word of advice, get on the first flight here if it's bothering you that much. It was good talking to you. I hope it all works out."

Click. And that was that. The guy just hung up on him! Schuyler had just gotten into an accident. His baby was in the hospital with a bunch of broken bones. And he was at home flipping out. He told himself to calm down. Flipping out wasn't going to help Schuyler or his situation. Riley ran his options through his head. 1- He could hop on the next plane and be by her side within the next couple hours, with money he didn't have. 2- He could drive there and be there within a couple days, paying for gas with money he didn't have. 3- He could pull out cash from his account that has was saving up for a trip for both of them to take together, as a surprise to her. His best bet, was option number one. Two would just take too long for him. Long enough to drive him crazy. Three was always replaceable. He could always save up more money to take her on a trip. But if there was no Schuyler, there would be no trip. His mind made up, Riley went to the bank, took out as much money as he needed, drove like a lunatic to the airport, bought his ticket to the first flight to Los Angeles. Sitting in the small seats in the plane and fidgeting with every little thing got him glares and nasty looks from the people around him, but he didn't see them. He didn't see anything but Schuyler's face.

The plane landed, he got his luggage and just stood there, in the terminal thinking, "What now? You didn't plan the rest of the idea genius." But he had an idea. It was worth a long shot, but it was the only one he had. Riley took out his phone and dialed Schuyler's number, hoping her mom was there by now and that she'd pick up.

Ring...ring..."Hello? Who is this?"

The second ring. Wow, luck was definitely on his side tonight. Now, how do you approach your girlfriend's mother, whom you have never spoken to nor ever seen, who is frantic over her daughter's state of being. "Umm, is this Schuyler's mom?"

"No, this is the boogeyman. Yes, this is Schuyler's mom! Now who are you and what do you want?"

"Umm...my name is Riley. I'm"

"Riley? As in her boyfriend who lives on the east coast, Riley?"

"Ya. You know about me?"

"Of course I know about you. What, do you think my daughter would have a boyfriend and not tell me?!"

"Well, umm, not many people take online dating very seriously. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love your daughter and all, but I just didn't think she would tell anyone."

"Well, she told me, and some of her dearest friends know too. But this is beside the point. What do you want? Why are you calling? This is not the best time."

"I know, I know. I was just wondering, if you could tell me which hospital she's in and what room. I want to see her."

"See her? You are talking as if you are already here in Los Angeles. And how did you know she was in the hospital?"

"We were talking when she got hit. The fireman that took her out of the car came back for the phone to find me because he said that Schuyler was screaming for him to go back and find me. And yes, actually, I'm at the airport. I hadn't really planned what I was going to do once I landed, but I was hoping you would pick up when I called."

Silence.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"You flew...all the way...from the east coast....to see my daughter."

"Yeah. Was that a mistake?"

"No. No mistake. It's just, I don't think I've ever seen a single outsider care this much about her."

"Outsider? Never-mind, you can tell me later. Listen, I love your daughter and I nearly lost my brains by the time I got here. Can you please tell me where she is so I can come see her? Please?"

After about five minutes of getting the information he needed, Riley hailed a cab and told the driver where to go. The hour long drive was unbearable. He was so close to her, and yet so far away. When they finally arrived in front of the hospital doors, Riley stepped out, payed the cab driver, and walked through the doors. He went to the desk area and asked them where her room was. He took the elevators up five flights of stairs, and ended up in the ICU. He took a deep breathe and walked down the hallway until he found a woman pacing outside, back forth, in front of a certain room. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling it was Schuyler's mom. He was right. She looked up when she saw him, and smiled. The smile made him stop dead in his tracks. It was the kind of smile someone shares with a person they love dearly, or someone that means a lot to them. And from what Schuyler has said about her mom, she wasn't all that accepting. It made him hesitate. Schuyler had also mentioned how smart her mom was, and she picked up on his hesitation in a heartbeat. "Don't worry," she said, "I don't mistrust you, or hate you, or anything negative. I couldn't, after seeing you did all this just to see my baby." She opened the door for him and he made his way inside. Only one visitor was allowed at a time.

Riley stopped just inside the door, looking at Schuy. She was huddled in the fetal position,pr as close as she could get, clutching herself, with her eyes shut tight. On leg was pinned against the bed, straight, so as to not move it around and disrupt the process of her bones knitting themselves back together. She had her arm in a sling, with cuts and scrapes and bruises and bandages all over her arms and legs. Her face, though, was unharmed. There were a few cuts here and there, but nothing serious. She hadn't heard him come in. He walked closer to her bed until he realized that she was crying. The closer he got, the more her crying turned into whimpers and pleas. As soon as he got the bed, he could hear her begging, begging that he was okay. In all this, in everything that she had just gone through, she was worrying about him. Worrying that he was okay, that his sanity was intact. He sat down on the bed behind her and started stroking her hair. Until now he hadn't realized just how much she loved him. She would always sound so neutral and bland over the phone when it came to talking about their relationship and her love for him. He used to think that it was because she didn't love him as much as he loved her, or even at all. But until this very moment, he truly understood. She was scared he would leave her. She was afraid to show him her love for him for fear that she loved him more and that it would scare him away. He remembered that conversation very clearly, when she had told him how many people had broken her heart before for that very reason. He leaned down and nuzzled her cheek. Her eyes flew wide open, and she looked like a deer caught in headlights. It was the cutest, most vulnerable look he had ever seen on anyone's face. Once she realized who it was, she turned her head back around and started sobbing uncontrollably. Riley lay down behind her, and as gently as he could, wrapped his arms around her until she calmed down and finally fell asleep. He let his own tears trail down his cheeks and into her hair. He stayed that way for the longest time, while his girl slept peacefully, cradled in his arms.

Santa Maria Cottage Welcomes You

Everything's so white. The walls. The tiles. This jacket! Why is everything so white?!

Jacob sat in the cold, dank room, hugging himself as he rocked back and forth, leaning against the wall. The jacket he was wearing, more like restrained in, held his arms securely against his body, and wrapped behind his back so there was nowhere for his arms to go. He kept whispering to himself, "Why? Why am I here? Why did they bring me here? I'm a good kid. I didn't hurt anyone. Why?" It was his first week here, at the Santa Maria Cottage, and no it wasn't a nice cozy little cottage out in the woods where grandma bakes cookies and gives them out the village kids who come in and sit by the fire. It was NOTHING remotely close to that. Santa Maria Cottage; home to the local psychos, schizo's, cutters, possessed, downers, manic depressed, sociopaths, the whole shebang. For Jacob, this was now home. Definitely not a home that he wanted, but he would soon realize it was the only place he had.

It had been a little over a year since Jacob was admitted to this hellhole. He was slowly adjusting to the place. It wasn't your average psych ward that you read about in books, or see in the movies. No visitors, no phone calls, no letters, no contact with the outside world whatsoever. The only contact the 'inmates' had were staff members, the walls and the other cell mates, and even that was rare. The reason he called them 'inmates', like a prison, was because the Cottage, was just that. It was one giant mind-fuck. The name was cutesy and gave off an air of peace, the place itself gave you that feeling that this was the place that people with problems come to get the help they need, while in actuality, the place was like fucking Auschwitz! One wrong move and you would either be strapped down to a chair or a gurney while the nurses played doctor and stuck needles in you, connected to a high voltage box and turned the dial to 1000 just to fuck with you and give themselves a good laugh.

Year Two. The place was getting too unbearable. There was no one to talk to. All the inmates were either too fucked up to be let out of their cells to wander around even for just a few minutes or too depressed, sitting in a corner staring at the clock, or the wall, or the window, or the ceiling, or the floor, hugging themselves. There were also some of the crazies who would sit as far away from anyone as they possibly could, somewhere away from as much light as possible, eyes open wide, watching every little movement everyone made, and if someone, or something unseen to everybody else, got too close, they would run, screeching as if someone just branded them with a hot iron, flailing their arms like spaghetti, hitting a wall when turning a corner every here and there. At least it was a form of entertainment, though cruel and small it may be, but hey, a guy's gotta find some kind of hobby while in here.

Year Three. Something interesting finally happened today. Some new kid got admitted today, and low and behold, he's actually one of the more normal people we got shacked up in here. Hey, I'll most likely see him out in the mess hall during our so wonderful lunch breaks where we are actually allowed reassurance that there are people outside the four fucking walls that have become our nearest and dearest friends. So the new guy's name is Anthony. I wonder how much he'll last here until he goes crazy and the drugs make him hallucinate and see things. Yeah I said it. The drugs here don't fucking help; they just make you more crazy so the doctors have a reason to keep you here. It's like a jail man! The people here are sick and twisted in the head. If anyone needs the treatment, it's them! They're pumping us with all sorts of drugs, with who knows what kind of crazy amount of doses that leave us all jacked up and seeing shit. If I could get my hands on one of those needles, I'd shove in my doctor's neck. I'd love to see Dr. Deguzmen have a taste of his own medicine; see what it's like to be all drugged up and seeing crazy shit. Let's see how it feels to wrapped up in a straight-jacket for a full week, you fucking bastard!

So today I found out that that Anthony kid punched Dr. D in the nose. I'm really beginning to like this kid.Oh, and I also found out that he's got the cell next to mine. Isn't this my lucky day. Now I don't have to maintain my pledge of being mute for the rest of my stay here at Santa Maria Cottage. God, how I hate the name to this place. So just to clear things up, I'm stuck in the Isolation unit, where I don't get to see or talk to anyone for twenty two hours a day. The other two hours are spend talking with the doctors and therapists; a lot of good they did us. How do I know about the other inmates and crazies that I mentioned previously? Because I would see them, briefly, on my way to the doctor's office. But now I had someone else to talk to during my days spent confined in a room full of NOTHING. At least the builders of the place were nice enough to put in vents that would let us communicate otherwise I would forget what it was like to speak.

It's almost the end of year 4, and I have officially crossed the hedge. I'm crazy; there's no denying it. They have put me in this rubber room, where everything is white. Odd enough, this place looks familiar. I can't put my finger on it, but I feel like I've been in this room before. Either I'm hallucinating and conjuring up memories to make myself feel better (or make my point that I have officially entered crazyville) or that this is some repressed memory that doesn't want to resurface. In any case, I know this room, I just don't know how.

I don't know what day it is anymore. I don't even know what time of day it is; morning, afternoon, night. Hell, I don't know anything anymore other than if I don't see something besides these white walls sometime soon I'm gonna go really overboard.

Sometime a little after sometime soon.
THE FUCKING WALLS!!! I CANT TAKE THE WHITE WALLS ANYMORE! And that stupid guard that sits outside my cell, watching, waiting; waiting for an excuse to lock me up in a more secure place, an excuse to beat the crap out of me with his baton, an excuse for anything! He's got to be disposed of. No! I have a better idea. I can use him as bait. That's it, I can use him to get to the doctor's office, have a sharp object at his throat, threaten to cut up his jugular if the doctor doesn't do what I tell him to do. I like this plan already. Now I all I need is a weapon. Hehe, let's see if the douche-bag guard can be of use before I make him crap his pants.

Wow, he actually did it. The idiot gave me a pen and let me use the bathroom. What a fucking moron! HAH! Let's see who'll be the one smirking at the end of this little battle dickhead. This is my chance, my only chance. I have one shot at this. Once I open the bathroom door to be led back to my prison, I have to be quick and bring the pen around to his neck and squeeze. Of course, I don't want to kill him, just yet, because I need him as leverage. If the nice doctor wants to save this man's nasty hide, he has to listen to me. Alright Jacob, it's show time.

"What the?!"

Don't move, or scream, or call for backup. Do you understand me? I don't care if it means going back to that cell and back into that jacket, or worse, if I kill you, but I will enjoy it so don't press your luck. Lead me to the doctor's office if you want to stay alive. I'm sure the good doctor will be so kinda as to protect you from the crazed lunatic that has become me due to his incessant drug pumping and greed for money and power.

Gulps. "Okay. Okay. Just don't kill me. Please. We're heading to the office now."
Good man. Now don't make it look obvious that you're scared shit-less of me, otherwise the rest of the staff will know something's not right. Put on your big boy, guard face and let's go. Good.

"What is the meaning of this?! Jacob! Why are you holding a sharp pen to the guards neck?! Better yet, where the hell did you get a pen and how did you sharpen it?!"

I wouldn't raise my voice, ask questions about where I got things from or how I did what I did, or anything to piss me off any more than I already am and throw me overboard. If you want to save your precious guard, whose sanity means more to you than your patient's, then do what I say.

"Alright. Okay. What do you want me to do Jacob?"

I want you to call my mother. I want you to tell her that it was a mistake having someone bring me here and having me committed. To tell her that I don't belong here with all the crazy people. That I am totally fine, I'm cured, I'm saved, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Just tell her to come get me out of here! Otherwise, precious Mr. Guard ends his life right here, right now.

"Jacob. I don't know of any way to tell you this without making you angrier or more irrational. But I will tell you because it is what you want? Will you at least let the guard go before I tell you? Please? I want nothing but everyone's safety. If you hurt the guard than I will have to call for security, and the police, to detain in any means necessary to keep you from hurting anyone else, and I don't want to have to do that. So, can you please let him go? Or at least, put the pen down?"

How do I know you wont automatically try and sick the other guards on me, pump so much with drugs that I pass out and find myself in that rubber room again, without you having done what I came here for?

"Jacob, I promise you that I will tell you what you want to know and do what you wish for me to do, if it is within my power."

Fine. Whatever. It can't get any worse than it already is.

"Thank you. Now, I really don't know how to tell you, but your mother...she's been dead for quite some time now. I know it's not something you want to hear, especially in the state you are in, but I told you I would tell you, and I have, even though it pains me to do so. Jacob...Jacob! Jacob calm down!!! Get off the orderly! Let her go! She hasn't done anything to hurt you! SECURITY!!! SECURITY!!! HELP!!!"

She's dead. How can she be dead? HOW!? Mom...why? Why did you have to leave? You fuckin bitch! You've always been selfish! You just had to die and rest in peace while your son is rotting away in a prison! A place he has no right to be in! You don't care about me at all do you! You never have! WHY?!!! What did I ever do to make you not want me?! What did I do?!! Mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!

My last day. Today is my last day. I'm finally clocking out of this place. I'm finally going to be free. All the shit that's happened, all the shit I've been through, all the drugs they've pumped into me, it's all come to an end. I have to admit though there have been some good moments, and odd enough, they've all included that Anthony kid. He kept me a little sane while we roomed next door to one another. Our daily conversations through the vents, the satisfied look on his face when I attacked that guard...good times. But now I'm finally leaving. I hope he's doing good; at least one of us normal people deserve a happy ending. My happy ending starts today. Mom, I'm sorry I yelled at you and called you a selfish bitch. I was hurt and angry at the time, but I know you loved me, and that you still do. Don't worry though mom, I'll see you in a bit. Your little boy is coming home.

In memory of Jacob Gaurdado. Born 1987, died 2003.
May you rest in peace.

The Reason Behind It All

So this is different to what I've written before, but it is something very important to me and I'm doing everything I can to get the word out there. This is a biographical piece about what and, specifically, WHO got me into writing and loving English and pursuing it as my career choice. This is the story of how my life changed over a piece of overheard conversation between a teacher and some of her students in class, and the role she has played to this very day in my life. Everything I know about English and writing is because of her. I love you Mrs. Martin. You will always be the best teacher a girl could ask for and the one that means the most to me.

(Just a warning before you read on; It's looong.)

Remember that one person that changed your life? That one person that opened your eyes and made you see something that was right in front of you your entire life but you never actually saw it, that one person that taught you how to enjoy something that you had no love for from the beginning of time? I did, and that person was Mrs. Martin. She did something, to this day I’m not sure what that something is but it turned my life around and I somehow, miraculously actually enjoyed and appreciated her class, her subject. English had become the highlight of my day when I would wake up in the morning and get ready to go to school.

Mathematics is an acquired taste. You either love it and excel at it, or you hate it and fail miserably at it. Coming home from school, I would go to my room, open my backpack, take out my math book and notebook and start the homework assigned for that day. When the teacher would tell us what our homework would be, inside my head I would yell, “Ah c’mon! That’s it?! Sigh…I wish she had assigned just a little bit more. I’ll be done with all this in thirty minutes, and then I have to start my English homework. Grr…” Calculator in my hand (when it was allowed) I would get to work and have the best time doing homework. Yes, I know, I sound like the biggest loser ever for wishing my teacher had assigned more math homework and actually enjoying doing the work, but that’s who I used to be, before then end of 10^th grade.

It was some time towards the end of my sophomore year when we were all sitting in Mrs. Martin’s English class in the morning, and at the same time, our home room class. We had finished the work that she had assigned us to do and everyone was doing something different to kill time until the bell rang and class ended. Some were playing with their iPods, some were doing homework for their other classes, some of us were turned around in our chairs talking to our friends and the rest of the students were all talking to Mrs. Martin, pestering her with annoying, unimportant questions. Suzie was throwing question after question in Mrs. Martin’s face, and her being the cool, amazingly calm teacher/person that she is, answered every single question in stride, never losing her temper, never raising her voice. Sirvart was also there, asking questions but being more subtle about it. I was talking to my friend Nadine when all of a sudden I heard Mrs. Martin say the word vampire. I wasn’t sure what the topic of conversation was between her, Sirvart and Suzie but I was suddenly intrigued. I continued talking to Nadine but kept half of my attention on the conversation being held behind me; it had something to do with a book.

After class was over we wall headed to our next destination, ready to get the day started and quickly finished. Later that day there was an assembly of some sort in the auditorium. I left a little early, but before I made my exit I stopped by Mrs. Martin’s seat and asked her about the book she was talking about in class with the other students. She said to me “I don’t remember the title of the book but the author’s name is Stephenie Meyer and the cover is a picture of two hands holding an apple.” I took in every word she spoke like a man stuck in the desert takes every drop of water to stay alive. After I said goodbye to both Mr. and Mrs. Martin I made my way to my locker, packed up, and went outside to wait for my mom to come pick me up. I got in the car and I told her to take me to Borders. The look she gave me was classic. She turned her head and looked at me like I’d grown a second head and asked me, after a moment of shocked silence “Why do you want to go to a bookstore?” I looked back at her and said in my very bland voice, “Mrs. Martin was talking about this book in class. I want to see what it’s about. It sounded interesting.” My mother looked at me for another moment or two to make sure I wasn’t pulling her chain and drove off to Borders. We walked in to the store and I went to the first person I saw that worked there. I asked them if they knew about a book that had two hands holding an apple on the cover and the authors name was Stephenie something. They very politely looked it up and led me to the Young Adult section of the store, picked up a book from the shelf and handed it to me. It was the book that Mrs. Martin was talking about. We walked to the check-out counter and I bought the book. I wasn’t sure what propelled me to actually BUY the book, but I did it anyways. When I look back on it now, I think the main reason was because it was something that Mrs. Martin had enjoyed and liked and that meant a lot, even though I didn’t realize it.

The school year ended and I put sophomore year behind me. The first days of summer were here, and I started them off with taking a peek at this book. It was a hardcover edition, shiny slip on cover; black background, white arms, pale as snow against the stark black, extending to the middle-bottom section of the cover holding a bright red apple, with the title Twilight running across the top. I opened the book and it creaked like any other book would because this was the first time it was being opened. But this creak sounded different to me because in some distance, far away part in my head unbeknownst to me, the first sound of this book being in my hands, being read by my eyes, the words, story line and writing style being taken in and absorbed by my brain would be the turning point for the rest of my life.

I read, and I read, and I read. I could not put that book down no matter what I tried. The minute I opened it and the first page caught my eye; “I’d never given much thought to how I would die – though I’d had reason enough in the last few months – but even if I had, I would not have imagine it like this. I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me. Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something. I knew that if I’d never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end. The hunter smiled in a friendly way was he sauntered forward to kill me.” I was hooked, and I knew. What I didn’t know was just how hooked I was.

Fast forward to the beginning of 11^th grade. When the letter came in the mail telling us what our schedule was going to be like I was so nervous. I opened the letter and looked at my classes. I blew out a breathe I didn’t realize I had been holding what my eyes saw and my brain registered; English – Mrs. Martin. I felt the smile spread across my face like dawn spreads across the sky. I had Mrs. Martin. I HAD MRS. MARTIN! Oh, this was going to be a good year. Now it’s true that I didn’t enjoy every book we had to read or every story that was in our textbook, but it’s like that with every subject and at the same time, I was still finding out where my interests lay. More quickly that I wanted to admit I was becoming a reader. My friends would always see me with a book in my hand, and the more I read, the faster and better I got at it and my friends would soon me with a different book in my hand every week. No one knew where the change had come from and sometimes I forgot that I was changing at all. Reading, writing and learning about English had felt like second nature to me by the middle of that school year. It was hard to imagine that I used to hate this beautiful subject and actually enjoy math. Math! Out of all subjects…math. I couldn’t stand the sight of numbers, equations, problems, none of it.

For three years, Mrs. Martin was my English and Grammar teacher. At first, that was all she was; just a teacher. The next two years, she became so much more than that. She became my idol, my inspiration, my teacher beyond the classroom. Her teaching method’s are beyond comparison. I may be a little biased in this case but the teacher’s I’ve had in college are nothing like her. She made English intriguing. She knew how to teach, how to explain and how to make us put our understanding of what we had learned before into what we were learning at the time. It is because of her that I have made it to where I am today. It is because of this amazing woman, this incredible teacher that I am pursuing a career in English and learning more and more each and every day from the small, simple things, mistakes people make here and there when they speak, when they write, even when I speak and write, that I remember my days in her classroom and all the knowledge that has stayed with me, and will remain with me.

Even though Mrs. Martin is not the one who is being fired, the result is nonetheless the same. Mr. and Mrs. Martin a pair; getting rid of one means getting rid of both. They both love to teach and they are both the best at what they do. Whatever reason it is that has been created, the resulting factor of having them both leave the school is going to be the biggest mistake this school can possibly make. These teachers mean so much to the students, and being alumni I know what I’m talking about. I have friends in mostly every grade in high school at A.G.B.U and more acquaintances who all love the Martins. I have yet to meet a single person who doesn’t appreciate them and what they have to offer. The Martins are probably Manoogian’s greatest asset and most valuable educators they will ever see. Please, I beg you, all of you, whoever is reading this letter, whoever is in charge, KEEP THE MARTINS AT AGBU! Don’t let a good thing slip your fingers only to realize what a stupid mistake you made later on after it’s too late to fix the situation. Don’t take away the light they may shine into someone else’s life like they did to mine. We need more people like them in the world and having them in our little piece of it is a blessing. Make the right choice and listen to your hearts and to the voices of the many students who are writing to you, begging you, bleeding their hearts on paper to help make you understand. We are pleading for our favorite teachers. You cannot fake this kind of devotion and dedication nor can you find it anywhere else. You say you want what is best for the students, so listen to the masses, and really listen.

Like Footprints in the Sands of Time

Some things come and go over the years, but some things stay with you forever. Sam was on his way home from a friend's house, fiddling with her iPod to get a good song on to set the mood for the twenty minute drive home. While in the process of finding a song, a thought slipped through her mind. Her thumb froze on the click-wheel, her eyes frozen on the white screen of the iPod. She sat up in her car seat, gripped the wheel like it was a life-line, and stared off into the night. Her eyes were wide, she could feel her heart thundering in her chest, hear her blood flowing through her veins. It was happening again. Fear gripped her on the edge of hysteria. She couldn't move, couldn't think straight; crap! "Get a hold of yourself Sam. It's just a memory. Nothing more. He's not here right now. He's not here anymore. Breathe, just breathe" Step one: Assess the situation Step two: Take deep calming breaths. Step three: Drive home as fast, and as safely, as you can! Sam blinked away the tears that had welled up in her eyes, put the car in gear and drove off. She hit the freeway and thought of nothing for as long as she could. The meditation sessions with her friend paid off in situations like this. The emptiness, the blackness, the stillness; it filled her until there was nothing left. The drive home became like a distant dream, as if she wasn't really the one behind the wheel, remembering all those horrible thoughts, those memories. Pull into the driveway, put the car in park, open the door, close the door, lock the car, open the gate, walk up the porch steps, open the door, close the door, walk to room, flop on bed, go to sleep. It was so not real, so robotic. The minute she stepped into her room, the emptiness filled in, the blackness became light, and the stillness became motion. The veil fell away so quickly that it knocked her off her feet and she found herself on her bed, and blacked out. Sam woke and found herself clutching, clinging to her pillow that her fingers were sore from holding on for so long, so hard. Her throat was all scratchy and wispy and she realized that the screaming she heard before she blacked out was her own screams. The dream was as black as the paint that covered the canvas in her studio; there was no room for light. She sat up in bed, and stared at her room. Stared at everything that had her spirit, her insignia, her mark on it. Everything she saw was a part of her, a part of who she was, where she came from, what she's been through and what she's seen. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breathe, she let last night's little breakdown come flooding back. Opening her eyes and letting out that breath, she let the emotions flow through her and fill her. It had been a year since her last "episode" and even then it didn't hit as hard as it did this time. Why was it happening again? Why now? "Every time I think I'm free, every time I'm happy, something has to come in the way of that and ruin it! It's not fair!" she exclaimed to the room. "It's over, it's done. It's over, it's done" she repeated to herself over and over again until she found herself rocking back and forth while still sitting in her bed.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. "Ugh! Leave me alone!" Sam got the phone in her hand and was about to throw it across the room, but she saw a glimpse of the name and number on the screen. "No...no...no no no no no!!!!!!" The phone lay on the bed, completely harmless as it continued to buzz waiting for someone to answer it, while Sam crawled away and watched the phone through horror filled eyes as if it was a giant bug about to break out of its shell and chase her.

It was him.

The buzzing stopped, then one quick buzz to indicate that she had a new voice mail. Dialing her in-box, punching in her password and she heard the voice she thought she would never hear again. The message said:

"Hey Sam, it's me, Zach. It's been a while and I just wanted to say hey and see how you were doing. Listen, I'm gonna be in town for a little bit and wondered if you'd like to grab lunch sometime or something. I'm staying at this fancy hotel in downtown with some name I can't really pronounce. Here's the number you can reach me at if you want to get in touch. Hope to hear from you soon. I missed you." Click.

I missed you. Those three words kept playing over and over in her head until she thought her head would explode. She had to do something. She had to get away. She had to tell someone, otherwise she would pick up that phone, make the call and find herself in a deep, dark hole that she could have avoided. But who to call? Steven didn't live here anymore, Genevieve was away at school until the weekend, Anita was at work the whole day, and Claire was sick and moody. No, the only person she could talk to right now was Genevieve, and even if she was two hours away, she would drive there and see her best friend.

"Hey Sammy! Whats up?"

"Hey Genie. Are you busy?"

"Sammy, whats wrong? Don't tell me nothing, 'cause I can tell by the way you answered that something's wrong. What is it?"

"Genie I need to see you. I need to talk to you. Can I come down?"

"You're lucky Sammich. I don't have much work to do this week and the prof's didn't assign anything for the day so c'mon down!"

"Thanks Genie. I'll be there soon. And make me a sammich when I get there. I'm gonna need it."

"You got it hun. It's why I call you my sammich. See ya soon!"

"See ya."

Sam packed an overnight bag just in case she decided to stay the night with Genie in her apartment. She left a note for her mom saying where she was and why she left, briefly, reassuring her she would explain everything when she got home.

The drive felt like forever, alone in her car with nothing but her thoughts to run amock in her head causing her to nearly hyperventilate a few times. When she finally got to the apartment, Genie dropped everything and ran to the door and gave her a hug. God knew she needed one.

"Girl what the hell happened?! You look like you just saw a ghost."

"You can kinda say that."

"Explain." That one word, with Genie looking at her that way, like she could see the real story written behind you so if you tried to lie she would rip your head off.

"Tony's in town. He called and left a message on my phone saying he wants to meet up for lunch....and that he missed me."

"He WHAT!? That two-timing, low life, dickwad, rat eating, lying sack of shit!! Who does he think he is calling you after what he did to you?!"

"Genie, Genie GENIE!"

"WHAT!?"

"Calm down. I haven't called him, but God knows I wanted to. I called you right after he left the message. Genie I'm scared. I don't want to see him. I don't want to hear from him. I just want to be left alone. I want to be happy, I want to stay happy. I haven't had an episode for a year and now I have one last night and then he calls. What am I supposed to do?"

"I'm going to tell you what you're going to do. You're going to stay with me until the weekend. It's only two days away. I'll get through classes and we'll head back down together. I'll stay with you and we'll do everything together, just like old times. No thinking about Tony and what happened. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Perfect. Now that you're back to being yourself, at least for now, go get cleaned up and lets go to the beach. There's something I want to show you."

About an hour later, after they were both full and ready to go, they headed out the beach where Genie took Sam to a secluded part a little off shore and showed her this little cove. There were markings, drawings, paintings, everywhere all over the walls and plants and roots. Every space was filled up, except for one little spot to the right of the entrance where a lotus flower was about to bloom. Genie got out a little carving knife and some paint, carved into the rock G&S BFF. She watched Sam the entire time she did it, wanting to remember every detail, every emotion that crossed her best friends face as she made the last bonding step of their relationship. Genie had always held back a little part of herself from Sam for a long time. She loved her friend immensely, but she had trust issues. She knew she could trust Sam, but she never knew how much until today. The fact that Sam had called her, out of all the other friends she could have called, meant the world to her. It meant that Sam really was her best friend forever. I mean, c'mon, they've known each other for almost sixteen years now.

Genie led Sam out of the cove, holding her hand the entire time. When they reached the mouth of the cove, the sky outside had gone from blue to pink with dusk. They stood there, watching the sky and Sam let herself cry as she breathed in the salty air. She clung to Genie as if she would never see her again.

They both understood. No words needed to be spoken. Even though they didn't see each other every day like they used to. Even though they both had made new friends and new social circles. Even though they were both leading different, but similar lives, didn't make their bond any weaker. If anything, it made it stronger. Sam understood what Genie had done today. Genie understood what Sam needed all along. They had a history like none other. Like the saying goes Some things come and go, but some things remain forever.

Tell Me What You Really Feel

It all happened so quickly, Hayley didn't know what to do. Brian came through the door, like any other day, but there was something different, she could just feel it. There was a change in the air, a shadow behind his smile, a guilty glimmer behind his eyes; it scared , but it worried her more. There was something he didn't know about her; something she kept a secret. Something only her deepest, darkest friends lingering in the bottomless abyss that is her self only knew.

She loved him, more than anything this life of hers could offer. He loved her too, but it wasn't the same. It could never be the same. She wasn't in his mind, in his conscience to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling; towards her or any other girl for that matter, and it tore her apart.

He walked to her room after she greeted him at the door. They were going to spend the day together, relax and have fun. But after this, after that sudden fear, she didn't think she could have fun. Right before he opened his mouth, she knew what was coming. She could already see it fast forwarding and playing in her head. She didn't have to wait long to see her mind's video tape play into reality.

"There's something I have to tell you" he said.

Gulp. She was so scared! She could feel her body trembling, but it wouldn't show from the outside. "What?" she asked, not showing her fear at all.

"Theres this girl...and...we're kind of dating" he remarked.

There it was. Her worst fears come true. The man she was in love with, the man that held her heart in his hands, found someone else to hand his heart over to. This man, that meant everything to her, now would never be hers. Go figure it was her luck to find the person that was perfect for her, her one in a million match, and she would lose him to some complete stranger because men never saw her as anything more than a friend.

She just stood there, blankly staring at him, for she didn't know what to say, how to respond, to something so shattering.

He waited patiently and quietly until he couldn't wait any longer and said, "Hayley, say something."

"What do you want me to say, Brian?" she said with a sigh. "Do you want me to say I'm happy for you, that I'm glad you found someone who is so amazing you want to claim her as yours? I'm sorry, but right now, I can't say that. I can't lie to you because I respect you too much, and because I love you. But, you already know that. You've known that since day one and nothing is different. I can't help it if I love you. I told you the other day, that you were perfect for me, and you've known all the while just how crazy I am about you. So no, I won't say I'm happy for you, when you just tore out my heart from my chest, lit it on fire and then fed it to the dogs for dinner."

Now it was Brian's turn to stare back blankly. He just stood there, completely dumbstruck. Hayley was his best friend, and yes, he knew that she was crazy about him. They had even talked about this before. When they first became friends, he had told her that it wasn't time yet, that he needed to heal from his last breakup and sever the ties from that heartache. They had grown to be very close, and they would always have a great time together; it was just how things were. He couldn't live without her and he knew it. There was no one else like her. And then it him...like a block of ice thrown on his head from five stories up; he just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Hayley wasn't just anyone. She was his best friend. The one person he could always go to, for anything and she would always be there. She would be his partner in crime, or his sturdy rock. Whatever the situation called for. And now...now he just told her that he found someone better than her. Someone he wanted to hold, and kiss, and touch, and spend time with. He froze. The look on his face was so pain ridden that he couldn't breathe.

So this is what Hayley must have felt every single time that he talked about some girl and how they would make a day to hang out or meet and get to know each other. She never told him about things like that, because there was no one. Yes, she would talk about the guys from her high school, but they were her friends. They were the once's that helped her through that hell hole. But any recent guy...he heard no such thing. This is what she felt. A clenching, gut wrenching feeling where you couldn't breathe or see straight.

Brian turned in the direction that Hayley had gone off in in the house, and made a run for it. He couldn't let her go; he just couldn't. It was a small house, but every step felt like she was running in a long hallway that wouldn't end and with each step, he realized that he was in love with her. He loved her yes, but what he denied to tell himself every day was that he was in love with her as well. If he didn't fix things now, he would surely lose her for good.

He made it to the garage, and out the back door to the back yard....

...to be continued

Fireflies

Julie stared at her phone waiting for him to call. She knew it was a stupid thing to do, to wait. He would call when he got home. She knew it. But she couldn't help but stare anyways. As she was staring, she saw stars. No not movie stars, but balls of light far away in the galaxy stars.

Her mind wandered as she saw these stars. Julie was in bed while all this happened. She fell into a daze and later found herself in her backyard on her trampoline staring out into the night sky, under the stars that started this whole thing.

2 years had passed since things changed drastically. 2 years ago, Julie was still a baby, still this naive little girl who didn't know anything about what was going on in the world around her. But all that changed. Her little daze took her on a journey down memory lane. Good, bad, happy, sad, angry, crazy, normal, every memory that has made its home in the back of her mind came into play that day. All the friends she had made, the one's that stayed, the one's that said goodbye, the stupid things she had done, the smart things she had done; each and every single memory brought tears to her eyes.

There was one big tug of war going on inside her heart. It was the battle that would not let her rest for these past couple months now. Julie missed her best friend. They had a sort of falling out and she didn't like it, but there was nothing that she could really do. For the past two years they would spend every waking moment together. They had gone through a lot together even though they didn't always see eye to eye. And then she met the one person who would change it all. This is where it got complicated.

Julie loved the new person in her life. They were the perfect pair. Always on the same wavelength, always eye to eye, always laughing, always joking. She couldn't have been happier. She would be the happiest person if both these people, that she loved oh so dearly, could stand the other. But that was wishful thinking. Her soul mate, twin, partner in crime, whatever you wanted to call "him" and her best friend before him would never be happy in the same room for any length of time. They were completely different people, but she got along with them both just fine. She was lying to herself when she said this because she knew she got along with him way better than with her.

He was perfect in every way. She knew of his flaws and every negative aspect that everyone around her would fling in her face but she didn't care. She could never care, so long as he was in her life. They were the perfect pair. No matter what anyone said it didn't matter. She knew him better than anyone, inside and out. No matter how many times he told her her loved her, or that he wasn't going anywhere, she couldn't help but think that things were too good to be true. She couldn't help but think that this was all a dream, a sick game someone was playing to mess with her feelings and that he would be gone the next day.

"She" was Julie's best friend. Forever and always. Or so they both thought. They both made mistakes and lost the other. They still talked, still laughed, still loved one another but things weren't the same.

Julie woke up to find herself under the stars, outside, late at night. It was only evening when this all began but it felt like much longer. She looked around her, took a deep breathe and relaxed. Julie knew that it was finally time to come to terms with what had happened in her life, and the turn her life had taken. There were so many pro's and con's for both sides, but the pro's for being with him outweighed any cons she had for anything else.

Julie took one last look at the stars before she went back into the house. She looked up at the light bulbs in the sky that became her friends. They gave her strength, they gave her guidance and they gave her peace of mind, and heart. They were her fireflies.

"I'd like to make myself believe. That planet Earth turns, slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep. 'Cause everything is never as it seems. When I fall asleep."

Dear Diary...

He is the arrow that pierces my heart and guides me home.

He is the star in my night sky that shines down on me and lights up surroundings.

He is the perfect shade of whatever color I need in my crayon box.

He is the song that makes me cry and sing and laugh all at the same time.

He is the beat of every tick of the time hand on my wrist.

He is the imperial ship at sea that weighs anchor to help the lost sailboat that is me.

He is the outfit that makes me look great when he looks at me with longing and love in his eyes.

He is the unshed tears that fail to fall when the perfect words are spoken.

The hands of time can not stop this great thing we hold dear. I will not dare speak what this thing is for if I do, the secret will be not ours. It is ours to keep, ours to think upon, ours to laugh about, ours to hold, ours to cherish. We both have questions that need answers. We both have fears that we can not seem to let go, yet. But I know, together, we can make it through every obstacle, every peril, every hardship, every bump, that life throws our way.

This is for you. And this is for me. This is for us. And this...this is what it means to truly be, in love.

Good Band...Wrong Venue

It’s Saturday night at the Wiltern. I’m standing up front, all the way in the front, at the point where I can extend my hand and touch the speakers on the stage floor, I hear nothing but bass and subwoofers and drums. I feel my entire body shaking. It says something about the acoustics of the place. Walk to the back, go outside into the lobby or go upstairs to the balcony, and I can actually hear the words.

It’s getting closer to 9p.m. The venue is slowly starting to fill up. Give it another ten minutes and the opening band enters, takes center stage and starts rocking out.

Scotty Don’t is the non-tribute band that tours with Badfish, the band dedicated to performing nothing but Sublime songs. The band, Scotty Don’t, includes members of Badfish, so it’s kind of like their alter ego.

The band plays about four songs, and the lights go back on. The people start to fidget for a bit then walk back toward the doors, away from the stage, to get more drinks, possible bathrooms breaks and to mingle. About twenty minutes later, the band that everyone is here to see is on stage. The lights go back down and the show begins.

The songs were cool: great rhythm, good beat, good sound. However, the venue they chose to play at didn’t quite fit with their music and style. The Wiltern is a great place, but to be honest, Badfish could have had a livelier crowd and the feel of the show would have been much better if they performed at the Avalon.

Every venue has a certain, how shall we say, sense, to it. The Wiltern is probably better suited for bands like Switchfoot and Shinedown.Bands that are a little more widespread and better known that attract more audiences and fill the entire place up. Avalon is more for those bands who have either passed the Roxy stage and made themselves known, even if it isn’t that well known, or are for those bands like Badfish, who are known for the tribute they pay to a certain band.

All in all, the show was mediocre. It would have been much better with more people, who were actually interactive and moved around and showed their enthusiasm for being there, instead of just standing there bobbing their heads like those bobble-head toys.

The music was good, I must admit that. It had a little modern rock with a hint of reggae to it, which sounded interesting and catchy. If there’s anything that you can learn from this, it’s that even though you may be going to see a band you like perform, if the venue isn’t right for them and the crowd isn’t how it should be, then you’re not going to have that great a time.

Tell me...Who are you?

Emily woke up for the fourth time this week in the middle of the night with the same nightmare haunting her dreams. No matter what she tried to do, the horrible scenes would not leave her at peace and would wake her with the worst sense of dread and the feeling of nothingness. Her eyes would snap open, her heart beat would be at an exceedingly high rate, her breathing heavy and ragged and her mind spinning restlessly into oblivion.

Her recurring dream, to use the word loosely, would start off as a regular dream would; well, at least how a normal happy dream would start off. In her mind the scene would open with herself sitting outside on a warm spring day, under the warm sky with nothing but the smell of fresh mowed grass, the sound of the river trickling by hidden somewhere behind the brush and the sound of the light breeze whistling through the giant oak she sat under. In her hand would be a book, always changing each night for she was an avid reader and she always had her hands on something different. Emily would read on for a bit and then would look up from her entrapment in the story for she would hear an all too familiar sound that always warmed her heart. Without needing to look too far ahead or in the accurate location, she would know that it was her best friend in the entire world, the boy that would always be there for her; Dylan.

Dylan would walk through the arrangement of trees and bushes in the park that she always occupied. He would walk towards her with the gait of a man who knows who he is and where he is going with his life, the aura of someone with great power that if unleashed could bring down even the strongest of men, the appearance of magnificent masculine beauty and perfection, and the heart of the purest soul ever to walk the Earth. He was her saving grace, her one solid rock and place in this world. Without him, she would have nothing to hold on to. They were not what people would call a 'couple'. No, they were so much more than that. What they shared, their deep connection to one another that surpassed any and all levels or recognition was beyond what anyone could ever dream of acquiring with a special someone. It was the best feeling in the world, for both of them.

He walked up to her, as she was sitting under her oak tree, stood in front of her casting his shadow unto her and creating a painting behind her and just stared at her. She looked up at him after a while for he had not uttered a single word to her yet. She found this odd because he would always have something to say to her and she felt slightly self conscious for he was pure beauty and she mediocre and he was just staring at her. When Emily looked up to see Dylan's face she knew immediately that something was not right. His face, the strain of his lips from frowning, his eyebrows slightly indented so as to try not to look like he's holding his tongue back from something, told her that something was seriously wrong. Her stomach did a few cartwheels, jumped through a couple rings of fire and then plunged deep into the abyss that was her fear and paranoia. Before she could utter a word, Dylan spoke up and what he said to her stopped the frantic beating of her heart for three seconds.

"Who are you?" he uttered.

Emily couldn't speak. She was too dumbstruck to put together a single word. All she could do was stare, gape and sputter sounds. Finally, after a long period of verbal nonsense, she answered back with "Excuse me?"

"I said, Who are you? I don't know why I'm here, under this oak tree, in this park, standing in front ofyou."

"And what exactly is wrong with me?"

"I don't know. Am I supposed to know you or something? Are you my girlfriend?"

"Yes, you're supposed to know me. And no, I'm not your girlfriend. I am so much more than that."

"Am I married? Are you my wife? I'm too young to be married. I don't have a kid with you do I?"

Emily wanted to slap him! She couldn't tell if he was pulling her leg just to mess with her a d play a sick game of twenty questions to gleam information from her or if this was really real. She refrained, although it was really hard to keep her temper in check but she reigned it in; for now and answered with a calm she didn't feel. "No, you're not married. No, I'm not your wife. And no, you don't have a kid with me! Dylan, what's going on? Why are you acting this way?"

"How do you know my name? Honestly, who are you?"

"You're kidding right?! I know you because you're my best friend, and I yours. We're each other's confidant. The one and only go-to person that knows everything about the other. What's gotten into you?"

"Okay seriously, you're starting to creep me out. Why are you talking to me like were all buddy buddy?"

Oh my gosh!!! He was seriously lacking in brains right now. Her anger was mounting, and it was her only vice to keep her fear from rising and eating her alive. "Have you not heard a single thing I've said?"

Dylan looked at her at that comment, really looked at her like he was trying to see behind her eyes and into her soul. Emily felt like she was finally getting somewhere for she knew that look. Knew it very well. But her hoped were crushed all too soon. He gave her one last, long penetrating stare and then said "Ya, you're definitely not someone I could see myself being friend with" and walked away.

That was the lowest blow that Emily had ever received from anyone in her entire lifetime. With one sentence, Dylan had ripped out her heart, stomped on it, lit it on fire, threw it to the dogs to chew on and walked away like he didn't have a care in the world. On tear fell down her cheek, and that tear was all she needed to let outwardly show her despair and pain, while inside, inside she died the minute that tear fell. She was no one. She was nothing. The world around her was a lie. She could feel the safety of her oak tree receding, the song of the wind in the leaves turning into chaos and noise and everything around her turning to ash. She could see and feel the world dying around her, turning gray, then black. Once the world turned black, she would wake up to find herself staring at her ceiling, breathing heavy, heart sputtering like the wings of a hummingbird, tears flowing out the sides of her eyes and onto her pillow as she clutched her sheets to keep from screaming and to somehow alleviate the pain.

Seven nights. She was being tortured for seven nights now and she didn't have a single clue as to why. Emily knew she had to do something. During the daylight hours, here in the real world, she would see Dylan everyday and it would be like every other day. Dylan knew who she was and what they shared. In the real world, he was her Dylan. Her best friend. The boy that she meant those few months ago. He wasn't the dream Dylan, the one who killed her. So she knew it was all a dream, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was a sign to something else. It had occurred for the past seven nights in a row without a single detail missing or out of place. Emily just couldn't help but wonder.

As she sat there in her bed, tears running down her face coating her pillow in sorrow and fear, clutching the sheets like a passenger lost at see holding onto a life preserver to stay afloat, staring at the dark ceiling, Emily realized what she needed to do. She got up and out of bed, wiped her face and went to her desk. She sat down, got out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down the one thing that she would always keep to remind herself that she didn't need someone else to know who she was in order for her to live on. So long as she knew who and what she was, she would never die. Her pen hit the paper and she wrote this poem that would live on forever:

I am a friend

I am an old soul

I am a stubborn mule

I am my father's daughter

I am my mother's flesh and blood

I am someone's wonder

I am what most called weird

I am what some find intriguing

I am my wolf's leader

I am a girl with hidden interests

I am an artist

I am a musician

I am a writer

I am a reader

I am a woman with a strong heart

I am a girl with a free spirit

I am courageous

I am cautious, at times

I am adventurous

I am unorganized

I am the one who you call when something is wrong

I am the one who listens when no one else will

I am one of a kind

I am not a word

I am not a thing

I am me

I am Emily

The next night, and the night after that, and the night after that, and for the rest of her nights, Emily slept in peace; from her mind, from her fears.