Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Monday, April 13, 2009

Points Of Authority

I
Points of Authority

A full moon shined brightly over the city, leaving tiny spots of darkness for the stars to inhabit. The grass outside the penthouse was wet with a slight dew forming. Everything was at ease and peaceful. Even the animals were quiet; waiting for something to end. For something good to happen. Each little animal stood where they were, waiting. No one knew for what, but it was for something. A coyote did not dare howl it's cry over the cliffs at the moon, in fear of disrupting anything that could be happening.
The night was still beautiful. It was cloudless and cool, silent and dark. The only disruption was the destruction of a penthouse, not far from where the coyote restrained his howl. The wind flowed through the trees causing a soft whistling noise -- comforting to the outside animals and insomniacs who were roaming the streets of Moscow.
The penthouse was near Red Square, causing people to see bright flashes and hear dull bangs from inside the top story, but could not piece together that something more than a light show was occurring. It was a fight of bullets and steel, skin against blade, and right over wrong.
“Jesus!” A tall man dove behind a couch, follow by his comrade, to reload his gun. It gave her a chance to catch her breath. The man fired off a few blind rounds, checking his friend for injuries or anything fatal. “Are you okay?” he asked frantically.
“Yes, yes. I'm fine, thank you.” was her out of breath response. She was cut and scratched, but she could not do anything about it, which was why her friend was so concerned.
The wounds he had acquired were gone in a mere few seconds, but hers would be kept until they healed on their own. Her sword holder still remained at her hip, right where she had securely fastened it before the whole thing started. With her swords drawn, she got up and attacked a rather large man, who was in the middle of reloading his G36 Assault Rifle, bringing him to the ground.
A hail of bullets came from behind, not coming from her partner's AK-74M Assault Rifle, but from an MK23, directly behind her. He was going through his magazine quickly, and she knew that he was as well. The man under the girl tossed her aside and pointed the gun at her head, taking aim. He did not get the chance to fire before one of her engraved swords buried itself deep within his body, cutting through the flesh and muscle like butter.
The heavy man fell onto her sword, deepening the wound and the weight level greatly increased. She could not hold him up. The skilled girl dropped him to the side and stayed behind his stiff body, not looking into his open, rage-instilled eyes. She looked towards the kitchen area to find where the other assassin would be hiding. The coward hid behind the sturdy counters.
The girl dove behind an overturned sofa and waited. She sat still, giving the impression she had been hit, killing her. She was far from dead. The large man approached the sofa with care, and she waited. Only when he was a few inches from the back of the sofa, did she thrust the sword through the sofa and into his gut. The springs had done some damage to her steel, but she gave it no thought.
Two were dead, but several more were to join the party. She moved from the overturned piece of furniture to a more secure area, behind the bar. She waited for her comrade to join her while cleaning her sword with her shirt. Her wounds were shallow, but the steel was cut badly from the springs of the couch. A spray of bullets hit the bar and a bottle of alcohol above her, sending glass and liquids flying.
White hair appeared beside her in a blur as her friend dove down next to her, healing himself from a painful bullet wound. “We need backup, Rina!” he shouted over the gunfire.
“No! No backup! We can do this ourselves!” she shouted in response.
“Rina, I'm calling it in!” The man pulled out a black cell phone, dialing a short number he had memorized.
The woman grabbed the phone from him and kept it. “No backup.” she said sternly.

* * *
Across town, in another hotel room not nearly as nice as the one being destroyed, sat a boy on his bed, admiring himself in a mirror. He got tired of looking at his flawless skin and decided to concentrate on something more impressive than himself for once, although he would never admit it. The town really was beautiful.
As he looked out the window, he realized that he really was on his own. His parents weren't with him, and neither was his brother. He didn't care about them anyway. The only important thing was how he looked. He stared partially at his dim reflection in the window, and partially outside into the dark night, watching it rain softly.
“So what is a beautiful boy like me supposed to do, all couped up and bored in Mulweed?” he asked himself, obviously knowing that was not the name of the city he was in. “No, not Mulweed, Mooo... Muu.. Screw it.”
He lied back on his bed, hand resting behind his head, thinking of what to do at nine o'clock at night in the strange city of which he has no knowledge. Maybe he could search the city for a beautiful Russian female, and pretend he was lost and needed a place to stay. The thought brought a grin to his face, but even he knew that a pretty boy like himself would not do so well with an older woman.
Even in Russia, he was well known. The famous Joseph O'Reily could not be mistaken for anyone but himself. A beautiful, very pale, very fit, young model. He knew girls would be crawling all over him if he even stepped one foot outside while he was in Russia. These photoshoots took him everywhere. He smiled a bit to himself and sat up, realizing how nice he truly looked in new designer clothes, and how flawless his skin looked without acne.
The boy got off of his bed to take off his shirt and practice his runway walk. His signature walk down the runway that made him so famous with all the women and modeling agencies. It was all he could do while couped up in his room at night. He was confident he had it perfected because he practiced every night that he was trapped in his room. He decided that he hadn't lifted anything heavy in a while, and it was time to get the weights out.
“I can't let these babies get rusty or flabby on me. It will be the end of my amazing career if I do.” he said to himself, lifting two weights from his suitcase.
The weights were twenty pounds each, not much for a fit teen like him. He lifted them to his sides, up and down, muscles ripping each time he rose his arms. The workout wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his muscles working and burning with every lift. He could feel the lactic acid build up in his arms, but he never minded it.
Right before he was about to stop, a light knock came from the door, with a soft voice saying, “Room service.”
“Jeeze, about time.” Joseph mumbled to himself, setting the weights on his bed.
The boy opened the door in his jeans, leaving his shirt on the chair where he left it. The female gave him his dinner plate, smiling as she looked at his glistening chest.
“Would you like anything else?” she asked.
“Yeah, I would like to know when you get off from work.”
“I bet you would.” she said, turning and walking away with a smile on her face.
“I guess even the beautiful people like me have nights with nothing to do.”

* * *
“Daneil...” came a female voice from just outside a cracked door.
“Yes?” he answered, not looking up from his paperwork.
“We have some files for you to examine. May we enter your office?” the female asked, opening the door all the way.
“We?” The man looked up from what he was doing, and saw a female and two males standing in the doorway, waiting for permission. “Oh, Sasha. Yes, of course you may come in.”
“Thank you.” Her heavy Russian accent made it hard for her to speak in English, but it was better for Daneil to speak it, even though he had perfected the Russian.
“So,” he began, laying down his pencil perfectly parallel to the edge of his paper. “What is it that you need to show me?”
“These files have been updated every day since Deron has come to power on the other side.” The woman pulled out a manila folder thick with information on one man. “We have reason to believe that he has grown considerably stronger in these past few months.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What I mean is,” she adjusted her glasses and continued, “Deron's capability to control what he has gained over the past few hundred years has gotten better. The abilities that he posses, the rare ones, are easier for him to control now.”
“How do you know this?” Daneil asked in a very monotonous tone of voice.
“We have our sources. His abilities are on the rise, Daneil. He needs to be stopped now before he destroys all of Europe, just as the others have warned you. It's the whole reason why-”
Daneil raised his hand to signal that she was done talking. “Sasha, please do not tell me why this agency is still operating. I was alive when they built it, under my command.”
“Yes, I am very sorry.” The woman got up, ran her hands across the black fabric covering her legs, and left the folder with Daneil. “We will need it back in research soon, but I want you to look at the new files we have acquired.”
“Yes, of course.”
The woman bowed her head slightly, and curtsied, giving her respects to the older man. She backed up a few steps before turning around and leaving the room with her two male escorts. Daneil took the folder in his hands and began to open it. He let a heavy sigh escape from his mouth as he turned each paper, to read what they had to say. Nothing really caught his attention until a sheet of yellow paper appeared, with an image and line of text.
He sat forward in his seat, leaning over his desk and the piece of paper, reading it very carefully. What was in the text could not be true, and neither could the photo. It had to be. Nothing in the text supported the facts very well, but he still took a precaution, and tucked it safely into his desk drawer. The man closed the folder and put it into his “outgoing” tray, immediately being noticed by his quiet secretary.
“To the lady in Research?” she asked.
“Yes, Sasha. Thank you.”
The woman did the same as Sasha, giving a slight bow of the head and a curtsy, before stepping backwards then turning her back to leave. The woman forgot to close the door again. He payed no attention to it, and let it close on itself.

* * *
Shards of wood still rained over the duo as bullets penetrated the bar, moving deeper and deeper into the interior. It would not hold up for long unless they moved.
“Luke! We have to move!” the woman shouted.
“No! You'll get shot!” he replied, ducking from a thick piece of wood as it broke off from the bar.
“I'll be fine! Now take care of the guys to your left!” she said, turning to get up.
Luke grabbed her arm and kept her there a moment. When she turned to her, he held out a Beretta 92 in the palm of his hand. “Please, take it! You'll need it!”
The girl could only smile at his efforts. “No, you know I don't touch them unless I need to.”
“You need to!”
“No, I don't.” she said with a reassuring smile as he put the gun back into its holster.
The girl's movements were swift, moving from the bar and into the open room. Two shots came from the familiar Assault Rifle belonging to her friend, killing two men with a clean shot to the chest. With the men on her left taken care of, she could focus on the two to her right, the only two left.
She ran at the biggest of the two and grabbed his arms, using him as a shield. He took two bullets to the back, his eyes bulging and breathing becoming burdened. The sword she carried went through the man and out his back, dripping crimson blood onto the floor before the only thug left. His expression was a cross between fear and anger, when he realized that he was the only one left and Yekatrina had killed all of his friends.
She took her sword from the big man's body and stood before the last thug, waiting to see what he would do. He raised his gun and fired, but the sword came up too fast for the bullet. It hit the sword before it hit her, and went directly into the last man's body. He dropped to the ground once the sword was no longer there to support his weight.
“Luke! Let's get out of here! More will show up!” she commanded.
“Right.. Yes, I am coming!” he said, a thick Scottish accent very clear in his voice.
The two ran out of the destroyed flat with dead bodies still lying on the floor. They jumped over debris and bodies as they made their escape, careful not to leave anything behind for the next group of attackers. As they ran down the halls, everyone was frozen. Luke and Yekatrina swerved in and out of the civilians, careful not to disrupt them. It would cause confusion and wonder when everything turned out alright after they left.
As soon as the two were safely outside in the cold Russian winter, life in the hotel resumed it's order. The clean-up crew for KAD was already in the room, doing their job. Their coats were waiting for them, undisturbed with a light blanket of snow covering them. The white coat belonged to the woman, and the black coat belonged to the man.
Yekatrina's sword was safely in its holster on her leg, concealed to civilian eyes. Luke's gun was safely hidden as well. They were careful not to get caught with these weapons, even though the regular Moscow police force could not do anything to them. They concealed them from the cold, and from the civilians. Just in case, and not to raise any panic among any of them.
Luke's snow white hair contrasted sharply against his black coat, and Yekatrina's jet black hair contrasted sharply against her white coat, but each was doing its job to keep them warm. With hands in their pockets and mouths in their collars, not much was said.
“I told you we didn't need backup.” the woman said, looking straight ahead. She was still in a bit of pain from her minor wounds.
“Yes, but I think it would have been a good idea. That way you wouldn't have gotten banged up and sore.”
“Yes, but what's a mission without a few scrapes and cuts?” she asked with a warm smile behind her collar.
“Well, I still hate it when you get hurt, you know that. We've known each other too long to just blow off stuff like that.”
“Well, how many times did you get shot, Luke?”
“That's not the point.” Luke said matter-o-factly. “I can heal myself.. You know that.”
“Yes, but still. You need to be more careful, especially if you can still feel the pain of each gunshot.” Yekatrina pointed out.
“Rina, you're not my mother.”
“I sure have to act like it sometimes.”
Luke gave a small laugh, and kept walking in the direction of their headquarters, glad they brought heavy coats for each to wear.
“I swear these winters are getting colder and colder.” he announced, half way to their destination.
“Yes, it seems that they are.” Yekatrina replied.
As the two walked side by side, their boots left imprints in the snow behind them, and a trail back to the hotel. Gradually the falling snow would cover them up, but the man liked to look behind him every few minutes to see his own footsteps next to his friend's. The snow did not only cling to their coats and the ground, but it clung to their hair and faces.
The white snow matched their pale complexions, but melted with the contact to their warm skin. The two walked to their headquarters, both quite content on how the mission resulted, and both speaking of the task.
“Who do you suppose they were?” Yekatrina asked.
“I'd think men of Deron's. But why would he send mortals?”
“Got me.” Yekatrina said with a shrug from inside her coat.
“Or maybe it wasn't Deron. You never know anymore with all the copy-cats and other vampires sent out to tear down the KAD agency.” Luke said.
“Yes, yes I know that, but I don't think that's it. I think there's more to it than just copy-cats and angry vampires.”
The two agents walked up the marble steps to the agency and entered the building. They were immediately greeted by the sound of rushing water, heat, and the quiet bustling of men and women around the fountain nearby. They were eating or working, but none were just wasting time. They were all serious about their work.
As the two well known agents walked in, men and women looked up, giving a bow of the head to them if sitting, or a small curtsy or bow if they stood. The two agents nodded back to several, but not to all.. The pair took off their coats, slung them over their arms and kept walking, making their way to an elevator.
As the steel doors opened, the two entered the small room and pressed the top floor button. They had to go to their office and see Daneil before heading home to rest. Being in the elevator gave Yekatrina time to examine all her injuries and look at the shirt that Luke was wearing. It was a bit tattered, but the man liked his clothes to have the “worn out” look to them, so he would keep wearing it.
“So, I assume you're going to never throw that shirt out?” she asked.
“Of course not! You know me, Rina.” Luke responded with a smile and a wink as the doors opened.
The two stepped out into the large office space, walking directly to Daneil's office, coats still in hand. They then passed their off to two assistants, to be placed in their own office where they would wait for them. Before knocking, the two paused slightly, but then gave a slight rap on the glass to make their presence known.
“Yes?” came the familiar voice of the head agent.
“Daneil, it is Luke and Yekatrina. May we come in?” Yekatrina asked as a precaution.
“Yes, yes. Of course you may.”
The two entered the room and stood before the desk, waiting for someone to speak. Daneil nodded to the chairs to the side of each of them, offering them a seat. They both took it immediately, so as not to offend him. They had learned from past experiences.
“How did it go?” Daneil asked, folding his hands above his desk.
“Smoothly. It took a but longer than we had anticipated, but it got over with.” Luke replied with a serious face.
“Good. Any major damage, Yekatrina?”
“Nothing major, sir. Just a few scratches and cuts. I should be fine, thank you.” was her response.
“You might want to get rid of that shirt. It looks a little blood-ridden.” Yekatrina nodded in response. “How is your sword? Any damage?”
“Actually, yes. I need it be mended as soon as possible.” Yekatrina drew her sword from her leg holster, showing the damage that had been done to the blade by the metal springs in the couch. “Sometimes I wonder how you end up killing some of these people.” Daneil said, taking the sword in his hands and examining it.
“As do the people that mend it, most likely.”
“Well, we will send it to Japan. In the mean time, you will have to use your backup sword. It shouldn't be more than two or three days.” Daneil said, taking the holster from Yekatrina as she handed it over to him.
“Thank you, sir.” she responded.
“We have some new information on Deron, I'm afraid.”
“Why are you afraid?” Luke asked, elbow resting on the armrest, with a finger on his chin. “Well, it concerns one of our own with suspicion of treason.” Daneil explained.
“Who?” Yekatrina asked.
“Derick. I have information in my desk as to his reasons. They are of greed and the usual. He's knows too much to be let over to Deron's side.”
“Yes, but he doesn't know that much.” Luke said.
“That may be true, but he knows enough about the layout to give Deron an advance on us. We can't risk anything. He needs to be taken care of.”
“No. You cannot ask me to do that. I'm sorry Daneil, but that's something I cannot do. He's my friend.” Yekatrina said, holding her hand up.
“Yes, I realize this, but something needs to be done about this situation, Yekatrina!” Daniel said.
“And I realize that, but what if it is something that is not true? The document could as well be forged and completely false! You know this as well as I do!” the girl argued.
“Do not speak to me like that! I brought you into this agency, and I can as well take you out of it with just the same ease.” Daneil said, getting upset.
“I'm sorry, sir.. But that is how I feel.” Yekatrina said with more caution.
“I know it is, and you are right on some level. We should not dispose of him yet, but we must keep an eye on him, alright?” The two nodded in response.
“You two should go and get your rest. Tomorrow is another day.”
The two rose from their seats, bowing their heads slightly. Yekatrina curtsied and Luke bowed slightly. They took a few steps back and then exited the room, closing the door behind themselves. The two walked to their separate offices to get their coats and leave for the night.
The two occupied the same elevator again and walked out together, turning in opposite directions to go home. Yekatrina buried her mouth and nose in her collar of her coat once again, walking with her hands in her pockets. It would be another cold night in Moscow.

* * *
One thought ran through a blond girl's mind as she sat on a bench in the middle of Red Square, doing nothing but staring at the ground. Her family was supposed to care and be with her. Of course not. With a drunken father and a mother that didn't care, she was surprised they even gave her a decent amount of money to live off of for two months.
A bruise was gradually getting less and less noticeable on her arm, and it didn't hurt anymore. It was just there at that point, occupying space on her arm. As the blond girl thought, she still maintained a somewhat cool attitude, trying to see the brighter side of things. Even if there wasn't one.
'I'm sure there are plenty of cute men in Russia. I mean, I know enough Russian to get by, and maybe meet some new people. This can't be that bad. Maybe a blessing in disguise.' she thought to herself, not wanting to actually verbalize it.
Her eyes were fixed on one stone in the ground, watching the snow build up on it, burying it beneath its white color and soft weight. She reached her leg out, and stomped on the stone to make an imprint of the bottom of her shoe, satisfied with the result of a perfect mold.
The young girl looked up in time to see a dark woman walk across Red Square, holding her head high and proud. Her coat was very white, but something else about her was dark. The girl couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew that it was something she wanted to figure out. This was someone she wanted to meet. She watched the woman cross the square, wondering about her career, and what she did to make her stay out this late. The young girl would have approached her if she was brave enough, but instead she kicked the snow at her feet and stood up, ready to go back to her hotel room.
“Well, looks like I'll never know.”
The teenage girl rose to her feet and looked at the woman that gradually got smaller as she walked further and further away, contemplating to follow her. She knew it wasn't a wise decision, so she decided against it. She knew there was more than meets the eye about this woman, but she didn't know what it was. Maybe she was a spy for Russia, or even a killer. For all the blond haired girl knew, that dark woman didn't even have to be real.
She just hoped they would run into each other soon.

* * *

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Run


Originally uploaded by ShatteredMartialArtist
People need to get away. Run away, never come back.
Don't look back...
(They're watching you.) Close, closer...
On your back. Get off, get off.
God, shake it, shaken times.
Run as fast as you can. Outrun them.
Fast, go faster, make it. You can't.
(They're gaining on you.) Oh no, no, no. This isn't true.
Run past the house. Past the fence. Past the dog.
Over the bridge. Through the glass.
Tell me, what were you planning.
Is this what you really want. Circle the drain. Throw it away.
Run, you fool.
(No, give up.)
Energy is low. Can't go on.
No.
(Yes.)
Hurry now, hurry.
Come on slowpoke, faster.
Breathing heavy. Chest on fire. Legs giving out.
Wind... Cold. Feel it.
Through the hair. Grass under the feet.
Pound the ground. Keep going.
(You're never going to make it. They're faster)
Go. Now. Run. Fast.
Place faith in me. Listen.
Succeed. Keep going. Don't stop.
(No. Faith is not worth it. You're failing. You're done.)

Thursday, March 26, 2009

In Times of Hurt

"There are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman." - The Tale of Despereaux

Hearts break, and people fall. Of course, the one that has had their heart broken are the ones that fall so quickly. Maybe it's because of an attachment, or maybe it's just because of they way they looked when doing it. When a person says they're sorry, they usually show some sort of emotion, along the lines of sadness, regret... But when a person shows nothing... That's when it hurts the most.
And then they try to pass off their confusion and lack of sympathy as you trying to blame them. Even though you should, but you won't. They get defensive and tell you that you should not be telling them what they are and are not. But it's how you felt. They told you how they felt, so why can you not tell them your side? Yes it hurts, but everything hurts. If it was a day, a week, a month, a year... They all hurt.
And then... not knowing what to say... Hurts most of all. What do you do? Stay friends? Become enemies? Maybe neither. Your head tells you to hate them, but your heart tells you otherwise. So which do you listen to? Head, or heart? In times like these, in hurt times, it's hard to choose which one to listen to.
But you're tired of all this. You're tired of hurt, pain, loneliness, regret... You're tired of not sleeping, of the guilt, of the heartbreak.... And you don't want to deal with it anymore, but it's life and it's one of many things to go wrong. To not go according to plan. You've shed your tears, but at points in time, they come back.
So for the night, you will sit on the edge of your roof and ignore the phone that sits beside you, teetering back and fourth, wondering what would happen if you teetered just a little too far forward...

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Monday, March 16, 2009

Pull Me Along

You know, leading someone on is never good. Whether you tell them early on or late, it still sucks. For either person. Why would you want to do that anyway? It's not like it's fun. And if it is, then you've got something wrong. I mean, why would you want to do that? Pretend that you want someone, you want to have them, hold them, date them, whatever, then do a complete 360 and turn them around? It's not fair to them if they had no warning.
Why do people do this? Is it the fact that one person is so emotionally weak and looking for that one person to have and to hold, that they would do anything? Or is it the fact that you just find it fun to bet on the person you can make fall for you? These little things in life are the things that make us want to scream, but these things also make us become who we are. Sometimes a heartbreak is the thing that can kill you, or make you. Hopefully it makes you because if you die, you've lost a very important part of your life.
I could be just rambling at this stage, but when I type these things, I just let my fingers go and write down exactly what I'm thinking, and nothing less.
People are beings that... Find the simplest humor in torture of another. Emotionally, physically or mentally. Any way they can get you to squirm, they'll do it. They're the most sadistic. But a heart is something that should never, ever be played with. The heart is one thing that a person needs most. If a person cannot trust, they cannot love. And a life without love, is a life not worth living.
But with trust and love, there comes betrayal and heartbreak. With those two things, there comes inevitable sadness and anger. When things first play out for the worse, sadness is the first feeling to come. Usually, but not always. Sometimes the sadness isn't so bad, depending on the severity of the wound. But a lot of the time, anger controls you. And when anger controls a person, bad things may happen.
Wow, I got off topic...
In short, people are... basically... sadistic. They hurt and kill without knowing, but with pleasure. It's a horrible experience, but it's one that everyone goes through because we all have a heart. We all have emotions, whether or not we want to admit it. Being lead on sucks. Being pulled along on a string, helplessly...

Friday, March 13, 2009

Shot

A dog barked and ran. The soft thuds of each paw hitting the earth was muffled by the grass. The round, green and purple tennis ball flew out of the hand of a somewhat tall girl, laughing as she enjoyed the game of fetch.
The yard was big, but it was not hers. She didn't even know why she was there. She threw the ball hard. Over a hill and down the other side. The dog didn't even run after it. The girl ran to the ball, her brown hair back in a ponytail. She bent down to pick up the ball, her knees making a slightly sickening crack as she lowered herself.
Soft footsteps were heard behind her, startling her. She quickly turned around and saw three men, two friends and her significant other. All three were brothers, but only two by blood.
A smile started to snake its way across her face, but quickly faded once a gun with a silencer was raised. It was a MGC Ingram M11 Heavy Weight. A friend shot the ball from her hand, face showing no emotion. He raised it a little higher, and that's when she ran.
She ran through woods. The path was narrow and heavily wooded, she had to swerve, jump and move out of the way so she didn't fall. Tree branches hit her, cut her and slowed her down. Their roots came out of the ground in many parts, making her jump over them.
Four women blocked the path. An elderly grandmother, a mother and two daughters.
They're trying to kill me. There's something going on.
But they didn't giver her a second thought. Her lungs were on fire, her legs were weak, and she felt the blood that still ran warm in her veins, running through her system. They were all behind her, swift and silent.
She was sure to be finished until she saw a long, stone pathway, with grass on either side. The president at the very end of the pathway. Few people were there, but enough were. She fell before the president and stayed there.
He was so nice.
She looked back and there he was. Her lover, her romancer. He was being swift, cutting onto the grass. She lost it. The brown haired girl yelled, ran and attacked him, tackling him to the ground.
She hit him over, and over again, blue eyes filling with tears.
'How could you?! You're supposed to protect me!' She hit him again. 'You're supposed to love me!'
She rolled off of him and took his face in bother pale hands. 'We've known each other so long!'
He pinned her to the ground so she couldn't harm him anymore. He tried to calm her down as she cried. He picked her up and held her, sitting in a tree, holding her in his arms.
'When am I supposed to die?'
'When you look at the president.'
'But he's over there.'
He was to her side. She looked back to see a man dressed in all black, standing a few feet away with a gun. The same gun. She screamed, jumped down and ran to protect herself. Someone was running around, trying to protect her, but it was her lover, who shot her.
She looked at him as he lowered the gun, and she fell.
'I never did.'

Everybody Leaves

Everybody always leaves. That's the scary thing. You never know who to love, who to trust, or which direction you want to go. You say you will never leave, but you always end up doing just that.
Leave.
It's what people do best. Some may not realize that, but it happens. You don't consider the consequences, good or bad. You would walk away from someone that needed you, you would leave them alone... Again. Just as you found them in the first place.
When you're young, it happens, and when you're old, it happens. People of all shapes and sizes leave, different ethnicities, different everything. You can never be 100% sure unless you know someone, but even then you're scared. You're scared of being alone, being abandoned... You would rather hate instead of being alone because then at least you knew someone was thinking about you, even in a bad way.
Because you can Never truly know what's in store for you until you enter, unless you take the initiative to do something about your unhappiness, your fear. But yet.... We understand. We understand that you're hesitant to trust. How can you tell what’s real? Whether it’s love or just lust? We should make everyone stay, stay a little longer. Hold them a little longer, kiss them a little longer, need them a little longer. Because once someone is gone, maybe we start getting used to the idea of not having them, and we become less and less dependent on that said person. It's not a game, and you're certainly no prize. You're far from perfection, and it's something you realize. You want them to promise to love you forever, but even promises are broken. They tell you over and over again, but it's always coming undone. Was it something you did? Something you said? You'll never know, but what you will know, is that something, along the line, something went wrong. And you pray with everything that it fixes itself, but it never does. You lie in bed, awake, for the second night with no chance of sleeping, thinking it was all a mistake. If people never entered, they would never have to leave.... So you've decided to give up, never let people in so they could never leave, but you know you would go insane. Sometimes all you need is a hug and reassurance to know you're wanted, needed, or just... There. You're not useless, but it's how you feel. You realize getting hurt is inevitable, but you don't want to go through it again... No, not again. No, you don't want the abuse, the marks, the bruises, the pain. You don't want the death, for your past to repeat itself.... You don't want to leave. All you want, is to be told, "I love you" from the person that it matters most.
You try so hard.... to be beautiful for once. To make yourself look... confident. You look for a comment, but it never comes. Do you know why? It's simply because they don't notice you. They don't notice your efforts because you're not worth the time. Maybe, on the outside there's a strong smile, but inside you're screaming. Everyone needs someone a while. Some days you're angry. At yourself, at the world, at a specific other. But you just want to be recognized, you suppose.
When you try, nothing comes. It's what you're used to. What can you do to keep them? Keep them with you, make them stay. If you dressed differently, acted different. It keeps you up for days on end. You're used to everything that happens but.... You want to change some that does....
But no one is there to help you...
You don't know what you can do anymore. Are you even good enough? Or is it pity? You can't tell the difference. All you do, is think. Think about it and sigh. It's in people's heads, and that's all. It's never there. What can you think? What can you do? Is there anything? No. You're not good enough.. Never will be. Because... no one notices you. No one is there. They all left.
But some are there. Some.

Talk

People talk. They gossip, spread rumors, call each other out, bash or compliment. Sometimes things lead to bad results, or even good ones. The result can be a loss of a friend, or a relationship. Or even the loss of a relationship. Some people let others in their life because the pain or joy they feel is so great. People want to spread the joy, or receive help for their pain.
Sometimes when the pain is so great, we will let anyone be the doctor. And other times, you want no one to be the doctor. You don't want help. You just want to remain in your own sadness and think. You feel that no one can help rescue you and no one can do anything to help. It would just make it worse. So you let no one inside your head to help. You leave that to yourself. But your own self doubt and pity for yourself gets in the way of reasoning. You can't reason with yourself to be pulled from your sadness because you don't think you can be. Your mind wants you to stay in this state so you don't get hurt again. But you're not stupid, you know it might happen again if you're not careful.
But other times you take a leap from the norm and trust someone to help you. A small opening is shown to let just one person in, to test the waters. Will it actually work? You don't know until you start to spill everything that's been eating at you for a long time. You don't know if it's the right thing to do once you start, but you can't pull back now. They already know something's wrong. It would be so embarrassing if they spilled it to someone else. It would be horrible because you see that said person frequently. Or maybe you don't. You don't care because it feels good to let someone in finally, even if your brain is smart and screams at you not to. You never mind it and continue. You hope that they can do something to help, and they most likely can, even if they don't say much. Even if you drag them into something you didn't want to, you still want help. And they don't mind giving it.
But what deep wound ever healed without a scar? None. Everything leaves a mark on your heart, on your life. But it makes you stronger. I know it hurts, it's life, and it's real. It fucking hurts and it kills, but it's pretty much all we've got.Nothing anyone can say or do can take back what is done because it's already imprinted on your life. The scar will be there for the rest of your life and you'll look back on it years from now and remember the pain you went through. But you got through it successfully and you're still on the earth. You're still part of humanity and stronger than ever. You have risen above it all.
You can't always get what or who you want and it's something that you've come to realize. It's not fair, we know. But God only gives you the people you need in your life to hurt you, leave you and love you. He doesn't give you the people you want. Yes, you might miss the past, but it's not part of your present for a reason. A damn good one. You can't wait for everything to pass, you have to learn to deal with the pain and the problems and dance in the rain. Happiness doesn't necessarily need sunshine to be happiness. You can find it in the rain. Holding onto something or someone after they've left you can be unhealthy and ruin your present. It's why people learn to live and let die.
You'll know you've found people worth your while when you don't have to act happy when you're around them, it just happens. You know you've found someone that can help you when they make you feel better after talking to them when you've had a bad day. You'll just know. You always do. Even if it's not sudden or right away. Things in life take time. You learn that the hard way most of the time.
Life comes with no guarantee's, no.... second chances. Everyone tells you to live your life to the fullest because it's too short to be anything but happy. And it's true. You'll spend all this time upset and not realize how much time passes until you stop and take a look around. And you try to change what's been done. You fix your unhappiness and become happy for a change. You stop wallowing and shake it off. You drag yourself out of a deep hole that was dug for you. Never be afraid to smile until your face hurts or laugh until your stomach kills. Live in the moment you're in. Don't dwell on the past or think of the future. The people that love you most, that care about you, will stick with you for life. It doesn't matter how long you've known someone, it just matters who said "I'm here for you" and proved it.
And in the end, you always have someone like that. If it's under your nose or in front of your face. As Edward R. Murrow said, "The obscure we see eventually. The completely obvious, it seems, takes longer." And he's right. Everyone is so quick to look to the bad side of things, they can't see the good. "The human mind is inspired enough when it comes to inventing horrors; it is when it tries to invent a Heaven that it shows itself cloddish." as Evelyn Waugh puts it. But you can chose to do something. And eventually, you do. But remember, with each step forward, a piece of you is left behind. And a piece of you heals with time.





I tell you everything that is really nothing, and nothing of what is everything, do not be fooled by what I am saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I am not saying. ~Charles C. Finn


Alice came to a fork in the road. "Which road do I take?" she asked.
"Where do you want to go?" responded the Cheshire cat.
"I don't know," Alice answered.
"Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."
~Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Sorry

What do you call something that makes your heart beat so fast and then skips more than a few beats? Like a sprinter that tripped and fell. What do you call something that gives you a nervous pang that shoots from your heart, down your arm and up your thumb? What do you call something that gives your stomach so many butterflies, you have to apologize to it for them all? What do you call something that makes your knees weak each time their gaze meets yours?
And it makes you cry when you think about its end and that the feeling wasn't returned to you. But what do you suppose it was called? You knew it had a name for it, but you couldn't figure out what it was. Even after they made it painfully clear that it wasn't returned, you still felt it.
Even after the tears and the collapse to the ground.
If you could go back in time, you would do thing differently, trying to make them stay a little longer, or make the blow a little less painful to hear. You could have prepared yourself mentally, to soften the blow.
You can tell yourself that it was fine, and not their fault, but a part of you wants to know what the exact reason was. There was more to it. You always felt like they did deserve someone better, so if it made them happy, then you would act happy also. As much as you want to cry and let them know how hurt you were, you won't. You won't lead on that you just want to stay in bed all day, not do anything but think about what happened and think about the better times, even though your mind would replay that ending over and over again.
You knew that it was a part of life, and it's not going to be the last time, but you want it to be. They would still be there, you knew that, but it also made it worse. You would see them and remember what it was like to call them your own. But you had to act strong and like nothing happened so that they would never see you weak, and know how much they hurt you. How much they made you cry and collapse on the ground.
It would be a long road to recovery, but it was a road you had to take to start enjoying the things you did before. After everything you couldn't sleep, you lost your appetite, and you didn't enjoy anything that made you happy before. You looked at the things that were there: the pen and paper, the belt and uniform, the photo album.... and you felt nothing but sick.
But what could you do but let time pass and see where it took you? Even though every time you tried to take a breath you were already choking, and you tried to break something that was already broken.... Nothing helped. Time would heal the wounds, and it would leave a scar like everything else that hurt.
You would hold your head high after a few days, laugh it off and smile again. You would enjoy the things you used to in time, and forget about the day that it all ended. But you would never forget. You would keep it in the back of your mind in a box with all the amazing memories that time gave you. You'd only open that box in private just in case it gave you a point of weakness you didn't want anyone else to see.
In time only. In time.
Live and let live, or live and let die? Which one was it? You were angry, but you were sad. There was nothing you could do to change their feeling, and you wouldn't blame them. You couldn't.
The tears would still come and so would the knees that would give out each time the ending played in your mind. Every time, without fail. Every time you see them, it would be torture, but in time everything would be alright. The time would be a while and you knew that.
All you want to say, is "I'm sorry" because you were. You weren't special or "one-of-a-kind" and you wish you were.
A part of you wanted them to see you collapse on the ground in tears, but the other half wouldn't let you because it would make them fee worse, and you cared about them too much. You wanted them to be happy, even if it meant that you couldn't be with them.

What is it about death that brings a family closer? It looks like someone has to die in order to get a full family gathering. Instead of a birthday, or a reunion, or even something as simple as a graduation would normally bring everyone together, but not this time. Not this time around, it's happy. When you have over 40 people gathered in the same place, of the same family, for the same reason, it's never anything happy.
After everything that goes on during the duration of one day, there's never really any time to just sit down and take off your shoes. Between people visiting, the tears and all the sayings of, "I'm so sorry", and the dealing with the affairs, the final goodbyes and kisses, you never really have any time to just think.
Maybe it's a good thing. If you thought about anything, it would be in instant tear-trigger. Your eyes were red, puffy and sore from all the crying, and the sides of your nose looked like something from a paint can. Everyone was running around, down the streets, into cars, in and out of buildings and going everywhere but to a chair.
You didn't even have time to eat.
Whether it was your first experience with death or your seventh, it still hit you the same way. With a devastating blow to the chest. You could feel it in the pit of your heart, even though you tried your best to ignore it, and tried the best to keep yourself so busy with everything that you couldn't have time to listen to it, to feel it. But it's there. It's there waiting.
And when you finally do have the time to just sit... You don't know what to do. At a restaurant with mother and sister, you all talk of the memories that made you laugh, and the others that made you cringe. It didn't hit you hard because it was still waiting. It was waiting until you were alone.
When you entered the house it was quiet. It wasn't something you were used to. It was something that you would begin to hate. It was already something you hated. You half expected to see them as you walked in the door, but your heart knew that they weren't coming back. Having someone around you for the some-odd years that you've been alive, or the some-odd years you can remember and then walking around for just one day without them is odd.

During life, you're used to talking to someone's soul through their body. You begin to love them. You begin to love their soul, not their body. Their body is only the thing that carries their soul. It's nothing more than a place to be trapped inside until everything they needed to do was complete.
Their compulsive behaviors, their odd habits, and their sicknesses are all gone once they die because it was their body that held them. They would finally be free of everything that made them miserable, they would be free and peaceful, and happy.
That's something that you need to be happy for also. Even though you're sad and upset that they had to leave you before they got to witness everything that you were going to do, you were happy that they could be with their predeceased family once again.
If only they would have waited two or five years.... If only.... But then that means that they would have suffered more.
So it's something that you have to learn to let go. Yes, it will be a struggle, and yes, you will grieve for many months in the future, but if you know something, know this.... “Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.”

Remembrance (Memory Of You)

Remembrance of a person is a bit strange. All of the memories that are held in the brain are released as you recall an event with a person, a person that had been your friend, uncle, aunt, mother, father, whatever. They were someone to you.
Their body had always been with you. Everyday they were there, asleep or awake, waiting. You weren't sure what they were waiting for, but it was something and it was there. Everyday new memories were made and stored in the back of your mind. Whether it was pointless and dull, or upbeat and hilarious, the memories were the memories. They were little things that would forever link you to that person, a very little thing that was there and real.
It's true that you cannot reach out and physically touch the memory, but you didn't need to in order to remember how real it truly was. The laughs that were shared and the sorrows as well, they were all as visible as the wind. Only you knew it was there, only you could be the one to feel it.
And if you really payed attention in the darkest hour of the night, you could hear the prayers of the people left behind. The countless Hail Mary's and the prayers of Our Father In Heaven. During that hour all voices of your loved ones were heard. The used-to-be frail voice of a small woman was now the strong and enthusiastic voice of a young woman who was not sick anymore. And the voice of a disgruntled, gentle old man became the voice of a healthy and vibrant young man.
Their words were like a blanket to make sure everything was going to be alright during the night. The words were like a promise to say that nothing would hurt you as long as they were there with their prayers and their love.
Nothing of sorrow came. Only happiness and laughter rang in your ears during the silent night. The strange feeling of remembrance, the strange feeling of knowing that when you walked downstairs they were no longer there, the strange feeling of being alone at night overwhelmed you as you lied motionless.
Being alone in the night with no outside noise was strange. It was always there for your life, and now all of a sudden it was gone. Your knees were the only part of your body that were hugged the most now. Huddled up to your chest and tucked beneath your chin.
However, the memories helped. They were flowing into your mind behind your closed eyelids, filling you with the good times. It's what helped you get to sleep at night. But what would happen when the memories run out? Nothing. Because they would never, ever run out as long as you let don't them.
Alone in the dark you felt, but alone in the dark you were not.


The poster on my wall, the picture on my desk.
A couple of things that remind me of this mess.
Every night I fall asleep hoping for a better tomorrow
But all I get are bad memories, a day filled with sorrow.
I remember your soft touch,
The one I miss so much.
I remember your smile... your laugh
If only I could just take it back.

I just completely hate the day I had to say goodbye,
I just simply hate the day you had to die.

Day 61 - The identity you think you are does not exist.

Honestly- Who are we? Are we just temporary beings on the Earth, doing what is needed until our bodies can no longer do anything? Or are we here with a purpose? Each person, each identity that this place holds is unique, but unrecognizable. If we passed an amazing artist or thinker or doctor on the streets, we wouldn't think twice. We all have our own way of concealing our identity whether or not we have one in our minds.
Or - We give each person our own identity to make their lives more interesting than our own. Or more dull than what we like to believe our lives are. We make people into what we want them to be like a successful accountant or a low-life bum living off of welfare. We're so quick to judge a person by their outside appearance. As always, there is also the stereotypical identity we give each sex. Women are expected to be beautiful, thin, busty and graceful as portrayed by the media, and men are supposed to be "ripped", tan and basically a stud.
But these "identities" are false. No woman is perfectly thin and curvy and no man is the perfect guy to be in a relationship with. Most won't surprise you by randomly showing up at your house just to see you, and not all women can find their way around the bedposts. We all have that type of person pictured and built in our minds, waiting for them to show up, but fall for someone of lesser.
But never mind who the other people are - Who are you? Are you your own person, or who somebody molds you into? Look at yourself. Are you who you've wanted to be all along? Maybe you are not your own person. You've let media, family, significant others, and crushes shape you into a person you know you're not. And you've gone so far down this path that you don't even know where to begin to say no. You don't know what music you actually like, or what your personality really is. So what do you end up doing? You keep letting other people make the choices for you.
Even if you let yourself be controlled by you, what influences your choices? You may not follow the pop culture, but everything at one point was considered to be "pop culture". You could have decided which way in life you're going to go and what you want to portray yourself as... But are you afraid of what people might think? Of course you are. We all are. Some more afraid than others. It's why we conceal a certain part of us that we want no one to see. We hide the things that make us unique. We hide the artistic things we do, we hide the activities we enjoy.... We're afraid of people's criticism. Maybe no consciously, but we are. Every one of us. Until we learn to say "Hey - fuck you" which can take the most confident people years.
Yes, you think you have an identity, but look at yourself. Who do you represent? Yourself, what you believe, or who someone else wants you to be? That you have to decide for yourself. As someone once said: "The identity you think you are does not exist." So what does that tell you? You do not exist? It's possible.
What are we really? Things that take up space, or things that have a purpose? Meaningless beings doing more harm than good, or individual people with individual causes?
Will we ever know what we are? Or will everyone just continue to ask the question: What/Who. Are. We?

Friday the thirteenth

So yes, for the second month in a row, it is Friday the thirteenth. My mother was diagnosed with cancer on Friday the thirteenth... Anyway.
So last night at about midnight... A boy asked me to be his girlfriend. It wasn't just a random boy, but the boy I met a while ago. I'll call him by his initials DV. We were talking for a while via texting and we were making fun of each other. I have him a "='(" smiley face thingy and he said he knew what would cheer me up. When I asked what, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I told him that maybe we should go on a date before we are official, just to test the waters and make sure we aren't rushing into anything. He agreed to that. So now we're trying to set up a date to hang out.
In a way, I want to wait for "Dan"... But in another way, I want to date DV...
We were going to do something tomorrow, but he works 8-4 and I have a "family reunion" type thing tomorrow. It's the celebration of my grandmother's birthday but we use it as a family reunion as well. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but they're crazy. (As Christopher Titus would say;) Not crazy as in; "My family is CRAZY!" Crazy as in; "We the jury find the defendant". So this should be interesting. We usually get together at The Marriott, but I think they were getting tired of my HUGE family, so this year it's at the Holiday Inn. We always gather round the pool and swim for a few hours, then eat, then go home.
This year I'm bringing a couple books and notebooks to write and read. Oh, with my music. But beforehand I'm going to karate, so that should be interesting. I'm going to bring my camera as well... Knowing my uncles, it'll get damaged, and they'll replace it -.- They had better not hurt Joshua.
I had to stay after today with my history teacher ^^ I had to make up a quiz and got ONE wrong!!!! League of nations and United Nations are the same thing!!!!... Okay, not really, BUT HE KNEW WHAT I MEANT! Haha. Bastard! ^^ No, I love my teacher. He's amazing. His college buddy called him while he was grading my quiz. It was actually funny and entertaining. Something about a horror movie? Well anyway. We had some good laughs, him accusing me of cheating, me joking about telling on him to the principle to get him fired, haha. I would never get him fired. He's too cool (and good looking).
It was worth staying after for.
And then I had prep seventh period with DV which was fun. I saw some... nice photos :D That's all I'm going to say.


I will not be labeled as average. -Rachel Scott

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Five Months

So, I'm new to this whole... online blogging stuff. I usually do it on flickr, but I feel like my descriptions get too long sometimes, haha. So, I'll give this a try.
Today is March 12, 2009. On October 12, 2008, my great aunt died. It's hard to think that she's been gone for five months today. It's also kinda weird... She was someone that was there for me everyday of my life from the moment I was born. For fifteen years she was there for me, and for my mother, her whole life as well. She had helped with my brother and sisters for the longest time to make the load on my parents easier. I mean, she was one of those people that were cut-throat about their religion. She tried so hard to make us go to church and pray everyday, haha. It did get on our nerves, but she was an old lady (By the way, my mother's side of the family is Roman Catholic, and my father is Jewish. Story for another day).
We all had those days where we were a bit... short with her, but she was always nagging us about the smallest things. Pens, and water and everything in between. But now that she's gone, I miss it. I wish I would wake up to her asking how cold it was outside and come home to ask if I saw "Bob" ("Bob" is my ex's codename. You know, anonymity and such). Or whenever I went to karate, she'd ask the same thing; "Will you see 'Bob' there?" I would always sigh and groan, saying I didn't know.
But she was always very... enthusiastic. She loved anyone that walked in the door. You could break in with a plan to kill every single person in our home, but she would just sit there and talk. She would love them and say; "I'll pray for you". And she always did. I miss that.
She was devoted to her religion, like I am devoted to my karate. Haha, Ah-Ah loved that I was in karate. She would always ask how it went, how I did, if I had a test, etc. It was like, "Ah-Ah, I'm a Shodan. I don't test for another two years." Well, back then I was a Shodan. I wish she could see me now. Physically, see me.
She was less than a month away from seeing me run home with a brand new rank in hand. She was less than a month away from finally getting an answer to; "How did the test go?" But unfortunately, she just couldn't hold on for that much longer. It was hard to see her go because the immediate family had to watch her slowly deteriorate in front of our eyes. It wasn't easy.
One Sunday after "Sunday Dinner", she was watching the God Channel (that's what we all call it) when my mother walked in after dropping off Grandma and my Aunt. She looked at my mother and said, "Oh, by the way... I'm dying October 14th." My mother just looked at her crooked and asked what she meant. Ah-Ah explained that "they" came down and told her. Apparently if people pray everyday and fufill their daily obligations, an Angel will tell them a week before they die.
My mother just brushed it off and laughed.
On Tuesday, my aunt went into such a bad respiratory distress, we thought she was going to die right then and there. But she didn't. My mother being a nurse helped her and calmed her down before going back to bed, cautiously. Wednesday my aunt got worse. The didn't have the energy to get out of bed. Well, barely. She still hobbled her way into the bathroom a few last times. Thursday she was completely bed-ridden and almost completely inable to speak or do anything but sleep. She was always tired. We all stood by her side and made her comfortable in her death bed (quite literally. Hospice delivered a bed for her), telling her things. Earlier that day I called my ex boyfriend. I called him because he knew my aunt, and how much love she had to give. I thought that he would have cared about me and how much I was hurting, but he didn't. He broke the promise he made the day he broke my heart. "I'll always care about you. Just call and I'll be there." Want to know what he told me?
"You don't seem upset."
What you have to understand is that my mother raised us very well. But she's an Irish woman that doesn't show her emotions. And those lessons that her mother taught her, she passed onto us. I have only seen my mother cry twice, in my entire life. So I hide my emotions and don't let anyone see me hurt. It's a lesson hard forgotten, it's something I am used to.
Also, when my sister went to work that night, she went over to my aunt to say goodbye. My older sister bent down to kiss her goodbye and say that she would be back soon, when my aunt lifted her arms to hug her. She tried her hardest to say I love you, but the words just couldn't form and come out of her throat. She tried to hard, but she couldn't say it. God, it killed me.
And by Friday, she didn't do anything but breathe. We stayed home from our father's that weekend. We all held her hand by her bedside for a while. My neighbor came over to lift our spirits and play some blackjack for a while. It lasted somewhat long...
To whomever is reading this: My aunt died at exactly 9am when mass ended on Saturday, October 12, 2008. That was the second time I had ever heard or saw my mother cry. She had told me not an hour before that she was going to get coffee for herself when I was still in bed. She didn't want to leave my aunt's side. But she went, and I couldn't get myself out of bed long enough to sit with her. I'm so selfish. I should have gotten my lazy ass out of bed to sit with her and tell her everything I wanted to before she left me. But I didn't. I slept.
At 9am, my mother ran up the stairs, crying her eyes out and flinging open the doors to our bedrooms. She choked out that Ah-Ah was dead, tears pouring down her pale cheeks... I ran downstairs ahead of my little sister, but behind my older... And I saw my aunt... Lying there... On that bed... Dead.
Have you ever had to see that, my friend? It's something I would not wish upon my worst enemy. It was weird. My first real dead body and I flipped. I burst into tears and went into denial like most people would. I ran out the door after saying some prayers and kissing her goodbye. I didn't want to be there when she was pronnounced. I ran down to the only place I knew.... Karate. My instructor saw how much of a mess I was and just stopped. The kids kept going. Even though I am an instructor as well as a student at karate... They still kind of... Didn't want to see me a mess. So they didn't.
I stayed around karate until the end of weapons class and just cried.
It's been five months since that week and day... And I still haven't gotten over it. She was closer to me than anyone ever was before. In a way I wish she hadn't died and I would still have her, but in another, I'm glad she's gone. I say that because... She's rid of all her sickness and compulsive behavior... But I need her.
I saw her in some dreams of mine and I woke up crying. I want to see her again, hold her, kiss her, love her. Physically. But we still remember her. Her funny memories and ridiculous things she did... Everyday.