Death.

When I walked out the door, the sun was barely up as I looked around. Dew was still on the ground, birds were not chirping, lights all off. I got into the car and placed a pillow between my head and the door and drifted into a deep sleep I hadn't gotten the night before.

The sun shined in the car window as we traveled down an interstate surrounded on both sides by farms. Every once in a while the light would get lost behind the trees we past, but the dancing light wouldn't allow sleep. The music in my ears tapped out a seemingly happy tune. Sometime about wanting to call you baby all the time.

I opened my eyes as we passed a large red barn with several horses eating hay outside of it. A very familiar buzzing sound caught my attention as I sat up. My mother reached for her cell phone and took a deep breath.

"Hi Daddy, what's going on?"

A long silence followed.

"Oh Daddy. Just hold on to her and tell her we love her. Can you do that for us? Stay with her Daddy. We'll be there soon. I love you."

She closed the phone and dropped it. She looked out the window and then back at me and my sister in the back seat.

"She's... gone."

The words echoed in my ears. My mother started crying hysterically-as did my sister. I tear r two fell down my father's face. I sat there unbelieving.

This wasn't happening. It was just a dream. I would wake up and we would be in a new state, closer to my grandparents and happy with my family. I wasn't actually watching my mother heave and choke on her own her own tears. My sister wasn't curled up in a ball crying uncontrollably. And certainly my father wasn't letting silent tears fall steadily out of his eyes.

"Ed, I need to you stop the car. I need to you get me something to calm my nerves. I need sugar. Ed, pull the car over. Ed, stop the car. Stop the car."

My father pulled the car over at the first gas station we saw. He looked back at my sister, then at me and asked if I wanted to go in with him. I shook my head yes, pulled my shoes out from under the seat, and got out of the car. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and walked me in to the store.

"Baby, are you aware of what's going on?"

I looked at him with his tear streaked face. His wrinkles seemed deeper, his eyes more tired.

My eyes opened whiter and I started sobbing in the middle of the store.

"I... want... my.. Nanny."

"Baby, she's fine. Grandma died."

"I WANT MY NANNY."

He pulled out his phone and called her. He handed the phone over to me and I cried to her. I told her how much I loved her and that I wanted her to be with me. I wanted her here. I wanted to be with my Nanny. She promised to be on the first train to New York.

I straightened up and walked back out to the car.

A few days passed, and the next thing I know I'm standing in the back of a church dressed in black pantsuit and a blue shirt. I walked down the isle and took my place in a bench with my family.

The father stood up in the front of the church and asked us to bow our heads.

"As we walk through the valley of death, we shall fear no evil."

Favorite Word.

So, it occured to me that I haven't written anything lately. It's not that I've been too busy or anything. It's simply been because I haven't been up to writing. I've started several entries, but I can't make myself complete one.

When a dear friend of mine asked for an explaination of my favorite word, I gave her one.I thought I'd share it. But, instead of giving the explanation that I gave her, I'm going to story it.

------------------------------------------------

Stepping out of the elevator I knew it the next twenty-four hours weren't going to be easy. The smell hit me before I had even walked in the main entrance, so the trip to the 7th floor got more nauseating with each step.

"The helicopter just landed on the roof. Get room 7068 ready for a 3 month old patient please."

My heart dropped a little. I forced myself to take another step. I needed to just ignore everything going on around me until I made it to the end of the hall. I lowered my stare and quickened my pace until I reached my nephew's door.

The steady beeping calmed me a little as I recognized a lullaby playing softly in the room. I stepped in and looked into the white crib standing alone in the middle of the room. A small little boy looked up at me with big blue eyes. He squirmed a little and reached up for me. I smiled at him, gave him my finger, and leaned forward to kiss him.

"Are you family?"

I turned around to face a older woman with grey hair and a soft smile.

"Yea, I'm his aunt. Have you seen my sister or brother-in-law?"

We talked for a couple minutes and she explained to me that my mother had convinced the other two to go and eat something. She also explained what was going on with James and how they were trying to fix it.

"He's going into surgery in about an hour. Someone will be come in about 15 minutes to take his blood for preliminary tests just to make sure we're doing what we're supposed to."

With that statement, she left the room.

I stood at the side of the cradle staring down at my nephew. Barely 3 months old and already having to go in for his second surgery. He had spent most of his life in a hospital. Sure he'll never remember any of it, but this isn't the story we wanted to be telling him when he grew up. My heart broke for the poor boy. Not only for him, but for all the small children I saw hooked up to IVs and bandaged all over.

My family returned and I excused myself for a couple minutes to I could shake off the sight of James hooked up to four different monitors. I circled the pediatric wing twice before I let myself notice my surroundings. I walked by a playroom with a little girl sitting in it and turned around. She was sitting in a miniature chair holding on to a very worn looking stuffed rabbit. Cracking open the door, she looked up at me.

"Will you come play with me?"
"Sure! What do you want to play?"

We played with building blocks for a while and talked about how old she was, what grade she was in, what she liked to do. For a 5 year old, she was very talkative. I let her play with my hair for a while and I played with hers. I asked her to color me a picture, and in the middle of doing so, she started to cry.

"I don't like being here. Nobody ever plays with me. And all the needles scare me. I don't like being poked and no matter how many times I tell them 'no' they won't stop. Can you make them stop? You're so nice."

I held back tears. Even though my nephew wouldn't remember being here, she would. I wanted to be able to tell her that I could make them stop, but lying isn't in my nature.

"You want to get better, don't you? The doctors know what they're doing. You need to trust them sweetheart, they're going to fix you so you can grow big and tall."

She stared at me with big brown eyes and cried harder. Crawling into my lap, she wrapped her arms around my neck. The grip was so tight it almost felt as though she was trying to press herself into me. As if I could become some sort of body armor for her.

I rubbed her back and stroked her hair. The front of my shirt was covered in tears and snot, but I didn't care.

"Lovie, it's going to be alright. "

She pulled away and sniffled.

"I like that name, lovie. It makes me feel better. Will you keep calling me that?"
"Of course lovie. Anything you want."

Running.

Feeling completely out of the ordinary, she sat down at the computer.

She quickly read what was flashing on the screen and stood up. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to run.

She thought the best sound in the world was the sound of her tennis shoes slapping the pavement at 5:30 in the morning. The musky air and stillness of the world made her comfortable in ways she could never explain. The contrast of her white shoes and the pitch black pavement made her chuckle every time she looked down at her feet. The slight wetness of the grass made good traction difficult, but she enjoyed the challenge.

Running was her therapy. Because she couldn't run from anything or anyone, she ran for herself. She ran for all the times she had been hurt, when it felt like her heart was slowly being taken apart piece by piece. She ran for all the times she had been scared of how something would turn out, when she thought she would fail. Most importantly she ran for all the times she felt nothing, and thought that she should.

It happened quite frequently, really.

It's not like she didn't have emotions. She had more passion in her for the things she loved than she could convey properly, more compassion for every person in her life than anyone understood, and more saddness for the things that didn't work out than a typical person would.

As she ran over a small bridge she glanced down at the water. A couple of small fish were sitting idly next to a branch that had fallen into the pond. It was 5:30 in the morning, she figured, nature's probably still sleeping.

She turned up the volume to her music almost as loud as it would go and kept on running. Her chest started to hurt and she could feel the tears coming. Everyday this happened. She would be at peace with everything, and then life hit her in the face like a ton of bricks. Gasping for air she slowed down and the tears fell. Refusing to stop, she made her way back to her house.

She walked in one of the side doors to her house and sprawled out on the floor. The carpet was softer in that room than the rest of the house mainly because it was a throw rug, but also because it didn't get much use. Laying on her back she pulled the headphones out of her ears, shut her iPod off, and wrapped the cords around it. She rolled over onto her side and slowly stood up.

As she past her computer again, she debated answering the flashing message on the screen.

Deciding not to, she started getting ready for the day.

Beautiful Disaster.

"...You're a beautiful disaster. Someday, someone's gonna make you get yourself to happiness, and it's gonna be amazing."

I sat there, looking at the statement in an almost awe.

I rubbed the hair off my forehead and looked out the window. A car went down the road and the headlights danced over the walls, reflecting off the the glass and mirrors temporarily illuminating the room. Fiddling with the rings on my fingers, I responded with the only thing I could.

"Who says I'm not happy?"

It was a superfluous statement. I knew I wasn't, and from what I could tell he had me pinned. I stood up and stretched, the blood slowly returning to my limbs. I plopped back down in my chair and pulled my computer up onto my lap again.

"It's beautiful because you care so damn much and are an awesome person. It's a disaster because I think you're stopping yourself short in the pursuit of perfection and happiness."

The topic was quickly changed. It was very hard for me to sit there and realize that what he was saying was true.

We talked a little while longer and then said goodnight... I layed in bed for a good hour afterwards replaying the words he said in my head. I couldn't believe that someone could actually come to that conclusion about me. I was always happy, always laughing and smiling, always taking care of someone. It never occured to me that being that way was stopping me short in this quest for perfection or happiness.

I pulled the blankets up over my head and went to sleep. It was that night that I had one of those dreams.

I was standing in the middle of kitchen that opened up to a living room. There we a bunch of people, all my age drinking and laughing and dancing around. I joined in, taking shots and mixing drinks like everyone else. There was a guy there... roughly my height and very muscular doing the same thing I was doing. I went down into the basement of the house and laid on the couch. He joined me shortly and we spent a good portion of the night just talking.

We moved from the couch to a bed and then to a dock. It was slightly cold outside and the breeze coming off the lake only added to the chill.

Sitting there staring at the stars listening to him scared me. He was telling me stories and experiences that hurt him, and there was nothing I could do about it. No matter how much I tried, I knew that I would never be able to fix it.

I was furious. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pull my hair out with anger that someone I knew and cared about could be hurt. My mind immediately went to all the people I care for or I love. I would shatter into a million pieces if for some reason anything happened at all to them.

"You just need to take care of yourself and separate yourself from the pain of others."

With those words I woke up. I looked around my room, down at the clock, and up at the ceiling. I stumbled up the stairs and creeped into my sitting room. I picked up my computer and wrote him back. I told him he was right, I understood, and I wanted to fix it.

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. Even if it doesn't happen instantly, it's an amazing start."

For the first time I'm going to fix something that needs to be fixed. But this time, it's for me.

Questions.

“Why did you come here?”

I couldn’t dodge it anymore. He had me pinned… there was nothing to hide behind. I sat back in my chair and looked him in the eye.

“Because… Well, I don’t know. If I had any idea I probably would have talked myself out of it. All I know is this morning I packed a bag and drove. I ended up here. School’s starting in a month, and I’m extremely scared. This is my first year as a definitive major. And Pre-Med for Jesus’ sake! I’m going to kill myself. Or maybe it’s because I’m getting married in 6 months to my high school sweetheart and I’m afraid of it failing. Or maybe because of the dream I’ve been having for the past three years.”

What dream?”

So I told him about the dream, and how I wake up crying every time. He pulled me closer and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Well, that’s a problem know isn’t it?”

I kind of chuckled. I didn’t know what else to do, and it felt good just sitting there with him. It reminded me of the nights we spent watching movies and playing video games together. He rubbed my back for a moment then scooped up our plates. We talked as he did the dishes trying to interpret the dream the best we could. It was funny, when I had tried to talk to my roommate or even Dolan about it I felt embarrassed or awkward… but not with Chris.

“It’s almost 1 in the morning and I’ve got to be at the lab at 8:30. Do you need a place to stay?”

He took me upstairs and let me have my pick of the rooms. I chose one that was surely decorated by his mother. Everything from the color of the walls to the knobs on the dresser reminded me of her. The bedspread was a solid maroon color with a deep brown trim. The walls were the same color brown. I threw my bag on the bed and turned around to say goodnight. We stood there, awkwardly hugging for a minute or two. I let go and he kissed my forehead like he used to every time we said goodnight or goodbye. He pulled the door shut and I pulled my toothbrush out of my bag. Right next to it was my cell phone, “5 missed calls”. Oh fuck.

Two were from Dolan, one from my mother, one from my roommate, and one from Dolan’s best friend. Apparently there was a search of some sort for me. I called my roommate first and let her know I was okay. We talked about what happened for a while and she told me to do what I needed to do. I decided to wait to call my mother back until the morning and called Dolan. It rung 4 times before a very groggy voice answered the phone.

“Sweetheart, where are you? It’s one in the morning… I tried calling…”

I explained to him that I was in Baltimore visiting an old friend, and I would be home in a couple of days. He started with a million questions and began to become frantic. I told him that no, everything was okay, I’m really fine, I just needed a getaway before school started, I love you, trust me, I’ll call you when I get a chance, bye.

I crawled into the bed and pulled the covers up over me and under my chin. The rain pitter-pattered on the window as I drifted off asleep.

Visits.

He looked roughly the same as the last time I had seen him. He hadn’t gained any weight, or cut his hair in a while. The shag looked good on him though. He was clean-shaven, which was a huge shock.

“I know, it’s quite a shock. The lab I’m working at now requires a clean shaven face.”

I stood up and he still towered a good 6 inches over me. I kind of smiled and shook my head. Even after not seeing each other for 3 years he could still read my facial expressions like a book.
We exchanged pleasantries for a while, and sat there. Just being there and sitting next to him I knew it was what I was supposed to be doing. All my worrying had been unnecessary. We stood up and walked back to our cars with a plan for me to follow him back to his house. When I got in my car I chuckled. Here I was driving a brand BMW that Dolan had bought me and Chris was still driving the same Honda Civic he had before he went off to college. He fell in love with the car and told me one night that he would never get rid off it, not until the day it died and couldn’t be fixed.

What probably should have taken a half hour took us 15 minutes to navigate through. He pulled into the drive next to a rather decent sized house for being in the middle of a major city. I pulled over in the road right in front and got out. The house was brick, and had a white walk up. The yard was small, but what more would you expect? What it was lacking in quantity it made up for in quality. The grass was soft and the rose bushes emitted the most amazing scent I had ever smelled. I took a closer look at the rose bushes despite the gaining darkness and stepped back. I couldn’t believe it. Immediately I thought it must have been a coincidence.

“Chris… yellow?”
“Yea, yellow.”

We walked in the door to a rather cluttered foyer. He pardoned the mess and took my jacket from me. We walked in the kitchen and he opened the fridge. I didn’t want anything, so he pulled a water out for himself and popped it open. We sat at the table by ourselves for a good hour talking about small things before deciding we were both hungry. Chris opened his cabinets to reveal anything you ever wanted. We settled on spaghetti, the only thing we were both excellent at making and content with eating.

As we sat down to eat, he finally asked me why I was there. I carefully thought over the answer. Even though I hate it, I answered a question with a question.

“Have you ever heard of the game ‘Truth’? You get to ask the other person anything you want and they have to answer with the truth. Or not at all. But if they don’t answer, they risk losing.”

He nodded no, and then shrugged.

“Oh, well, I was going suggest playing, but we don’t have to.”
“It seems like a high school drink party game to me.”
“Funny, I’m pretty sure that’s where I learned it.”

Chris agreed to play, so I started. I asked simple questions at first asking about how he got his job, what happened with him and his last girlfriend, why he had such a big house for just himself, and why his cabinets were so well filled. He answered honestly – a friend knew a suit at the lab, they didn’t see eye to eye on the importance of work verses a relationship, because he liked it and it already had yellow roses in the front, and his parents had just left two days ago and his mom did his grocery shopping for him one day. Chris asked small questions back about how college was going, had I finally decided on a major, how I was handling the work. But the he dropped the big one.

Driving.

I met a boy, Dolan, about halfway through my senior year and we hit it off immediately. Two months into our relationship people were making bets on when we were going to get engaged. His parents love me, and mine adore him. We were both accepted to the same colleges, and being as naïve as high school sweethearts can be, we chose to go to the same college. Over Fall Break of our sophomore year he asked my father to marry me, and on the first day back I stood in the middle of the Quad as he got down on one knee in the snow in front of all my friends and asked me to marry him. I said yes.

That night I had the dream.

I had a month before school started and 6 months until my wedding. If there was anything I could think of that I needed to do before doing either of those, was find Chris. We had casually kept in touch, emails mainly. If on the odd chance we were both on instant messenger at the same time we would check in on each other. Nothing like the way we used to be.

About halfway through the 5 hour drive I started to reminisce about how Chris and I used to be. “Dumbass” and “Dipshit” were our names for each other, “loser” being the common ground. If I ever had a problem I could always count on him for a very vague piece of advice which I never understood. If he needed help picking up a girl or needed an idea for one of his experiments, I was always there. He would help me get ready for dates, banquets, concerts, proms… anything where appearance mattered really. When I was scared about school or my future he would always comfort me, telling me that he’d ‘been there, done that’ and it was really nothing to be too worried about. College was a breeze for him, and it would be for me too. He said little things like that to keep me calm and sane.

We lived directly across the street from each other, which made life that much simpler for us to hang out.

I began passing the exit signs for Baltimore and began to grow nervous. I hadn’t called anyone but my roommate as I left. This was something big. Thoughts of “should I be doing this” and “why am I doing this” crawled through my head.

I pulled out my phone and took a deep breath. I set it in my lap and pulled into a parking spot near the docks and got out. I went down the little walk way and sat on a bench while thumbing through my contacts until I got to “Chris Parker”. I contemplated hitting the dial button because it was about four years ago that I had gotten his number. I did it anyway and waited. It rang three times before there was an answer.

“Hello?” “Hey…” “Is something wrong?” “That would depend on how you look at it.” “Where are you?” “Um… The docks near the aquarium.” “Okay. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” “Alright.” I sat on the bench messing with the rings on my finger. I watched boats come in and go out of the harbor and several dozen seagulls fly over head. I tried touching up my makeup but I was too distracted. The air was damp and slightly cold and smelled of fish, salt, and bog because of the chill I slid my gloves on. A shadow fell over my lap as I pulled the second glove on and I looked up.

The Dream.

I grabbed my keys and a duffle bag and walked out the door. I got in my car, started it, and called my roommate.

“I’m doing it.”

The past three years I’ve considered it. I think about it constantly, and I’ve had more dreams about it than I can count on my two hands. Each dream is the same, and I always wake up sad, fully knowing I had no control over it, but still upset I didn’t try harder.

In my dream, I’m standing in my parent’s driveway checking my watch every couple of minutes and looking down the road. The date is correct; I’ve only heard it a million times since he first told me. August 12th. Exactly ten days before I started my senior year of high school. That was the day he was leaving. I was scared. I don’t know why, but I start crying.

Chris isn’t there, and I’m sure I missed him. His car is absent from the normal crooked parking spot directly across from my front porch. Rain slowly begins to fall as I become frantic. I keep checking my watch and looking up and down the road, just more frequently. The thunder rolls and I begin sobbing. All I can think about is how I missed him and I missed my chance to tell him everything I never did.

Then miraculously, a very familiar arm reaches around my waste. My nose is filled with his scent and I feel the muscles in his arm tense up I go to turn around. I never actually get to find out if he was actually Chris… I always wake up clutching my pillows with tears dripping off my face.

Now as a college junior, I realized why I was having these dreams.

Explanation.

I've been working crazy amounts the past week or so, and as a result when I get home I am simply to tired to sit down and produce material worth reading.
Today, however, I took my laptop with me to work and wrote when I had down time. I ended up finishing the "Sorry" post, along with a 5 part story.
Haha, I guess that's what they call artistic build-up. =]
Anyway, enjoy "Sorry" and the first part of the 5 part story intitled "The Dream.".

Sorry.

It started before there was even an 'us'.

The sorries, that is.

The first time we were together and both knew we liked each other, your hand accidentally brushed mine as you reached for your backpack.

"I'm sorry."

The day you asked me to be your girlfriend, we were walking down the hall and as you sidestepped a pile of junk you fell into me.

"I'm sorry."

Our one year anniversary we were walking around the town and you stepped on the back of my heel, causing me to stumble forwards a couple of steps.

"I'm sorry."

I learned that these sorries weren't in fact genuine, just things you said because you thought it would be fitting. Because of that, I took it with a grain of salt .The sorries weren’t apologies, I knew that. I’d become accustom to this new definition of something I’d had known for my entire life. As the months went by, “I’m sorry” and “I love you” became essentially the same thing. It wasn’t set in stone or anything, but the understanding was there.

One oddly warm day in November Mike stopped by after school. He was wearing my favorite shirt – a white polo with maroon stripes. He smelled more musky than usual, which should have been a sign. The walked up wringing his hands together as if he was extremely nervous about something. He stopped in the middle of the walkway and looked up at me. I was sitting at the top of the stairs, about 3 feet higher. The sun was coming down in beams, randomly landing on his foot, left hand, and right over his heart. He looked up at me and the vibes coming off of him hurt.
He slowly took the stairs and sat down next to me. He grabbed my hand and kissed me cheek. He sat there for a few minutes, probably both realizing this would be the last time that we were, well “we”.

Words were spoken, tears fell, promises made.

As he walked away, I started to sob.

He stopped, turned around, and offered his hands.

“I’m sorry.”

Apology.

I apologize for the immense lack of writing.
I'm working a 60 week, and that doesn't make time for a lot of writing.
But I'll get on the ball soon.
And ironically, the story I'm working on is called "Sorry."

Lightening.

Small, cool, gentle blobs of water land sporadically on my dress as I fly through the air. The delicate breeze was slowly cooling and turning into stronger gusts as the sun disappeared behind swirling menacing clouds. Something about the rather large tree I was sitting under made me feel safe enough to stay rooted on my swing, so I continued kicking my higher and higer then falling backwards.

It started pouring harder and harder, but I stayed put. I've always been a fan of rain so swaying on the swing listening to the steady crescendo of the rainsplatter was more calming than irritating.

Looking out over the wide field in front of me, I saw the rain and wind bend the tall grass and create a ripple affect throughout it. The bushes and smaller trees were getting their fair share of abuse from the weather, but there was nothing that could be done for them. There was one tree that stood out from the rest in the upper left corner. It was easily the runt of the trees and it had branches that grew upwards, almost as if reaching for heaven. Even bark was slightly paler and more splotchy than the ones surrounding it.

The thunder started to roll louder and more frequent as the now-obvious storm approached. I stood up from the wood swing and cautiously made my way to the edge of my safety zone. The lightening was striking in bright lines all around the tops of the mountains and high points on the surrounding farms. As I turned my back, the bright light I had seen moments before landed within earshot with a stiff snap. I turned in time to see the top half of the little tree fall helplessly to the ground. The cracks and pops of all the branches coming off resonated in my ears. My heart broke slightly because of the misfourtune that fell upon the tree, but what was there to do?

The rain started to lighten up, so I stepped gingerly through the field hopping around rocks and holes that lined my way. After cutting my legs several times on briars and slipping once or twice, I arrived at the poor little tree. Knowing that lightening never strikes the same place twice made me certain that the safest place for me to be was right there. I crawled between the branches of the newly fallen half and climbed up the half that was still standing. As soon as I reached the top of the tree all went silent. It was as if I was the only person --only thing-- in the world. It was a peace that I had never felt before.

With no warning and no mercy, the most brilliant and blazing light shot down from the sky. What I felt was a pain no other human could understand. I felt the electric pulses shoot through my veins touching every tip of my body searching for a way out. I couldn't breathe, my chest tightened up as if it were trying to restrain my palpitant heart.

I fell from the tree. It was the longest descent I'd ever recalled. I fell and fell and fell. There was no bottom to catch me. I was alone, hurt, and scared. Why I had left the safety of my tree swing seared my brain as I awaited the impact.

The impact was hard. It felt as if I was thrown against a concrete wall. The breath was completely knocked out of me and I lay gasping for breath. I clenched my fist to my chest and closed my eyes. My mind racing, I realized something that would forever be instilled in my mind and heart.

You lied.

Accident.

There are some people in your life you'll never forget. It doesn't matter if you meet them in a store or at a party, in passing or through a friend, or even in a dream. The people you meet in dreams actually have a stronger impact for me than real people do. By impact, I mean they make me realize things people in my "real" life wouldn't. Probably because it has to do with the fact dreams come from subconsious emotions and thoughts and shit like that.

I woke up drenched in cold sweat shaking uncontrolably. I threw off my sweatshirt and peeled off my socks. I collected my sheets and looked at the clock. 2:46 am. Fuck. Why the hell did I wake up this early? Wait, even better question, what woke me?

I walked downstairs and put a kettle of water on. I found a dry shirt and pair of shorts to change into and walked into the bathroom. My reflection shocked me for a minute. My hair was slightly frizzy, there were dark circles under my eyes, and my skin was milk white.

Walking back into the kitchen I grabbed a bag of tea and put it in a cup. The kettle let out a loud siren and a vision of ambulances and firetrucks came to mind. Shaking it off, I pulled down the sugar and put two heaping spoonfuls into my cup. I poured the hot water, slowly stirring watching the steam rise off of the cup. In the steam I saw a hood of a car, smashed into itself with glass everywhere. I shuffled over to a barstool and sat down.

I slowly inhaled the aroma of the tea and relaxed. My muscles were killing me for some odd reason. Realizing I couldn't get comfortable sitting on a wooden stool, I walked into the living room and sat on the couch. As soon as I sat down, another flash of red, blue, and white lights flew across my mind. The more I got these visions more more frighten I became that I missed something important.

I closed me eyes and tried to bring back whatever my dream was before I woke up. After about 10 minutes of struggling to bring back the dream, I gave up. It was hard, apparently my mind didn't want me to bring it back.

Almost immediately after giving up, it came to me.

I was sitting in the car with what must have been a boyfriend, because I was holding his hand. He must have said something funny, because I laughed and said, "I love you Mike" and squeezed his hand. He turned an smiled at me and as the words "I love you too" came out of his mouth, a car slammed into the driver side door. I could see the trees and the road and the shattered glass all mold into one green/grey blob floating around. Red goo splattered my face as I tried reaching for Mike while screaming his name.

When I was actually aware of my surroundings, I could hear sirens. Lights were all over the place, and I could feel vibrations from the car. I saw legs of at least 6 people running around as I started to panic.

"Help.....me. Help..."

I began crying and reaching for Mike. The car was upside down. I couldn't move, and there was a searing pain in my left leg. Not wanting to be alone, I began to fiddle with everything. The buckles, door handles, anything that could be my way out.

"Someone grab a backboard, trama shears, and spider straps now!"

What sounded like a saw was in my right ear. A few sparks flew and I passed out.

When I woke up, a woman was standing over me in the back of an ambulance. She was pushing the hair off my neck and feeling for a pulse. Her hands were cold, but I was just happy that I could feel the temperature difference. She must have seen my eyes darting around because she grabbed my hand.

"Listen, it's okay. I'm Sam. I'm going to take care of you. You're in an ambulance, we're on the way to the hospital. You're doing fine, but I'm going to have to ask you to keep looking at me. Stay awake, stay with me."

I did what I thought was a nod, and stared at her. Two other people were near my legs looking very stressed and very scared.

We got the hospital and I tried to ask about Mike. I wasn't being too clear and Sam looked at me with a confused face.

"Don't worry about it. Everything that happened will be explained in time. You just need to worry about you. You need to get better. You're a good person, this wasn't supposed to happen now. This is a strengthening experience. I'm here for you."

This is the point where I woke up.

I know exactly what it meant.

Fuck. I love you too.

Music.

I sat in the car on a way home from a very long trip. Red, blue, white, green, black blurs all flew past my rain-splattered window. I sat in kind of a trance with my iPod on as loud as it could go, thinking about how things had played out over the past couple months. Plently of things have happened, most of them horrific or upsetting. No need to rationalize it, it happened weither I like it or not. Sitting there thinking about everything and nothing was a greater comfort than my bed or my friends and family had been in a long time. To many things had happened to try and talk to anyone about it. It was slightly depressing, but music had always been my excape. Sitting there listening to my music and being able to think about things put me at peace, at least temporarily. Flipping ahead a few songs I noticed a beginning to a song I didn't remember.

"I just remembered that time at the market...."

What song was this? I didn't remember listening to it before, but then I have a habit of putting random songs on my iPod just to have them there.

"...Snuck up behind me and jumped on my shopping cart and rode down isle 5..."..

Suddenly I was drawn into this song. I was no more than two lines into it and I felt a connection with it, as if it was explaining something to me that I wasn't getting.

"...You looked behind you to smile back at me crashed into a rack of magazines, they asked us to leave..."

My heart starting to slowy ache, the pain eponentially growing as I could feel my pulse slowing to the beat of the music. My fingers and toes started to lose feeling, which I can only imagine was the result of the lack of blood flow. Subconsciously my mind was making my body actually bind with the song, truly making it absorb the meaning carefully the first time.

"...Can't remember, what went wrong last September, though I'm sure you's remind me, if you had to..."

As far as I could tell, I wasn't breathing anymore. My knees slowly came to my chest as I reclined my seat back and pulled my travel blanket up and tucked it under my chin. I crammed the pillow between the seat and the door, and I burrowed my face into it. A searing pain was forcing my eyes to close, and I knew had I opened them, I would start crying.

"... Our love was, comfortable and, so broken in."

The car jolted, as I was momentarily tossed into what was really around me. I hit the pause button, in an effort to be more aware of my surrounding. Flashing lights caught my attention, but we had already passed most the commotion. I stretched, trying to regain feeling in my fingers enough to have function. As soon as I hit the "play" button, the song flooded my body again, as if coursing through my veins.

"I sleep with this new girl, I'm stilling getting used to.
My friends all approve, say "She's gonna be good for you".
They throw me, high fives.
She says the Bible is all that she reads, and prefers that I not use profantity.
Your mouth was, so dirty.
Life of the party, and swears that she's artsy.
But you could distinguish miles from Coltrane.
Our love was comfortable and so broken in.
She's perfect, so flawless.
Or so they say, say.
She thinks I can't see the smile that she's faking.
And posed for pictures that aren't being taken.
I loved you grey sweatpants, no make up, so perfect.
Our love was comfortable and so broken in.
She's prefect, so flawless, I'm not impressed
I want you back."

I then knew the connection my subconsious was making. It was our song. Not the song we danced to or referenced constantly. I don't think you even know this song. But still, it was it. We broke up months ago, and my mind had gotten over it, but my heart hadn't.

You loved me in sweats and no make up. I curse like a sailor, and it was the day we were messing with carts at the grocery store that you told me that.

The song is: "Comfortable" by John Mayer.

Clarification.

Just some clarification for anyone who reads this:
There are and will be several names used in this blog.
None of which are actual names of anyone I know.
They are simply characters, and I might even switch up who's got what name.
So, don't try and figure who is who and what not.
These are simply stories, things that I make up for the fun of it.
And please, don't draw conclusions as to anything.

Frisbee.

I lay on the couch. That couch. The one with over sized pillows, the one with not enough room to lie down on, the one we spent our summer learning each other on. I can still smell your smell stuck in the pillows and to the side of the couch you sat on. My side has no smell, not like yours.

I lay my head down, face forward into the pillow and take a deep breath. Immediately I am thrown into memories of tossing frisbees, buttercups, fishing poles, firecrackers, and techno. All those obnoxious laughter filled memories.

“You throw it like this.”
“I can’t do this; I fail at life.”
“You most certainly do not fail at life. You know why?”
“No… wanna blow my mind and tell me?”
"Because you are the most amazing part of my life. If you fail, my life must suck."
"Hmph."

I hate this couch.

Hammocks.

In the middle of the mountains, there was a lake.



But before that....

Mike, his family, and I packed two cars up with camping supplies. Sleeping bags, tents, blankets, insect repellant, you name it we packed it. We drove a about an hour to this little white house in the middle of a gaint field surrounded by mountains, tall hay, horses, and water. It looked like a picture out of a magazine. We spent the better part of the afternoon in a canoe with fishing poles trying to catch non-existant fish, but only succeeding in getting bait all over us. While he pulled the canoe out of the water and put it up, I stalked all the miniature frogs and grabbed them up. He walked over, placed a hand on my back, picked up my fishing pole and proceeded to walk me up the hill. In the front yard overlooking the lake, stood two trees with a hammock between them.

Seeming like the right thing to do, we got into the hammock and started to watch the sun set. A beautiful, curly blonde haired, blue eyed, little girl ran over to us throwing her arms up wanting to be picked up. I pulled her up, and placed her between Mike and me. We played with her, amusing her with blades of grass, bugs, stories. She eventually grew tired and fell asleep. Afraid of waking her, Mike and I decided to stay put and talk. I gently tucked a loose curl behind the little girl's ear and watched her sleep.

"I love little kids... I can't wait until I have kids of my own."
"Kids of our own."
"What?"
"You know, after we get married."
"Get married?"
"After college... We'll have a beautiful daughter; she'll look just like you."

Mike looked at me with such sincerity it made my eyes water. Never in my life had someone been so serious about something like that. It was years away. Maybe even a decade away. Too many variables had to be added in to come to that conculsion. But he genuinely meant it.

"I don't think I'll love someone as much as I love you until I get married."
"That's going against what you just said."
"Well, if you and I don't get married, that's what is going to happen."
"Yea, yea. You'll love other people."
"Let's get engaged."
"Love, no. Let's make it through a couple more years before we do that."

The little girl woke up, looking around as if she didn't recognize her own front yard. She stood up, smiled, and ran playfully off to find her puppy. We watched her go, then settled back to watch the sun start to fade behind the mountains. The raincloud above us broke, causing rain to fall all around us. Luckily the trees that held the hammock where very dense with leaves, which kept u safe from the rather large droplets. Mike pulled me closer, and ran his hand up and down my arm.

"I love you; you'll never know how much."

On the inside (Pt. 2)

In the time we spent staring at each other, I never felt so connected with another person. I studied his face, memorizing every minute detail. He has one dimple in his left cheek, freckles so light you wouldn't notice them at first glance, eyes that change from a warm hazel around the pupil to a light green to the purest blue. There was a wrinkle in between his eyebrows from furrowing them so often. The way his eyes softened and almost opened up to me still sends chills down my spine.

"You really don't have to worry about it."
"But what if I want to?"
"You don't. It had nothing to do with you; I didn't even know you."
"But I understand."

I'll never know what was going through his mind or what he saw when he looked at me. What I do know is that the conversation we had is one I'll never forget. As I went to sit next to him, I watched his body language change. It went from one of tense, worriedness to relaxed. I sat next to him, gently stratching the top of his hand, he leaned over and kissed me. Nohthing special, just on the cheek. He brushed my hair behind my ear and went back to staring across the room at the chair I previously sat in. I looked from his face to his hand to the floor repeatedly, trying to understand and figure out what just happened.

"Chris..."
"I know."
"....Then...."
"No idea."

We looked each other square in the eye. It was an immediate understanding, he knew what I wanted and I knew what he needed.

"It can't go like this. It just can't."
"It'll be okay, don't worry."
"No, I can't do this."
"Hey, listen to me. It'll be okay."

He stood up, looking down at me. Slowly he turned his back to me and started up the stairs. I see the lights go off and hear the door open and close.

The next thing I know I'm grabbing my jacket and running out the door.

As I lie in my bed it comes to my attention that my phone is lighting up every minute or so. I grab it and flip it open, then stop dead.

“I just… can’t.”

On the inside (Pt. 1)

Walking past the dew covered car my breaths start to become shaky. The deep breaths I took only reassured me that my nerves are really gut feelings. I bent down and quickly grab the key hidden under the mat. I stood up and looked at the key and then the doorknob. I zoned out, noticing the insignificant details of the night. The air was damp, and smelled like recently cut grass. A dim light in the corner of my eye brought me back to the porch. Not knowing what I would walk in to find, I shoved the key in the lock and turned.

“Hello?”
“…I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You and me both.”

He stood there mostly hidden by the darkness. I entered the living room, looking around, taking in the scene. Two couches, a couple chairs, a television, his gaming system, game cases and more halfway eaten sandwiches than there ever needed to be. Obviously no one cared how he kept his space. He led me down into the basement, and took a seat on the couch. I chose the chair directly across from him and pulled my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. We sit staring at each other for the better part of an hour. I slowly stand up and walk over to him. I nimbly sit down and take his hand. It was then that I understood him. No words needed to be spoken, no explanations needed. Just feeding off each other’s energy was enough to sustain us.
A conversation started ranging from our extreme dislikes to what we loved, experiences that made us stronger, when we felt the most vulnerable. He promised me the things he said I wouldn’t understand for years to come, but one day it would all come crashing down upon me like some great epiphany. Learn from his mistakes, come to him when I needed help, to trust him.

The next thing I know I’m grabbing my jacket and running out the door.



As I lie in my bed it comes to my attention that my phone is lighting up every minute or so. I grab it and flip it open, then stop dead.

“I just… can’t.”

One of the decisions.

"Are you drunk?"
"I might be."
"Then I'm going to disregard everything you're saying."
"No, I know what I'm saying, and I mean it."
"You can't, you're drunk."
"I said I might be, and I know what I'm saying."
"The things you're saying shouldn't be coming from you. You know that."
"I KNOW what I'm saying, I mean them and they're true. Trust me."
"Then prove it."



An hour later I'm sitting in bed not watching, but staring at the television. My cell phone vibrates off my pillow flashing lights and displaying "1 New Message - Chris". My heart skips a beat. I feel the blood rush to my face and hands as I stare at the phone. The screen disappears, but the light is still flashing. Red, green, orange, red, green, orange. I reach for the phone praying to whatever higher power there is that it says what I want it to say. I flip the phone open rereading the prompt telling me I have a new message. I contemplate hitting the review button. I shut the phone, clinging to the railing as I slowly walk myself down the stairs. I make it to the bottom and collapse on the last stair. Staring blankly at the wall, I realize I need to read it. I reopen the phone, click the button, and am instantly paralyzed.

"I'll be home in 15 minutes. I'll prove it."

This was ten minutes ago. I my mind races about the same speed I do around my room throwing myself together trying to look like I didn't care about how I looked. As I stop to take a breath I grab my hair, look around franticly wondering what the hell I'm about to do. I make my way back to the stairs I just collapsed on. I ponder whether or not the next climb would be one of my better decisions.

I climb them, feeling as though I'm climbing Mount Everest. I pull on my jacket, slip on my shoes, and walk calmly out the front door. I make it to his front porch before I actually understand what I'm about to do.

Two hours later I walk out of his house, phyiscally and emotionally the same person I went in as.

Mentally, I'll never be the same.

The beginning.

I sat there, eagerly watching out the window while carefully balancing on the sill. The rain fell steadily as I ran my hand down the window. The fifteen minute wait felt as though it was taking hours. I watched the headlights slowly round the corner and fall down the hill, casting an almost eerie light over the glistening grass. The blinker cuts on, a small black car pulls into the drive. I sit and wait a moment, watching the person in the car collecting themself and stare blankly into the night. The car shuts off, I see them take a deep breath, the door opens, and there he stands.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?"
"Can you honestly say that you love me?"
"I can."
"Then, yes. I've never been so certain."
"As long as you feel comfortable."
"Love, I've never been so comfortable with anyone in my life."

A year later, I sit balancing myself in the same sill, looking out the same window. I watch several cars round the same corner, fall down the hill and emitt an evenly dispersed light over the road, banks, and grass. I realize now that when I said I had never been so comfortable with someone in my life, I honestly meant it. Not only I was comfortable in the sense that I was sure you were the one, the one that was different, the one that was supposed to complete me; I was comfortable living day to day knowing that when I started to feel lonely you would be right there. There's been something missing for the better portion of the past 6 months. It's like a puzzle that has lost one of it's pieces.



Today, I threw the puzzle away.