Imagine

Are you ready

To fly?

Like the boy

Who escaped time

Like the man

With the hook

Like the fairy

Chiming

Above their heads?

Are you ready

To sing?

Like the girl

Captured by

The beast

Under a spell

Like the pots and pans

Dancing

Through the castle?

Are you ready

To wish?

Like the boy

With the lamp

And the genie

laughing gaily

Like the magic carpet

Soaring

To whole new worlds?

Are you ready?

I'm On My Way

I'm on my way

I'm trying harder

I'll make it some day

I'll show them how

Cause you're on my mind

But I'm running out of time

I'm fighting the good fight

I'm pushing it farther

I've got you in my sights

I've given this my all

Cause you're on my mind

But I'm running out of time

I'm confident and sure

I'm holding my head high

I'm quiet and demure

I'm taking this time for you

Cause you're on my mind

But I'm running out of time

I'm running out of time

I'm taking far too long

I've got you on my mind

I've got to find a way

Cause you're on my mind

But I'm running out of time

The Shadow's Shadow

While Jaz Hawk sat in her fancy apartment, I ran out into the night. I was kind of laughing at Jaz's face, but a big part of me was really disappointed. I thought her better than that; I thought her memory acute and above average.

I thought she would have remembered me.

It hasn't been that long since I last saw her. Not really. I have changed a lot, but, you see, we were both recruited by the government about four years ago. That would have made Jaz only seventeen; I was nineteen. We both lived in the same town, but we went to different schools, and before we were recruited we had never seen each other.

When the agents first came to me, I would have to say I was scared witless. I thought for sure they were going to lock me up--for reasons unknown to me--but they just wanted to talk. To a teenage college student, though, 'just talk' means 'get you in trouble.' I freaked and ran.

Needless to say, they caught me within a couple minutes. I mean, you can only sneak out the bathroom window and run off if your window is NOT fifty feet off the ground with nothing to break your fall except the ground. So yeah, they got me. I don't know why they still wanted me after that ridiculous stunt...I was such an idiot at that age. Still kind of am, I suppose.

They 'talked' to me, though. They actually talked. They recruited me, and within a day I was on my way to their headquarters in Nowhere, I-can't-tell-you-where. There, I met Jaz, who was in the same situation I was. We were both treated very well, and given the best training anyone could ask for.

Within three years, we became some of the top operatives our age. We also became like brother and sister in those three years. But then Jaz turned twenty.

That's when Jaz decided she wanted to follow a different path. That's when the agency literally went down in flames, and that's when we found out that only someone on the inside could kill someone on the inside.

That's when I was left holding my dead boss while Jaz ran away from the sunset, seeking something more.

Authority

They say

Follow

But we turn

And walk away

They say

Conform

But we change

And walk away

They say

Submit

But we rebel

And walk away

They say

Give

But we take

And walk away

They say

Quiet

But we shout

And walk away

They say

Sit

But we stand

And walk away

They say

Honor

But we laugh

And walk away

He says

Respect

But we spit

And walk away

He says

Love

But we scorn

And walk away

He says

Take

But we refuse

And walk away

He gives

Life

But we choose

To walk away

Outside

You are the only thing I never knew I wanted

And I'm thinking that it's just not right

But you can change my mind; I leave it open

My heart on my sleeve, my head in my hands

They're there for you, if you seek them

Just search a little harder, little deeper

You're aiming for something on the surface that isn't there

It's not open to you, not yet; try harder

That's what they always tell me; run faster

But I'm shooting for the stars, and honestly

I think you're settling for the moon

You can do better than this, better than me

Just look a little farther, pray a little more

I know you're on your knees tonight

You're looking from the outside, like I used to

But now we've switched sides and I'm inside

I can see you looking at me, and I know

But I can't bring myself to let you know

So tell me, will you speak your mind

I want to know if you're going to keep running,

Keep searching, keep going and going

I want to know if I can change anything here

So even though my head says yes yes yes

My heart says no, no, I can't do this

And I knew I didn't need this, so why do you think

That it's what is right here, what is right to you

Why do we have differing views

On the same important things

So Together

When I see

You two

Sitting there, so together

I can't help

But be

Jealous

How does it feel

When he holds you?

When he

Wraps his arms

Around you

And kisses you like that?

How does it feel

When he touches you?

When he

Strokes your cheek

And kisses

Your neck so softly?

When I see

The way

You laugh, so together

I can't help

But be

Sad

How does it feel

When he tells that joke?

When he

Makes your sides split

With that

Wonderful smile?

How does it feel

When he gazes at you?

When he

Stares right at you

And makes

You laugh so hard?

When I see

That light

Between you, so together

I can't help

But be

Lonely

The Shadow's Target

Tom Symcox was anything but ordinary, as his first name suggested. On the contrary; he was rather complex. His friends were as crazy as he was, and they all got along quite well. He had met and joined a great group at Yale. As a double major, he hadn't had a lot of time in school to hang out, but after he graduated, his friends become almost as important as his work for the Fortune 500 company. Some of his friends wondered how he had managed to get a business job when he had majored in psych and philosophy; he credited the name of his college. Although he didn't specialize in anything business-y, he definitely knew enough about it to work in that area.

As an athlete, Tom had played every sport there was to play. His favorite was rugby, but basketball was a close second. At Yale, he had joined the basketball team and pulled them through an entire championship his senior year. As much as he loved sports, though, he was more serious about his career, and so opted to get a 'real' job rather than try to join an NBA team. Though he was good at ball, he wasn't that good, and he didn't mind giving up a kindergarten dream to pursue a more realistic future in the neck-and-neck, dog-eat-dog business world.

That was one of the reasons he owed money to the Falcon. Tom's family wasn't well off, and his parent's couldn't afford to rent an apartment for him near Yale. He had met the right people freshman year, taken a couple trips to New York, gotten in a little deep, and continued digging. They had introduced him to the world of lenders, and after he had graduated (with the Falcon's aid, of course), he had moved to New York City itself. There he rented a flat and started applying for jobs. He had spent nearly a year unemployed, all the while borrowing money from the Falcon to keep his ritzy apartment.

After a long year, Tom was offered a job--a good one, too. He had accepted it on the spot, started a week later, and within a few months had enough money to support himself again. Within another year, he had enough money to pay the Falcon back and keep himself well above the poverty line. He moved out of his apartment and into an even bigger, nicer flat.

But he never paid the Falcon back.

This was how Tom's mind worked: Either they will forget, or I will take them on. I can pay them back, but I would rather not, and outsmarting these people is more fun than I've had in years.

Then one of Tom's best friends died.

Correction: one of Tom's best friends was murdered.

Tom had gone to school with Richard Vann. He had taken half of his classes with Vann; they were both philosophy majors. Vann's sudden murder was a shock to everyone who knew him. He was found in an alley, face forward, a bullet in his brain. Whoever had killed him had been clean and quick. Most thought that it was petty theft that had left Vann dead in the street. Tom knew better.

Vann had borrowed from the Falcon as well. Like most college students, Vann had struggled to find enough financial aid to get through college. He had been with Tom when they visited New York years before. He had met the proprietor of the Falcon; he had walked away with enough money to keep him in ramen for years, just as Tom had.

The Falcon had sent someone after Vann.This confirmed Tom's fears; someone was, indeed, following him. Though he hadn't been back to the Falcon since the day he borrowed money, he walked past the up-town club every week. He saw the people walking in and out of the building.

Most importantly, he had seen the girl with the briefcase. The same night that Vann was murdered, he had seen the sunglass-clad girl leave the club, and he had followed her. He had seen the man sneak out of her apartment, and he knew that she was important.

He knew that she was dangerous.

Passion

The more I learn, the less I know

I think I'm soaring, but I'm sitting low

I shoot for the stars, but land on the moon

I wanted to go far, but I landed too soon

The more I learn, the less I know

I'm running upstream, against the flow

I'm cursing the wind, I'm fighting my fate

I'm falling too hard, I'm not going to wait

The more I learn, the less I know

I'm pushing too hard, but I'm going too slow

I'm trying to hard, but I always fail

I'm tasting life, but it always seems stale

The more I learn, the less I know

I understand nothing, and answers forgo

I search for answers, I dance with fire

I turn the world upside down, and I never tire

Bad Day Lyrics

Call me weird, but I think this song is so great. I don't know what it is; the sound and the somewhat cryptic lyrics all blend together to make a sadly happy song. When I AM having a bad day, this song always come to mind. Hope you guys enjoy it...

Where is the moment we needed the most
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
They tell me your blue skies fade to gray
They tell me your passion's gone away
And I don't need no carryin' on

You stand in the line just to hit a new low
You're faking a smile with the coffee you go
You tell me your life's been way off line
You're falling to pieces every time
And I don't need no carryin' on

Because you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Will you need a blue sky holiday?
The point is they laugh at what you say
And I don't need no carryin' on

You had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day

Sometimes the system goes on the blink
And the whole thing turns out wrong
You might not make it back and you know
That you could be well oh that strong
And I'm not wrong

So where is the passion when you need it the most
Oh you and I
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
You've seen what you like
And how does it feel for one more time
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

What a Day...

I trip

HELLO!

The ground is a bit hard this morning.

As per usual.

I climb to my feet

Now I'm sore.

This is going to be a good day.

Off to a great start.

I take another step

Stubbed toe.

That's fun. For some.

Keep moving.

The person in front of me stops

I crash

"Beware of careless...walking."

Books everywhere.

I rush to get everything together

WIND!

Oh no...this is going to take forever.

Goodbye, homework...

I bend to pick up my assignments

CONK.

Ow. Head. Hurting.

Hey, random guy.

He helps gather my books

"Hey."

I'm blushing. That's weird.

"Ehh...huh....hi."

I'm such a dork

I can't talk.

I look so dumb and klutzy.

A smile.

I'm beet red now

"Coffee, later?"

Ohmygosh. Did he just--?

Yes. Please.

Is this my white knight

Right here?

I halfway expect a horse.

Not so much.

I smile back, happier

"Sure thing!"

There, I can talk again!

Skip away.

I'm whispering his name

Happily.

I didn't realize before...

Now I know, eh?

Shadows Future

Jaz was left stunned. The man had come from nowhere, and left as quickly as if he were a shadow. She couldn’t remember what he looked like; there had been nothing truly special about him, nothing shocking or interesting. He had been plain-looking, ordinary. A pavement artist in every way. Who was he?

Jaz had only met one person like him before. She couldn’t remember the other man’s name, couldn’t remember why she knew of him, only remembered being introduced, shaking his hand, and then later watching him closely. He intrigued her; he had a natural genius to him that she struggled to understand. Who was he? Was this man like the man she had met, so long ago that she could barely remember it?

And why had he talked to her?

Most of all, how did he know her last name? She had gone to great lengths to keep her last name hidden. It was only known to her boss. Even he didn’t know her full name.

Jaz kicked herself. The man had seen the money, the gun, and her apartment! She ran into the hall and looked up and down. The elevator was silent, there were no echoes from the stairwell, and not a thing moved. There wasn’t even a breeze left, as there usually is when someone rushes out of someplace.

The man had disappeared as easily as Jaz did at the club. He had been unnoticed, and when people don’t notice something they don’t ask questions. Jaz knew it would be futile to ask the manager and the doorman if they had seen him. No one would see him, unless he wanted them to. So why had he wanted to Jaz to see him?

Too much to digest. Time for a little light reading.

Jaz walked back into the room slowly and locked the door behind her. She walked over to the couch where she had thrown her stuff and picked up the folder the boss had handed her.

“Tom Symcox. Interesting…” she browsed through the information in front of her, marveling at the man’s ability to elude the business’s two best operatives. “Guess that makes me the best now, huh…” Jaz mumbled to herself.

“6’3, brown hair, blue eyes, ooh! Cute face. Of course. I get to take care of the cute ones. Hmm. Athletic. Duh. Graduated from Yale—damn! Double major. Psychology and philosophy. Really? Chess team. Weird…athletic and nerdy. Well, sheesh. This oughta be fun. I hope this guy puts up more of a chase than that wimpy Vann guy did. What a loser…”

Jaz’s eyes jumped over the pages of info, appraising the man, his lifestyle, and his every move. “Works for…a Fortune 500 company. Who’d a thunk. Makes a butt-load of money. Why does this guy owe us? He makes bank…ohhh. Living a little beyond his means. Or did…it looks like he has enough to pay boss back now. Why doesn’t he? Probably enjoys the thrill of the run as much as I like the chase.” Her eyes sparkled menacingly when she thought of how enjoyable this task would be; cat and mouse was her forte, but bird of prey was her absolute favorite. Swooping on unsuspecting victims was such an adrenaline rush.

But then, that came with the name. She was a Hawk, after all.

Shadows Present

The briefcase was unusually heavy today. Jaz knew without opening it that there was something in the case that was completely unrelated to money. She knew it wasn't dangerous; her sixth sense was sniffing out danger from half a mile away. Besides, bombs and the like were usually lighter. She knew this from experience.

When she got back to her three-room New York flat, she threw her keys and shades on the couch and sat in a soft leather armchair. She turned the dials on the case, unlocking it, and threw the top open. Inside lay neat rows of bills; almost half the dead man's debt. Each of the bills was crisp, and the money was tied into $100 bundles.

A smile tickled the corners of Jaz's mouth and she set the case down on the coffee table before her. She rooted carefully through the bills, counting them while looking for the source of the weight. When she found it, Jaz grew dangerously close to laughing.

It was a gun.

Not just any gun. This was a special gun, a gun Jaz thought she had lost almost three years ago. Her smile turned quickly into a frown, however, and she stood up quickly, the gun sitting comfortably in her hands, aiming at the man behind her.

"Whoa!" the man cried.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Jaz tossed her head, throwing hair into her eyes to cover them from the stranger.

"Um, sorry, didn't mean to intrude..." The man's eyes were shifting all across the room, taking in the keys on the couch, the heavy shades, and the briefcase. His curiosity was not lost on Jaz and she waved him towards the door with the gun point.

"Get going!"

The man moved slowly, suddenly intent on Jaz's face and not at all concerned with the gun pointed at his head.

"Maintenance," he said calmly. "Do I know you?"

Jaz stared straight at him for a moment, then laughed flatly. "Doubt it. You know many people with a gun license that actually talk to 'maintenance men'?" Her voice was harsh.

"My bad!" The man shrugged, holding back a laugh, and turned to leave.

Jaz lowered her gun slowly, shaking. How had the man gotten in without her noticing? Had he been here the whole time?

Suddenly the man whipped around. "Oh, by the way, Hawk. Might want to go to a different bank this time. The old one's getting suspicious."

"How do you--"

"Shh. I wasn't here." The man winked, and just like that, he was gone.

Skeleton Trees

Branches

Scratching the sky

Like claws

Searching for a grip

The wind tosses them

And they laugh at the futility

Roots firm, unmoving

Solid

Dark, dark against the sky

In profile with the sunset

They are the guardians

Of the sky and ground alike

Never moving

Unshakable fathers

Of the world

Of the air

They stand

Witness

To you and me

No life

To the naked eye

But look

Closer

They reach their jagged fingers

To the sky

And it responds

Sending rain

And with rain

Life

Aching

The days are long

Nights, cruel

Thoughts are harsh

Memories, worse

Faces blend together

Names, disappearing

Pictures mean nothing

Words, even less

The horror piles up

Stories, overwhelming

Blood soaks through

Sweat, pouring

Harder you push

Faster, farther

Slower you go

Weakened, now

Time crawls on

Knees, aching

Muscles crying

Loud, painful

But still waiting

Forever, never

Holding back

Tears, agony

Pulling yourself

Open, exposed

Flesh tearing

Raw, unnerved

Waiting for the end

Somehow, grasping

A ledge of hope

Hanging, gasping

Is this enough now

Here, holding

The future uncertain

Shaky, rocky

Reach out

Above, light

Hands stretched

Heavenward, praying

Life From the Passenger Side

Staring out the windows,

I watch the world pass.

This road is my life, and

I'm not driving myself.

I watch the fields and

The forests fall away;

Rolling hills lifting,

Valleys hindering me.

Every new scene is

Bright and beautiful,

But there's something

In every shadow.

I'm scared to death

That I'll never see

What's hiding there,

But I can't bear to know.

As the days zip past

My rear view mirror,

I think I can see Him--

The driver of my car.

He is watching me

As He watches the road;

Fully alert and in love

With what He sees.

He sees my fear and

He comforts me, and

I fall asleep safe here

In His warm caress.

He eyes the shadows

And they retreat,

Scared to death of

Death Himself here.

He reaches His hand

And I grasp it, now

Completely sure that

My road is straight.

Though narrow,

The way is right.

The light shines

And I am alive.

Shadows Past

Jaz was trained in secrecy. She knew every way to hide, every shadow to slip into. She knew how to blend in with a crowd, and she knew how to stick out.

Jaz knew what it was to be completely alone in a crowd of people.

With her shades on, Jaz looked like an average New York citizen. She knew the back-ways, the alleys, the clubs that were perfect if she needed to get out of sight. She could walk a million miles in the highest stilettos and not feel a thing. She could walked with heels and not make a sound. In short, Jaz was a pavement artist of epic proportions.

With her sunglasses on.

With her sunglasses off, however, Jaz was a different person. Her eyes scared most; those who didn't run from her gaze were either dead or used to her. When Jaz pushed her shades up on top of her head and pinned back her hair, her cold eyes pierced rooms and hearts alike.

Jaz's eyes were silver.

Not pure silver, of course. They were slightly shadowed, darker towards her irises, and sprinkled with gold flakes. The most striking thing about her eyes, however, was their age. Her eyes had seen things that no human should ever see. She had watched with cool indifference as her own firing had killed men; she had watched blood seep into the pavement. She had watched businessmen scream as they fell from stories-tall building; she had pushed them.

Jaz's dark past was cast in silver in her eyes. Only two emotions were left to her; greed and loneliness.

Life's Paints

Using her words as paints

And her tongue as a brush,

She begins the process of

Covering a canvas in color.

With every new sentence,

More shape is given and

The painting comes on slowly.

Her living, breathing passion

Forms the brightest of suns--

Yellows, oranges, reds together.

Her fears, tears, and her pain

Give shadows to the world--

Blues, grays, blacks, purples.

She speaks longingly of loves

And adds shades of hope there--

Pinks, blues, greens; vibrancy.

As she tells of her hopes and

Her fears for the coming future,

A scene appears on the canvas

Of a long, winding path.

It's simple and brownish but

It catches the eye and ear.

This path is most important

To the girl with the brush.

She dips into her soul to

Find the wondrous paints,

And shows to the world

Her life, love, imagination.

Her canvas is covered now

And her brush is set aside;

Her story is painted,

Her painting is told.

One Fire

Raging winds bite the earth

Digging in fangs that thirst for something more

Pushing trees to one side

Laughing at the misery of leaves in constant torment

One thing too many rubs against the dry ground

A tiny jubilant spark springs forth

It dances merrily against the wind

It spreads; it divides and conquers

It overtakes the wind and the two become one

Flying together around the dry world

Wreaking havoc, killing all

The desolation of one fire is terrible

The pain it can cause if you get too close

It burns and it eats away

Anything in its path is a dance floor

It stomps and romps and whistles as it goes

Never caring what the next obstacle is

This is the power of only one fire

What I Didn't Do

I'm sorry

For what I didn't do

For things I couldn't help

I'm sorry

That you're caught up in this

That you were left behind

I'm sorry

For getting so involved

For getting so blindsided

I'm sorry

That you just had to stand there

That you couldn't stop it

I'm sorry

For putting myself here

For not stopping what I could

I'm sorry

That I broke your heart

That I let you fall unchecked

I'm sorry

For not stepping in

For not holding you back

I'm sorry

That it was me instead

That I can't change the impossible

I'm sorry

For not thinking ahead

For what is clear now

I'm sorry

That I didn't do anything

That I had no control

I'm sorry

For what I didn't do

For things I couldn't help

I'm sorry

That I can't fix it

I'm sorry

That I'm sorry

Stars Among Us

As I wander this earth, weary and forlorn,

I stop in strange cities to view the sights.

I smell the air and inhale such wonders--

And this is when I realize

There are stars among us.

As their faces pass me by, I stop and stare.

I feel their confidence, their grace, their selflessness.

I talk to them and they smile and laugh,

And I feel like a friend

To the stars among us.

When they pass, they nod, always friendly.

They are like us in every way but one;

They are defnding me while I stand idly by,

And I feel so awed

By the stars among us.

When they take their own precious time to act

They leave their mark on this smoothed-over world.

They lend their hands to those in all walks of life,

And never tire,

These stars among us.

They are the firemen,

the policemen,

the soldiers,

the friends.

They are the stars among us.

To The Moon

Bright

Shining above me

Luminescent ball of hope

Spreading light on good and evil alike

Lighting the paths in

The darkest hours

Friend

Of shadows and men

Giving the world a soft gleam

Smiling down on the sleeping souls here

Shading a few but

Enlightening others

O Moon!

You light these pages

As my pen darkens them

You light my path as my feet cover it

You see us all at our

Weakest hour

Shine

Through my broken window

Through my shattered pain

Through my life's deceiving mask

Through my troubled sleep

Through my night

Light

My coming dreams

This twisted path of thought

The days drag on but nights are short

When you shine down the darkness's

Menacing face fades

Left

It hurts less every day

But that scar still remains

That hole in my heart

Won't ever fade away

I opened up to you

And I thought I was safe

You were just along for the ride

I made myself into your fool

The grass was so green

And the blue sky so clear

When we started this drive

But it was all just a dream

Now that piece of myself

I presented with love

It's been opened and left

It sits alone on that shelf

I used to cry at night

Trying to use my tears

To feel whole again but

Now I think I never might

But my tears have faded

Just like that horrible scar

The hole will never fill

I'm left feeling hated

I fell for you so hard

And for a while I thought

You loved me, too

But my perceptions are marred

You let me fall far

And it tore me apart

You left a deep gash

And you never felt sorry

But I'm slowly healing

Picking up the pieces

Starting all over again

And numbing the feelings

To My Friends :)

So having your wisdom teeth taken out does things to you. Let me tell you, painkillers are WEIRD. They make me tired and wired and itchy and hot and restless all at the same time. Man, I could sleep forEVER. Or at least that's what I say. Last night was a bit rough, though.

Being awake at 3 in the morning makes you think. You probably know this. Gosh, I so badly wanted to write, but I was shaking and in pain and I just couldn't get myself out of my warm bed. So here's what I remember from my restlessness last night:

1. I miss my friends. :)

2. I never want to have oral surgery EVER again.

3. My cheeks are more puffy than a chipmunks. No, sorry, no pictures.

4. I miss writing, and even when I feel this bad, I want to all the time.

5. Being tired all the time provides ample opportunity for awesome, book-inspiring dreams.

6. As much as I hate stress, I really do love school.

7. I am a procrastinator, and I forgot to bring a couple assignments home with me.

8. Netflix is the best thing ever if you feel like this.

That's about all I can remember. But yeah...

I am inspired by you guys. Thanks for keeping me in your prayers this week. I love you!

Also, Zephaniah 3:17.

I Know I Know

The sun is hidden behind a haze

And I can't see to get to you

No I can't seem to get through

This horrible hindering worldly maze

I know

I know

You're here

So near

Hold out your hand to me

And I will search through the pressing dark

Even though I'm sure to miss my mark

Because I cannot ever see

I know

I know

You're here

So near

Dear, I'm waiting at the door

I can feel the shadows so close

Inches away--a foot at the most

Their feet pound on the dirty floor

I know

I know

You're here

So near

But your grasp feels weak

And you act so distant

You seem so resistant

My sightless hands are seeking

I know

I know

You're here

So near

So save me

Pull me into your gaze

Out of this awful, dark haze

Open my heart--only you have the key

But Inside

I act so strong but
Inside I'm so weak
I fight the world away
But secretly long for it
I am independent but
Not without you near
I carry a strong sword
But to me it's so heavy
I shoulder my load but
I'm bending under the weight
I brave the darkest nights
But I shy away from shadows
I stare into your eyes but
Somehow I'm still sightless
I push you so far away
But I want you to hold me
I am ready for the battle but
My armor is full of holes
I pull back my bow of bitterness
But fall so short of the mark
I aim for your heart but
Instead I pass right by
I open my own doors
But they all close behind me
I act so strong but
Inside I'm weak and alone
I fight the world away
But secretly I long for you

The Falcon and the Hawk

The girl stared at the gun barrel with a cold, calculating indifference in her old eyes. It seemed to Vann that the girl's eyes were not the same age as the rest of her; they had seen too much too soon. This, however, was Vann's last thought.

The gun smoked as the girl slid it coolly back into her purse. She looked at the man, laughed shallowly, then turned on a shiny silver stiletto heel and continued on her way. The black jewelry hanging from her neck clinked gently with the sway of her hips, and her dirty blond hair swished and fluttered in the cool evening breeze. She pushed her sunglasses down over her eyes, and with a smile tickling the corner of her lips, she broke through the crowd outside the club, flashed her ID, and walked in without a word.

The Falcon was a high-class, celeb-only type of club. Only the elite gained entrance. Jaz was neither elite nor celeb, but no one bothered to look twice when she waved her license in their faces. The bouncers backed away and waved her in the doors, and she strutted to the center of the dance floor, doing a quick once-over of the room. Jaz's jaw was set when she took off across the room towards a small metal door. Her hair whipped behind her, and her silver dress made no sound. The only noise she made was the sharp 'click-click' of her heels on the tile of the dance floor.

Jaz pressed her ear flat to the door. Anyone watching would not have noticed her quick knock and her mumbled password; they would only have seen a shockingly beautiful girl lean on a door and then quickly fall into the room behind it.

She shut the door quickly behind her, then took off her shades. Her eyes pierced the darkness, quickly finding the desk and the large, sweating man seated behind it. She nodded to him and laid a thick manila envelope on the desk.

"Done," was all she said.

The fat man nodded and slid a thin folder toward her. "Time for number two. This guy's got a record with us. Owes about two mil, and he's evaded my best for a full year. You find him, you get twice this much," he said, putting a small briefcase on the desk.

Jaz nodded, grabbed both the folder and the briefcase, and walked back out the door. Her sunglasses went down again, and she slid out of the club just as quickly as she had entered it.

The briefcase thumped against her leg, and a single, shifty-eyed man watched her carry it down the street. He noticed with interest that the case read "N.J.Hawk."

With You

I drum my nails

On the hard rails

Contemplating

Not complaining

Of the present

I'm so content

To stay here

With you near

I smile

For a whille

And you

Grin too

Your eyes

Produce sighs

When you're looking

At me I sing

Even with

This myth

I'm hard to get

It's you I met

And I fell

Don't tell

It's you I love

My mourning dove

Standing in the rain

You take away the pain

You make me laugh

A perfect smile graph

Even in a storm

You keep me warm

So I'm not complaining

Just contemplating

Thinking of

Our love

And I try

Not to cry

When you're away

And clouds are gray

I think of you

And they turn blue

Meet The Beauty

Once upon a time...

There was a beautiful girl. This girl was made all the prettier by the fact that she did not think she was beautiful. This girl lived outside of a small village. The village was full of older people, mostly retired. Every day, the girl walked four round-trip miles to take care of the older people. She brought warm meals, blankets, and stories. The people loved her and repaid her for her kindness with money. The girl, being humble, took only what she needed and nothing more. Every day, because of her kindness and humility, the girl grew more beautiful.

One day, a strange man moved to the village. He was younger than most of the others there: more active, darker hair, and lighter skin. He smiled often and laughed loudly. The people of the town came to love his humor, but no one knew where he was from. No one bothered to ask.

The girl, however, was drawn to the strange man, and asked him many questions. Though never entirely answering them, the man always smiled and countered her queries with a smile and another question. The girl loved talking to the man.

One day, she asked the question no one else would.

"What is your name, sir?" she asked.

The man grew suddenly quiet and solemn. Quickly the girl--Lizza was her name--apologized. "Sir, if I have offended you, I am sorry. I meant nothing by my question."

The man smiled at her, but his eyes were sad. "Lizza," he said, "you have brought me memories of a time that I wished to forget. I was once the husband of a girl...so like yourself. I loved her, but she had no experience with the world, and when I gave her the option, she left me." He sighed. "Lizza, darling, I do not want you to be like her. I want you to know who you are. Do me one favor."

"Anything!" She exclaimed.

The man walked to his desk and, retrieving a key from his deepest pocket, unlocked a drawer. From the drawer he pulled a small metal box. This, too, he unlocked. He handed Lizza the contents. She stared at it in wonder and disbelief--$20,000!

"Why are you giving me this?!" she wondered aloud.

The man smiled again. "My girl, go into the world. Leave this village. Go learn the ways of people your own age. Gather experience. Leave! That is what I ask."

Lizza lowered her head and looked at the money in her hand. She had promised the man; she would keep her promise, but she already regretted having to leave the village.

Sunlight Like Pearls

Today

The world is dancing

It picked up cloud skirts

And tiptoed through the roses

It tossed sunlight like pearls

It sighed a cool breeze

And ran off to bed

Tonight

The world is singing

It put on stars like jewelry

And it's showing it off

The sky hugs the ground

And wraps it in clouds

Then kisses it with the moon

Like The Sky, part 6

"Mairin...this is so hard for me to put into words without stumbling. We have become best friends this last year. I have enjoyed your company so much, more than you know. I have learned so much from you, and you have brought out my wild side a couple times. I have been able to share my secrets with someone for the first time and not worry about them telling my father and the court. I trust you more than anyone in the whole world. But, Mairin...I no longer wish to be friends."

He trailed off and my smile wavered and faded. His words were so kind, so sweet, so sincere...or they had been, up until the last sentence. This was so unlike him.

He stared at me for a long moment and then grabbed both of my hands and held them in his. He got down on his knee and looked up into my eyes. He kissed first one hand and then another.

"I no longer wish to be friends. I wish to be your husband. Mairin, I love you. Will you marry me?"

My jaw dropped open and I stared at him in disbelief. This was so unexpected!

"Mairin, please say something..." Callan's voice quavered the tiniest bit as he spoke.

"Callan...I..." I stopped myself and thought for a moment. I knew Callan so well. We were, as he said, best friends. I realized with a jolt that I did love him. I had loved him for a long time. Is this what love felt like? I loved the feeling of love.

"I love you, too, Callan. Of course I will marry you!" I gushed, suddenly breathless.

Callan stared at the ground for a moment then looked at me. Through the tears gathering in my own eyes, I could see his brown eyes filling with happiness. I smiled widely and laughed, the happiest laugh I had ever laughed. He gazed deep into my eyes and slowly, slowly, a smile broke through his rough exterior and cracked through his lips.

My prince--my fiance--smiled for the first time.

Like The Sky, part 5

The prince and I continued to grow closer and closer every day. After nearly a year of having me around, the prince came to find me in my morning lessons. He walked into the room and looked straight at me and winked. I grinned, knowing that it meant he had something amazing planned, and his mischievous side began to come out.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but may I borrow Mairin for the rest of the day?"

I could see in the woman's eyes that she wanted to say no, but of course that would be impolite. Callan was prince, after all. Saying no to a prince could get her into a lot of trouble.

She bowed low and said, 'Of course, highness,' but I could see her glaring at me when she stood again. I knew that hard work would take up my entire next week. Oh great.

The prince offered me his arm and we walked out, me trying desperately to contain a laugh. The prince, of course, had no trouble keeping a straight face. I tripped over the door frame, and that was it for me: I burst into giggles. The prince looked at me and I thought, for a second, that I saw a grin tickle the edge of his mouth, but then I blinked and the thought left.

"So what are we doing today?" I whispered loudly.

"Wait and see, Rin. You're so impatient." I laughed at the sarcasm in his voice, and smiled at the nickname. I had long ago been nicknamed Rin, but Callan was the only person who actually called me that name.

We walked slowly out of the castle and into the courtyard. When we were completely lost in the garden's enormous hedge maze, Callan turned to me, looking more serious than usual--quite a feat--and began to speak.

Like The Sky, part 4

But the prince. The prince of Hatill. When I woke, I was staring into his eyes. His eyes...reminded me of something, but of course by that point I had no idea where or what I was. I looked at the prince, and I thought, I'm still falling. But of course, I was laying in a field somewhere. The prince--his name is Callan--he picked me up and took me back to the castle, where I was tended to by the king's personal physicians. That was when I first began to gain fame. My wounds healed quickly. Too quickly, I think, because it made people notice how different I was from them.

The prince and I became great friends. I spent my mornings learning the ways of the royals from a bold, brazen woman the king had hired for me, but my afternoons were spent more enjoyably; in the prince's wing. I never entered his personal quarters, but I spent a lot of time in the living room--the largest room in his wing. He taught me more than my 'tutor' ever managed to beat into me. I learned to write the language of Hatill, I learned to speak to the servants with respect, and I learned of the prince's disdain for his father. Callan told me that his father was starving the common people to build his empire and his army. "If another nation doesn't attack us soon, my father will go out of his way to start a war," he told me.

The prince revealed his heart to me over and again. He told me that he loved the commoners, but because he was the son of the worst king ever (in their opinions), he was hated nearly as much as his father. Callan left the castle often, but every time he had an elaborate costume and a back story to deflect attention. The people that met him when he was Hassan, his common name, loved him completely, but he didn't dare to reveal himself to them. I was the only one who knew of the prince's other self...but I still never saw him smile. I got through the steel, but the wall that remained was impenetrable.

Like The Sky, part 3

The next thing I remember was a prince. I don't mean just any prince of some tiny country that no one really cares about. I mean the prince of the most powerful nation. The sea nation, Hatill. It was set on the ocean, within short sailing distance of most of the other nations. The other nations respected the might of Hatill and kept their distance, but that did not mean that Hatill and it's rulers were lacking in their military strength. It just meant they were biding their time, ready to strike. Which, in turn, meant that any family wanting to keep strong, able bodied men and boys was forced to hide their men and live far away from the arm of government. Which meant that the prince of Hatill had been raised in a militant family, and he was as cold and hard as steel. He never smiled.

I had fallen so far and so hard that I attracted the attention of the royal family--was I a threat? A fire sent by a hostile nation? A search party was sent out, and when they returned with me, a limp, wet, burned girl in their arms and nothing else to show for three days' searching, I became the nation's newest source of pride.

No one truly knew what I was--I barely knew myself--but that did not keep my beauty from bringing me attention. Did I mention that? I may have forgotten: beauty is not something we took pride in back home. But yes, I was beautiful. More beautiful than most humans; stars tend to shine more brightly than humans.

Like The Sky, part 2

After the trees, there was silence for a split second and then the loudest, most shrill scream I had ever heard. It took me a good five minutes to realize that the scream had come from me. After this realization, the pain took complete control of me and I was lost in the fire. I knew that something was going on around me, but for the longest time I felt nothing but the pain. I saw nothing but the red-blue sky that I had fallen from, and I heard nothing but the voices of my family, warning me to watch my step and mind my ways.

I had always been clumsy. That was, arguably, my literal downfall. I, however, will swear to my dying day of being pushed. My family was well-known and well-loved in the sky, but we always had our enemies. My clumsiness only came in helpful when it came to getting rid of me.

That, of course, all changed when I landed on Earth. I don't mean I stopped being clumsy. The clumsy that I was was incurable. I simply mean that everything I had before I fell was gone--all the memories. All the memories, that is, but the one of my actual fall.

Contest

My mom requested that I enter this contest for her. :) So here you go, mom.

http://www.marilynmoll.com/2011/02/enter-the-contest-to-win-a-sprouter-and-sprouting-seeds/

And now the newest contest!

http://www.marilynmoll.com/2011/02/introducing-the-wondermill-junior-contest/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed:+MarilynMoll+(Marilyn+Moll)

Like The Sky, part 1

Falling is a unique feeling. There is a sense of enormous heaviness as one begins falling, and then a sudden and inexplicable sense of complete weightlessness as you plummet through the the air towards the center of gravity. throughout falling, only one thought seems to enter a person's mind: landing is going to hurt.

And it almost always does. You can sometimes roll out of a hard fall, but there's always a jarring impact.

So imagine falling from the sky. Correction: from the sky to the ground. Thousands of miles. Even though you can't possibly fathom it, try to imagine the pain that would come from that impact. Hint: It would hurt a lot.

I know, because that is where I fell from. It was a long journey, my fall, and it ended in fire and pain. And trees.

Lots of trees.

Rage

Fists pumping

Heart racing

I'm so tired of feeling this way

But this feeling won't leave me alone

Running hard

Breathing heavily

Pushing through the oddest pain

To get the most from this terrible state

Eyes watering

Teeth grinding

Wanting it to end soon

But knowing I'll miss the adrenaline

Feet pounding

Mind whirring

Trying to control my temper

But not succeeding, not even close

Slowing down

Letting go

Now I'm out of breath

And I can't see straight

Gasping often

Bent double

The ground rises to meet me

And I let the grass envelop me

Just A Ghost

I'm just a ghost

Going through life

Like I don't even care

Walking through lives

Like I'm walking

Through a dream

Are those faces?

I can barely see

I don't realize

When you stand

In front of me

My eyes are

Somewhere else

My mind is left behind

Nothing's making sense

I see but don't

I hear but don't listen

I can't tell truth

From the lie anymore

I'm living on the edge

Not realizing it

Never knowing

I'm one step from

The perilous edge

Keep me from falling

Is what I wish

On shooting stars

The sky's vividness

Is fading to grey

The greenest greens

Seem horribly pale

The warmest breeze

Sends me to chills

I lay awake at night

Without knowing why

I can't tell

If it's all in my head

Or is it all real?

I'm just a ghost

Going through life

Like I don't even care

Walking through lives

Like I'm walking

Through a dream

Just Letters

Dear X,

I have decided that you are my inspiration. My hero. You are the person that, right now, I most want to be like. Your life was so full, so wonderful! So complete, and you were so young. Almost as young as I am now. And yet, you did so much. I look up to you, now in more than one way.

But I have a secret to tell you. I am not like you, not at all. At least, I don't think I am. I am quiet around people I don't know well. I am shy at times. Other times, I talk too much. You were so great around everyone. Everyone that knew you loved you so much. You were a light to all those lost in the dark, shining so brightly, pointing them in the right direction, just as a lighthouse guides ships safely to shore. I want to be like you. Help me? Send me advice and wisdom from where you are!

I know that you can't really do anything to help me in the physical sense, but you are driving me to more than what I was before. This past week, I have accomplished so much. Yet there is still so much lacking! I have so many things I want to do with my life, but I either don't know how to begin, don't want to, or simply can't without something more.

So. You are my personal 'trainer.' Or, you are in a way. You are my conscience, in a way, my accountability coach with the things I want to accomplish. You are the one that I will tell things to. Not just little things that I want everyone else to know, too, but important things, things that matter to me. And I know just where to start.

This is going to be an amazing journey for me, and I will always remember you through this.

Love,

M

I Miss You, Friend

Seeing life from your eyes

Everything is different

The blue of the sky

Looks a little more blue

The sun up above

Is brighter and warmer

The world spins slowly

But still time passes quickly

I was having a hard day

A challenging year

But your perspective

Changed my life

Now I feel that I can see

Everything, good and bad

Though the outlook is bleak

There is still hope in you

How can you see through the pain

And make this world

So much better for people

Like me, lost and lonely

How can you work so hard

When you know you

Will never profit from it

And only I will see tomorrow

I don't want you to leave here

I don't ever want you gone

Stay right beside me

Bring me this constant clarity

This hope in the darkness

This calling for higher purpose

Give me the strength to carry on

Even though you are gone!

Thank you, Brandon, for what you did for the people that knew you. Thank you for making the world a better place even though you weren't meant to be here to see the good triumph. Thank you for encouraging me, through your death, to live for something more than just 'getting things done.' I feel like I haven't done enough, and you showed me that the little things count. Thank you for being who you were in life. Thank you, God, for bringing my brother in you home, as painful as it is for those of us that must stay behind. I miss you, Brandon, and I will always remember you!

Work It

After I work out

I just want to shout

I'm limping all day

But I like it that way

It feels so good

Just the way is should

Adrenaline rush

Laziness crushed

I'm running on empty

But man I've got plenty

I'm ready for more

I like feeling sore

My heart pounding hard

When I'm beaten and scarred

My face drips with sweat

But man you can bet

It's the best that I've felt

Though not the best I've ever smelled...

Love Is

Love is a fickle, ever moving thing

Hard to find and harder still to hold

The song that everyone wishes to sing

It's the sun that melts the icy cold

The sight of smiling eyes

The heart's wish to be strong and bold

Laughter that stills the desperate cries

Of a friend in sadness and pain

Desperate after so many failed tries

Love is standing in pouring rain

Or even in freezing snow

Being there even if it seems insane

Love is hard to hold in your hand

Even when you're holding mine

Love is a shiny wedding band

Love is a thing far too fine

For poets, bards, muses, gods, faeries,

And even simple folk to define

Somebody To Love

Sometimes you just get a little desperate...

Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I work hard every day of my life
I work till I ache in my bones
At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -
I get down on my knees
And I start to pray
Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord - somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me - somebody to love?

(He works hard)

Everyday - I try and I try and I try -
But everybody wants to put me down


They say I'm goin' crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
I got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe
Yeah - yeah yeah yeah

Oh Lord
Somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat
I'm ok, I'm alright
I ain't gonna face no defeat
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!

10x Find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

http://www.metrolyrics.com/somebody-to-love-lyrics-glee-cast.html

Hanging Posters

Some little gnome tore down all of my posters. It's true. Want to see? I'll show you. But first, let me tell you how I know.

I saw him.

It's true. I promise you. OK, so maybe I wasn't there, in person at least. But I was there in...spirit. I set up this awesome little motion detector camera thing. I had it aimed towards my posters. See, they fall down about every day, and I've always wondered why. I was going to find out.

So, I had this little camera set up, and I had my posters up, and then I left. I walked out the door and locked it behind me.

The next time I went to my room, sure enough the posters had fallen again. I got really excited then, and I ran to my camera and opened it. I was shocked to find that the video that had been made was only about a minute long. I sat on the floor and pushed play.

The short video was absolutely amazing. The door never opened, but a tiny, ugly, fat little man appeared near my posters. He cackled maniacally, and reached toward the first poster. Needless to say, he couldn't exactly reach it, but amazingly, it didn't seem to be a problem for him. His arm seemed to reach and reach, but it never seemed long. He tore the poster from the wall, and grinned evilly. His tiny red beard seemed to sparkle with an almost sinister glow, reflecting his smile. One after the other, he went around the room and tore down my posters, stomping defiantly over each of them as he moved to the next. When the last one fell, he turned and gazed around the room, stopping at the camera.

He winked, and then he was gone.

I couldn't believe my eyes at first. Then, I knew I had found something amazing. Still want to see? Come on, let me show you!

God Saves

I am lost in blindness

And I refuse to believe that

i can see

One has to accept a life in darkness

Years from now I can only tell my children not to believe that

Simple grace triumphs over utter darkness

I was born in sin and I was conceived in sin

It doesn't matter to God that

I live every day of my life in hopelessness

No longer can it be said that

There is a God who hears the cries of his people

My whole life testifies to one truth:

Blindness has robbed me of every good thing

And it is no longer true that

God saves those who are crushed in spirit

Now I don't know much, but I know one thing for sure

I was born blind, with no hope and no future\

But then I met Jesus, and he turned everything in my life upside down

Now go back, and read this post from top to bottom.

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/6Id9fW

Writing, Writing, Writing. Crazy.

A poem is like a story. A poem is a story. A poem hits you like a ton of bricks, or it hits you like a feather pillow, or it does not hit you at all, and simply fades away into the background of life. Poetry is like walking down a busy New York street: sometimes, you see people so strange and unusual that you know you will remember them for a good while. Other times, you see people so striking, so beautiful, so nice, so…themselves that you wish you could take a picture and never forget them. Most of the time, however, you see non-descript people, going about their business, walking through life in the same way you are. But when you write a poem, you become someone else. Perhaps you become one of those beautiful people. Maybe you blend in with all the rest of the world, and only stick out to a certain few.

I find when I write with rhythm and rhyme

That I sit and think for too little time

I cannot sit and write for hours on end

With nothing at hand but a page and a pen

Fantastic creatures can come to life

But grabbing details causes such strife

Originality comes easily and then I’m soaring

But writing facts can be awfully boring

In a conversation and its length

I often lack sufficient strength

I can tie a story together quite well

But there are some points I just cannot sell

An outline, for one, I just cannot do

Call them undeveloped—well, it’s true

I will wait until I am out of time, out of room

Before I let an idea burst into bloom

The ideas I have are sometimes too small

And I work too hard and kill them all

I sometimes…let sentences…drag

I keep ideas to myself and try not to brag

The ending to this may be obviously simple

When praised I will easily dimple

I appreciate feedback at all times

But hate when people insult my rhymes

The content to a story of mine

Is striking, polished, and refined

It makes me blush when my work is shown

And when teachers praise my style and tone

If you wish, and if you work hard enough, you can become one of the many faces that people will remember. You can become beautiful. I prefer to be different. Although beauty is not lost on me, I find that moments in which you laugh or cry stay with me longer. Laughing is a joy, and writing poetry that makes people laugh is a wonderful thing.

Push

Winter nights

Long fights

Yelling at you

Being torn in two

A large part

Of my fragile heart

Stands in the rain

Bending in pain

I can't trust

One person this much

It's bringing tears

And worsening fears

And as much as I want it

I know I can't push it

So instead every day

I'll push you away

The Writer

My pen and ink come together on a page to create something extraordinary. The dim light peering over my shoulder jostles for space on the desk, and I let it. I wrote until my fingers were stiff and my head was spinning, then sat back in my chair and reread my work. I had created a world on a page, and the next step was to make it come to life.

I close my eyes and become part of the fantasy.

I was running from my own invention--my own villain. I looked down and realized that I had on the torn blue dress that I had described in chapter three. Gunshots broke the silence that I had first walked into, and then suddenly there was action everywhere. Cars zoomed by me, unaware of my situation, failing to see the man with the gun gaining on me. With every shot, my heart thumped an extra time, and my breathing caught. A semi blurred past, and the sound of it's horn covered up the sound that ripped through me. Bright blood rushed from my should, instantly soaking my dress. I stumbled and nearly fell, but caught myself and started running again. The bright red chucks that flew out from under my dress with every step reflected the blood on my shoulder. I let go of my dress and ran harder, harder, breaths coming in short gasps now.

The next shot brought me to the ground and I rolled, screaming in pain. My leg! I lay on the sidewalk and gasped, shuddering with sobs.

My villain walked up to me slowly. He held the gun out in front of him, cautiously, almost as if he was as scared of it as I was. Ridiculous. I was hallucinating. But then he lowered it slowly, and I caught his face.

Moreo! The friend of my brother--the man I had once loved. He was trying to kill me! He looked into my eyes and half-smiled. I used to love that smile. Now, I realized that it scared me more than the gun. But then his smile quivered, and the worry behind the mouth showed in his eyes.

"I can't kill you, Lijuette. They told me to, but I can't do it. I never stopped loving you." He leaned down and put the cold gun in my hand. "Shoot me. Please. I want you to. I can't kill you, but you can kill me. They will never know what happened to me. Please!"

I pulled the gun close to me and stared at it, exhaustion and pain making my head spin. Slowly, I put it to his lowered head. I stayed like that for hours--perhaps it was just seconds. I don't know. But then I pulled back my arm and threw the gun over the bridge. My villain stared at me. "Why, Lijuette?"

"Because, Moreo, I never stopped loving you either."

I opened my eyes and smiled. A good beginning to a last chapter.

I pick up my black pen and make the white pages come to life.

Letters From M

Dearest X,

I miss you entirely. There is something pulling at my heart every time I see a picture of you. Your face, your eyes; these are the only images I see, even when I look at someone else. My heart pulls me toward you but oh! my head, my mind, tells me to turn and run in the opposite direction. My eyes are filled with the overwhelming feelings that run through me. My blood pulses in my veins when I hear your name, and my heart quickens, but my mind runs in reverse.

Will I ever be able to put my heart and mind on the same track? I doubt this even as I wish it with all of my being. Perhaps this wish will be the only thing that I agree with my self on. This thought saddens me, but I feel that it is true. I wish you were the one to put them straight, but when you walk--toward me or away--my feelings and my thoughts scream at each other.

So here is what I will do. I will not write any longer. Oh, X, you know how I wish I could send you this letter, and the others I have written. But I cannot. These pages, this ink, will never see the inside of an envelope. They will remain in my hands. Locked in my desk, where they are safe, they will gather dust.

Maybe one day, when I am old and wise, I will open these letters and read them again. Maybe I will see whatever it is that I am missing now. Maybe I will see the truth to this entire situation. Will I be wrong in what I do? Or will I consider myself to be wise when I look back?

These are the mysteries only time can reveal. For now, though, I must lock away the letters and bury my pen.

Goodbye, X.

Love,

M