Have you ever been so scared of something that you could actually feel your heart race, the tires peeling across the asphalt, creating a burning sensation.  Your stomach is filling in as the pit crew.  Cheering it on in a way that says "I'll be on my way up if something bad happens".

It's always on those rainy days too.  Always on the days when clouds overcast the sky and remind you of that hidden fear.  I feel like I can relate to the sun when it hides, this way I don't always feel so alone.  "What did you do this time sun?  Why are you hiding today?"

On days like this I find that my hands are extra clumsy.  I tend to drop everything that I'm holding, knock things over.  I can feel my body shaking in anticipation of what scares me.  It seems that every force of nature is working as a team against me today, and I'm just the tiny little girl with a football helmet way too big for me standing in the middle of a deserted football field.

But you come to a point where you have to try.  You have to try and win life's silly little game.  When the first kickoff comes, be ready and pray.  As I crouch down at the line and stare fear, anxiety and pain in the eye, and the perspiration beads my upper lip, I say to myself, I can win this.

And now, right now, I am ready to take on the other team, and I have three words to say to them.

Bring.

It.

On.

Watched with-in the Shadows (Chapter 1)

Prologue

The young Native American knelt down and grabbed a fist full of dirt looking up at the white man standing before her, and she slowly released the dirt from the palm of her hand.

                “Just as the dirt from my palm drifts away in the air, so will the things that torment this earth.  But before that must happen, one with a strong heart must pick these things up, and then let them go.”  As the dirt reduced to nothing the man looked into her palm and noticed that only a golden chain was left.  She opened her hand and inside attached to the chain was a blue gem that glowed brilliantly when the sun hit its translucent glossy surface.   She reached for his hand, grabbed it, opened it, and placed it in his palm.  As soon as the gem hit his hand it gave one last strong glow, and then dimmed to a small dark shimmer.

                The Indian woman looked him in the eye, a sad glint to hers. 

                “Never let this leave your blood.  For the warrior I speak of, will descend from your line of people.”  She turned around and walked off, never to be seen again. The man placed the necklace around his neck and turned around.  That week he died of mysterious causes, no one knew what he would jump at, what he would scream about, why he looked so restless.  He was crazy, the town’s people said, and that was that.  No one would have known any better.  The necklace was given to his eldest son, and from that day, each eldest child was given that same necklace, and the same terrible sickness.

Chapter 1

            A loud screeching noise met my ear and I flipped over in bed, flinging my hand to my side table desperately trying to mute the horrible noise. 

                “Where is it? Where the heck is it?” I thought to myself.  I opened one eye, and realized that my alarm clock had been moved… was being moved. 

                “What?” I rubbed my eyes confused as my alarm clock floated away from me.   As it made its way to my door I realized just what it was.

                “Latte! Wha- why do you have my- aaahhhhh!”  I jumped out of bed and rushed over to where my Golden Retriever mix was begging to be let out with the alarm clock in her mouth. I pressed the snooze button and pried open her jaws, retrieving the time telling machine which warned me I only had an hour to get ready for school. 

                I walked over to my window and opened my blinds letting the sunlight shine into my room.  It hit my bare arms and legs and I felt the warmth spread over me.  I took a deep breath in, watched as the birds flew and sung, and smiled. Today was going to be an amazing day.

                “Hey mom!” I said walking out into the kitchen of my one story house. She was dressed in exercise clothes, and had the just-got-out-of-bed look. 

                “Hey sweetie. Wash your face, I’ll be back to take you to school soon.”  She was just leaning down to click the leash on our excited dog, more than ready to go for a jog.  This was Lattes highlight of the day.  I rolled my eyes at my mom’s twice a day comment and watched her leave the house quiet and happy.  I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, poured a just-right mound of cereal and milk and began to munch on some Captain Crunch.

                My parent’s door slowly creaked open and I looked over.  My dad came shuffling out.  He and I exchanged not much more than a smile and a hug and I was off to my room to figure out what I was going to wear for the day.  

                As I closed my door I looked at myself in the mirror.  I wore a long hoodie that said “Topeka Kansas” on it and went down a little above mid-thigh. My reddish-brown hair was messy but had grown down past my shoulder blades, and last I examined my face.  Acne spotted my cheeks and I sighed.  It seemed like forever since I had smooth cheeks, and I wanted nothing more than to see flawless skin yet again.  But until that happened, I tried my best to cover up these marks on my face with make-up, one thing I wished I didn't need.  My greenish-blue eye’s stared back at me, they were soft, but as soon as sunlight hit them they popped and became intense.

                I walked over to my closet and glanced inside.

                “Hm…” I thought, grabbing a turquoise crop top, long sleeve shirt with glow in the dark monster eyes wearing nerd glasses on the front.  I took off my hoodie and slipped on a black tank top and the shirt over my head walking over to my dresser and taking out a black pair of shorts.  I put them on and brushed out my hair, straightening it quickly and putting on make-up. 

                My back pack sat packed and ready by my door and I picked it up, flung it over my shoulder and was ready to go.     

                As I walked through the hallways of the school, I melted into the side of the walls and tried my best to hide from anyone and everyone.  And with the exception of my two best friends who seemed to find me no matter how invisible I pretended to be… and one boy who seemed to slip in and out of the shadows, avoiding me when I saw him and watching me when I didn’t, I did pretty good!  I was new to the school this year.  Silver Creek High was not the average high school, I figured that much out the first day that I stepped foot on the ceramic tile flooring.  But I wasn’t sure if everyone here had their own personal stalker or whether I just seemed to attract this young man’s attention.  Either way I kept my mouth shut.  I told myself I was just seeing things like the rest of my family had been for generations, and willed to keep my mouth shut until I was really in danger.

                Grasping the necklace around my neck I pressed on through the crowds of chattering kids and walked to my first period class unnoticed.        

              

Pins and Needles

Here I sit,
in a waiting room of all places
Waiting to be poked
With a needle and
Like a vampire
It takes away my blood

What is it about needles that scare me? Why is it that every time I hear the words "shot" or "blood drawn" I start shaking in my boots? As of now I'm sitting in the waiting room of doom. Here I decided, would I rather be in a DMV? Maybe. But as I sit here I begin to recall a memory that's very clear in my mind, and seems to be getting even more clear as the time passes, and I wait for what's about to come.
   It was August. I was five, about to turn six and my mom and I were in getting me registered for school. This was a big time of my life! Everything was new, and big and strange. I took to everything with a terrified shyness, hiding behind my mom every time a teacher teacher tried to speak a word to me. But as it came time for the last steps of registration, after we had met all of the teachers and had filled out allot of papers, my mother brought me into what seems to be a torture room for children 6 and under.
   Kids clung to their parents with tears streaming down their face, their sleeves rolled up. I looked up at the horror taking place in front of me. What was this terrible place? Why had she brought me here? Did she love me? I remember a boy in front of me with a runny nose and puffy eyes and suddenly my heart began to race. My logic was, if a BOY was crying then what ever they were about to do had to be painful. It wasn't until the nurse beside us began whispering me assurances, that I decided everything was just an elaborate scheme that they were all planning against me.
   These people obviously had set me up! They put me in a trap to intentionally cause me pain, and they didn't want me to know it before it was too late. But I would not be so easily fooled. As I walked up to the lady with the so called "needle" in her hand, I was already puffy eyed and snot nosed at the thought that pain was about to be inflicted.
   My mother brought me to the nurse and she examined a place where she could insert the vaccine.
"Her arms are too skinny, I'll have to put the shots in her thighs"
   My eyes got wide and my body froze. What was this mutiny?! Between my mom trying to pull down my elastic waist-ed jeans, and holding me down, and what seemed to be loud words of encouragement, I sobbed and was even more terrified than before. But as the nurse began to prepare the needle as I sat on my mothers lap with my pants ashamedly pulled down and she pinned me to her, my mom began to cover my eyes! The horror! They had caught me with my trousers down, pinned me against my will, and now they were covering my eyes, telling me not to look! Who did they think they were? All of a sudden, all I could feel was four cold needles, WAM WAM WAM WAM! Jammed into my thighs and I screamed. I felt the pain from the medicine numb my thighs. As we tried to walk out I began to fall, and I felt nothing but numbness as my knees buckled under me.
   That day, that terrible day has scarred me forever. And now as I sit in the chair about to get my blood draw I smile. This won't hurt at all....
 (Warning: This story may be more dramatic than actual occurrence) I was five.  What can I say?

Might As Well Write Love (Part 2: Can Supernatural beings love?)

The battle in my heart
Is tearing this girl apart
What kind of person am I
To reject a love such as this?

Hey everyone,
I apologize for how long it's been since I've last posted. I have no excuse, I suppose I just haven't gotten around to it.

The answer to the question in the title is different for everyone. But to me, I say absolutely. In fact love IS a supernatural being. Love is God.

The past few days I've been having a hard time believing that God was even real. I couldn't see him, I couldn't feel him, I couldn't even hear him, and it seemed that no matter how hard I tried to seek him, and to love him and follow him, I always fell away. I began to get really really frustrated with myself and no longer knew what to do. I wanted to completely give up. I wanted to choose to live my life how ever I wanted. I wanted to do what I wanted. I didn't want to continue to follow anything that I didn't know was there. So why didn't I just give up? Why didn't I just call it quits and make my life easier. Why didn't I just permanently reject the idea of a god? What made it so hard, impossible even that I couldn't simply walk away from a stupid religion.

I discovered my answer. And I've come to find that once you've even had the smallest taste of God's love, you can never again... walk away.

I asked myself multiple times lately, How could God be real if I just keep falling away from him? If he really existed, would he really let me turn away from him? Would God really let me reject him so much, if he really did go through all that trouble just to save me from my sin? Why would he let me fall?

These questions began to spread like a disease through my thoughts. And I finally broke down. I found myself sitting at the dinner table with my parents in tears, because I no longer knew what to do. I remember telling them while crying like a little girl "I fall away from him so much, and it's so frustrating! I just... wanna stay there!" My parents listened to my cries of frustration in silence, and when I asked if they would pray they sat me down between them on our couch and prayed over me as the tears dripped down my face. I prayed first. I cried out to God in angst for knowledge to know what to do. I told God that I wanted to love him, but didn't know how. The next day my mom walked into my room asking if I was too sick to go to church and so I stayed home that day. But the question I asked myself, "How could God be real if I fall away from him so much?" was turned.

I began to realize something. And that was, would I really keep coming back to Gods arms if he wasn't real? And every time that I have come running back, there was no rejection, no replacement. He stands there, waiting. There's no way that God doesn't exist. That his love doesn't exist. Because if I felt no presence, or subsistence in his love, if I found no meaning in his love, then there's no way that I would care enough to come running back.

God. Is. Greater. Than. This.

Might As Well Write Love. (Part 1: What I think love is)

Late at night

Yet again

The need to type 

Flows to my head

It's strange

How my thoughts
Come only in the dead of morning. 

Well, I've decided that I should write about love. The name of my blog is loved based after all.   Ah... Je t'aime.  The cheesiest and most repetitive thing that bloggers can write about.  So many people have so many thought's on love and what it is, but we still haven't quite seemed to figured out.  Why?  Why would God create something so everlasting and vast and emotional that people would search for it their whole lives.   From the time that a human is born to the day they die, they will always look for love.  We subconsciously look for this "crazy little thing called love".  And still when we find it, we continue to search.  But why? What in the human mind, craves to just be loved?

I am speaking as a broken hearted teen, who has been in relationships that have obviously, ended.  Just like any other teen I know what it's like to go through a brake up.  At the time it seems the the most terrible thing in the world.  But why is that? Why is it such a traumatic experience to hear the words "it's over" or "well ya see... there's this guy".  Well here it is; my input on what I believe. 

There are so many points you could bring on about love.  So many things that I could say, or so many places that I could start. I'm overwhelmed as to what exactly what to say. (Which is probably hinting that I should have planned this a little better(: )  But I suppose I could go into explaining a little about myself.  

I've always had a crush on some guy at one point in time, the first being in kindergarten.  A boy that would swing on the swing next to me everyday at recess.  My first heartbreak was one day looking up and then seeing the empty swing, still swinging back and forth.  I think back to the innocence of that time, and the slight ping of disappointment I felt when I saw that he wasn't there.  Then fast-forwarding to my middle school years and that slight disappointment turned itself into tears of sadness that flowed down my face as I sat with my sister and talked to her about my guy problems.  

Teenagers seem to think that when it comes to love, the phrase "your to young to know what love is" is just a big lie.  It's rubbish that your parents tell you, and they obviously don't know what they're talking about.  This is something I've heard many of my friends say.  It seems that anytime an adult mentions anything about love and relationships, teens seem to roll their eye's and block out anything that they have to say.  It's painful to admit, I have to say.  But these people we scoff at, hold things from their past that will connect to our future.  And they are wise.  And pride will be ignored in saying that these people that have raised us or have had part in our lives, are right.  Us teenagers don't know what we're talking about when it comes to love.  In fact we barely even know what we're talking about when we mention life.  

But I come here to this blog with thoughts that I've had, other blogs that I've read, and older siblings and parents that I've talked to.  I have no idea what love is. I just know that it exists.  Do you have to know what something is to feel it?  So I suppose I should start off with the question; What do I, personally and in all honesty, think love is?  

I've heard many people talk about it.  I've heard answers like God is Love or, the corny youtube video phrases you'll find in most love song lyric videos. But what I think love is... is something different.  I think love, is a relationship glued together by God.  Not the high school romance.  I believe that when you truly love someone, your always striving to be the best you can be, just for them.  You always do what's best for the person you love, weather it's keeping them pure, or telling them the truth, even when it's painful.  Love is unconditional, it's invincible, impenetrable.  Love is the gear that make the heart beat.  Love is in everyone's heart no matter how deep you'd have to dig to find it.  Love cannot be squelched by greed, power, jealousy... Love. is. greater. than. this.  Love is a bigger thing than of what we've defined it to be.  But who can give this kind of love?  Who can show this much devotion from one person to another?  I must say, that there is only one.  God, Christ... Christ showed this type of love.  He knew love and showed love better than any other person that has ever lived.

If you were to study the life of Jesus, you'd see it every where.  He was the perfect example of love, and he knew where he was walking.  Some people see love as a care-free lawless flush of emotion, they see it as unrestricted.   But if you had a puppy in the city, would you let it off the leash risking that high possibility for it to die?  Only Christ showed this kind of love for us.  He showed the people what was better for them, seeing that they'd be happier in the long run.  He knew that what they hated now would only benefit them later.  If not in riches and money than riches in wisdom, or gain in maturity.  All I can say to who ever is reading this right now, is read the life of Jesus, and tell me, that you don't see this agape love.  Tell me that everything he said, and everything he did was out of a thing that no human could ever amount to.  Tell me that everything he said to anyone in the walk was out of hatred.  I assure you that you will find none there.  And in every honesty, it amazes me that until just now, I realized none of what he did.  I wonder what kind of person could turn down an shove off as unimportant, that kind of love, for people that could never even come close to a love a this.  That's what I think love is.  Christ continuing to search for my heart, no matter how many times, I've rejected his precious, precious love.  That... is true love.  Love to which no one but him can ever amount to.   

What would happen if presents were alive?

Imaginatively and intricately
Gently and quietly
Boisterous and Unanimous
Thoughts flow through my brain.
You give me a question,
I give you an answer
Topic after topic
Never gonna stop this crazy
Madness.  

  Hello everyone!  It's been a few weeks since I've posted in my blog and so, I've decided that I might as well put together another concoction of words for my reader's eyes to soak  in.  Recently I've decided that I will take any question (that I see fit and likewise appropriate) to write about in my bog, to compensate for my lack of ideas.  Weather it be random or serious, I will do my best to speak of what all of you find interesting.
 
This week; and, more accurately, tonight while talking on the phone with a friend I was asked, "What would happen if presents were alive?" and so, because of sheer boredom and longing for another great "adventure of my mind", I decided to answer this ridiculous, yet ingenious question.  So, without further adieu, I present :) to you... my answer.

The night was a dark one, and the houses were silent, awaiting the coming of good old St. Nick.  Every child was asleep and every parent lay awake, dreading the early hours of the morning, knowing very well that they will awake to the shrill happy screams of their little children.  One house in particular was more rambunctious than the others.  It's lights still seeped into the snowy darkness late into the night, and sounds of music and laughter emitted from any place it could manage to squeeze out of.  This, was the Manchester home.   Now, the Manchester kids themselves, were the worst.  Where the parents politely mingled among their guests, the kids of the estate, where everywhere.  Always breaking expensive goblets, sliding down stair railings, and tormenting the poor dearest basset hound, Octavian.     But this year, St. Nick saw what went on, and decided it was the last year the Manchester kids would have, to pull off their devious stunts, and so he devised a plan.

That night, he slipped down the chimney, ate the plate of cookies, and drank the glass of milk, and went to work.  He stuffed every stocking over the fire place and set all the presents underneath the tree, all the while knowing exactly what would become of these carefully packaged gifts.  Santa then carefully slipped up the chimney and was on his way back to his freezing north pole home.

That morning, the Manchester kids burst out of their rooms, and bolt down the stairs to claim their bountiful prizes.  But what they had in store was something that turned the world upside down.  Peter, the oldest and the most impertinent of them all, pushed and shoved through all the others so he could make it first to the tree.  He sprinted and snatched up the first present he saw, but put it down as he caught a glorious large present, wrapped in gold paper and tied with a bow.   All the other children saw this too, but as soon as Peter advanced towards it, they all froze, for everyone knew not to mess with Peter.  He took the silk bow in his hands and tugged.  It fell loose.  Then what happened with that present no one know's or cares to know, but anyone who has experienced it freezes up and falls down unconscious, shaking for 3 hours due to the sheer terror of that moment.

It's said that the present began to shift and mold, the gold bubbling like hot lava.  It grew long golden arms, golden legs, and a golden face.  It came to life in the very eye's of the one who removed the bow, the very one who had detonated it.  What was said to happen after that fateful night will make anyone cry from fright, but if you were to go into the Manchester's house,  there that gold present sits, underneath the plastic pine, right where it was said to have been before.  Yet underneath,  sitting right beside this present, are 12 very intricately wrapped packages, of ugly brown paper.  No one know's what happened to the 12 Manchester's either.  Some say they moved suddenly, without the sense of saying goodbye,  some of the crazier people say that they just simply disappeared.  Either way what would explain the 12 untouched packages?  What exactly, would explain the untouched christmas tree still standing in that silent house?   And what would cause them to leave in such a way that they would forget the poor dearest Octavian, who was found dead, lying at the 12 presents feet, yesterday morning?

No, they didn't disappear,  nor did they simply just, move away.  The Manchester's souls were packaged themselves.  And set there for eternity.  And it's said, or so I say, if you were to walk into the house (which non even dare)  you will hear 12 faint voices crying for help.  I should know...
I heard them myself.  

(extra note: shout outs to anyone that read this blog!! I love you all!  Thank you,
and goodnight.)

A New Years Toast!

Fireworks explode
In the night sky
Again with my dog, my friend, and I
The moon, only half, hangs in the sky
But it shines bright
And it looks down at me
It says "goodnight
I will be
Up here always to keep you safe."
So here I sit on a couch,
In a land
That I create on my own
In my mind I shall plan
What to do next,
What pawn to move,
In this new year.
All I know
Is I will hang tight
And wait for the main event.
Happy New Years.

Well! Happy New year everyone! I seem to have the pleasure of spending another night with my twin friend this lovely eve! But I suppose I have the right to ask about New Years resolutions. The funny thing about resolutions is that most people set the goal and give up after the attempt, or so I find. I do have to say that I am guilty of it myself.

In looking back on previous posts, it seems that I have bashed society quite a bit with words and accusations. I assure you that I don't hate where we've taken things, yet I do suppose I could be taking out the feelings of contempt I have towards people in this day and age. In admitting things that seem to baffle me, I am quite mystified at what the Apple industry is doing with electronics. We've come so, so far in technology, it's almost crazy to hear my father tell stories about "when he was a kid". But at the same time, I feel as though, sometimes, people just don't see things. I am only a teenager, and I have much to learn. So much, in fact, that I hardly even realize the extent of how much life I have to live. I'm aware that love is one of those things that, now, I most likely will not understand, no matter how many times people talk about what it is. Yet is it beyond me to know it exists? I know that lessons are out there for me to learn, and even though I don't know them yet, I do know that they will come. And I think that that's a very important thing to establish.

I say that sometimes I feel that people just don't see things as a teenager. I am looking through the eyes of a girl that hasn't even started life yet, and I have to say that looking through new eyes, I see allot of people that have gone blind, and are constantly told what to do and where to go. I remember, not too long ago, a dog that my grandmother used to have. Her name, was Molly and she was a silver miniature schnauzer. Due to old age the dog grew blind, and ran into things often, but when you called her she knew exactly where to go. My Grandmother had her euthanized, but I just remember kneeling down on the kitchen floor and calling "Molly! Molly! Come here girl!" And she would run into one thing and then slowly walk up to you. I feel that's how people have become. You need only to call them, and they do what you please, a slave to society. That's how I feel high school is. There are of course those blind dogs who try and rebel, thinking they're so "bad". But of course they're still trapped in the same house, running into the same old things.

My question here is, Is it better to be a blind dog, or one that can see? I have a dog named Latte. She is a sweet little dog, and very much alive. Latte, is a pound puppy. Though I suspect she is a golden retriever, shepherd mix. Latte lives up to her name, she rips around the yard quickly around and around and never seems to get tired. Molly was the same way, the only difference between Molly and Latte is that Latte isn't old and can see. Now imagine you were running around the yard, and suddenly you saw an escape, a way to break free from the fence that keeps you safe. Being a dog, my crazy fuzz bucket would bolt out through the hole in the fence and run faster! Probably all the while thinking: "I'M FREE!!! I'M FREE!!!" but Molly, wouldn't know any better. Because she was blind she wouldn't know that there was a hole in that fence, therefore she would have no excitement, and no freedom. Which dog would you rather be? If you think about it there are pros and cons to both aspects. In the scenario you're Latte, the feeling would be great! You could explore the unknown! Sniff the unsniffed, taste and smell and feel what hasn't been before! You'd be walking on the edge! Adventurous! The world would be at your finger tips... but there's always that chance that a certain car, would happen to drive by and smash it all. Or the possibility of coming in contact with things... higher on the food chain. The dangers are great and many, and the possibility of living a full long prosperous life is slim.

Then there's Molly, she's safe with-in the borders of the fence, just close enough to home to get there when she needs food, or water. She's close to the people that love her and take care of her, and she is comforted. But then on the flip side, she's always waiting for someone to call her in, tell her what to do, tell her where to go. There are so many things out there unexplored and left in the open. So many lessons to learn and wisdom left cold. The only thing gained would be the comfort of the people shes so loyal and faithful to, and the only wisdom gained is the wisdom of those around her.

Molly is an example, of how I see the world today. And where it may seem like a good thing, and may actually be a good thing, how many of us will actually get somewhere, other than outside the safety of the fence?  How many of us will continue to be blind to the world out there?  And where I don't exactly think that Latte's approach on exploration is quite practical :) considering she is just a dog, what if we were to take the cautious approach to the adventurous side?  How much more knowledge would we gain  if we were to step outside the boundaries?   Despite the risk of getting "hit by cars" or "eating the wrong thing" would it be worth the knowledge?

To wrap up this post I will be bringing it back to New Years resolution in asking two things,
Do you need to step out of the safety of the fence and think for yourself? or
Are you a little too crazy, and running to fast without thinking?  Do you need to slow down and learn to observe and take in?  

Added thought:
In talking about getting out of the boundaries, for teens I have to say that your parents are there for a reason.  And that fence is there so to keep you safe from harm.  But in my point of view, if you find an opportunity to get out and explore the world around you, take it.  I warn you though, be sure that if your "owner" ever calls you back, come.
P.S.
Think about what you need to adjust this year, and try to keep it up.
Until next time,
Nay.