Also, explore the worlds most intense bathrooms!

 I seem to be unable to form a coherent sentence, so I have decided to think about the bucket list that has been forming in my head for years. Some things are impossible, unrealistic, quite strange, and others are pretty normal. Never the less, they are all things that I have always wanted to do or things that I may just be thinking of. (In no particular order)

1. Paint with my body/body paint
2. Sky dive
3. Swim in the beer pools in Germany
4. Base Jump
5. Participate in a boxing match
6. Create a massive fort, one that is so incredibly ridiculous I will wonder why I have so much time on my hands
7. Walk on fire (I hear it is entirely possible)
8. Hike a volcano (preferably mount Vesuvius in Italy)
9. Live on a boat for some time
10. Do something entirely illegal and feel dangerous while doing it, but have no consequences (nothing to do with hurting anyone)
11. Go sledding on a mattress
12. Fly with a jet pack
13. Walk in pogo shoes
14. Go on an adventure
15. Drive on Route 66 to the song Route 66
16. Meet Johnny Cash, which can never happen but it is still here just in case one day before I die they find a way to bring people back from the dead.
17. Be 100% Care free, just enjoying life
18. Have a BBQ on the hood of a VW bus
19. Enjoy Life (an ongoing process)
20. Graduate College
21. Be unique (also an ongoing process)
22. Jump off a bridge- bungee jumping
23. Build a log cabin in the woods (even if not for me)
24. Climb a tree to the tip top
25. Own a soda parlor

Leaping

I have a secret that probably is not much of a secret. For me it is hard to admit and hard to say, so to me it seems like a secret. I passively try to reveal this secret. I have attempted to be upfront and ended up passively sliding by it. I feel like a teenager. I feel different. I feel like I never have felt before. I feel like I really have no idea what I feel but I know I feel good, I know I like it. This is me trying not to be passive and being upfront about how I feel. This is me doing something I never do. This is me not caring how stupid or corny I sound.

I am taking a leap because for some crazy reason you make me feel confident that I can. So here it goes.

You inspire me to write. You encourage me to write things that may be a little out of my comfort zone. I wait for your blogs and I check for your posts an embarrassing amount. You are someone I never get tired of talking to.

You make me want to take my phone everywhere I go, even though I never used to care about bringing my phone. I bring my phone just so I can text you when something reminds me of you. Almost everything reminds me of you and that scares me. It scares me in a good way. I like the way I feel when I am with you.

I am my complete and real self in front of you and I like that. You make me feel free to express exactly what I feel even though usually I never can.

I feel like a teenager with her first crush. Although you are not my first crush, you are the most intense crush I have ever had. You are the first one that I wanted to be more than a crush. It has taken me so many passive blog posts and Tumblr reblogs to get to the point where I can even write this let alone actually post this.

I like the way you make me feel. You make me want to stay in bed all day even thought I am usually a morning person.

You make me feel like I can do anything in public even if it makes me look crazy. You make me want to put my arms around you, even in public, even though I never used to be comfortable with public displays of affection.

You make me realize I may not want an open relationship. You make me feel like a real relationship might be worth it.

You are my roommate and you are one of my best friends and I do not want to rush anything or make anything awkward but I like the way things are going. I like kissing you.

I am saying this because life can end at any time. As cliché as that may sound it is true and I want you to know that I like you and even though there are sometimes bad outcomes to situations, maybe the outcome can actually be great. Maybe the good outweighs the bad this time. Maybe we need to see what will happen and put it all out on the line because the negative outcomes in our heads may be overshadowing the outcomes that might be better than we can imagine. So here it is, my attempt at talking about my feelings.  I hope it is not too much. 

Blabbing, not really making any sense of my words...

In five years, I have no clue where I will be. The thing about getting older is we never know exactly

where we are going to end up. Cliché as that may sound, it is true.When I graduated from highschool
I never would have guessed that I would end up where I am now. I have changed in so many ways and
so much has changed in regards to every aspect of my life. I am different since graduating from
high school and I am happy for that. It is the people we meet, the different places we go and sometimes

it is just getting away from what we always knew that helps us find exactly who we really are.

However different I am when I go home, it does not take away from who I am when I am in NYC. I am who I want to be, whether that is crazy or drunk or a lesbian, I can express myself, my true self.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my family but I also have a family in NY that I would be lost without; a

great family that shows me exactly what it likes to be loved for exactly who I am. In NY I can wear 
underwear without being asked questions, take the classes that interest me without being told
they have no value and be crazy just because I feel like it. My biological family is funny and crazy and
strange but I also feel like they do not know who I really am. There are parts of my life that I don't ever

talk about with my family; my sexuality, love interests, general interests. Like in therapy I seem to
over simplify most everything I say. I skirt around different issues, topics, stories. I pick and choose

the things that I say for fear of giving too much away. With my friends at college, now my roommates, everything seems so much easier to say. I have friends from home but it is not the same. They are truly
like a second family to me. It’s nice to feel I have someone to talk to and someone who doesn’t mind 
listening, someone I don’t mind listening to. To get back to my point which I have gotten away from,

you never know who you will be and who you will turn out to be. I feel more like myself than I did
only two years ago. As lost as we may be at one point there is always something waiting for us. I am
usually the pessimist, especially when it comes to romance and love.

I may be more fragile then I like to admit. Two years ago I never would have thought I would be an out

lesbian. I never thought I would be a political science major with a queer studies minor. I couldn’t have imagined I would have an apartment in the east village in NYC or that I would have an internship with
K.H. at my schools LGBTQA center. Without moving away and meeting the people I have I wouldn't
even have thought about being an advocate or realized my passion for politics and human rights.  Since

yesterday even I feel like I am different than who I was only a few days ago. Things happen and ideas
of who we are change daily, even hourly. Change is hard to accept and many times it is hard to
understand. It is hard to let go of the people we once knew even though many times they are really

already not there anymore. People change around us; our family, our old friends and ourselves.

Learning to change with the people we surround ourselves with is how we become who we are and
our real selves. What we have to do is learn to accept that change does not always just happen we have to learn to take initiative and make it happen even if we are scared to admit it is something we want.   

Like Letter

I have never written a love letter before. In all the movies it seems like a right of passage as a child in middle school- sending a corny misspelled letter with boxes for yes and no underneath the words “I love you. Will you go out with me?”

It always seems a love letter is written at the beginning of a relationship or as a confession, so I never understood why it is called a love letter. So here goes my confession or ‘like letter’ to the one I am pining for. I am not quite sure if there is a specific person I am crushing on at the moment but I figure if I write this now it will be ready when I actually need to use it; plus, I want to fulfill a childhood right of passage, seeing as I did not actually fulfill it as a child.

Dear you,

I am no good at this sappy relationship head over heels honesty type thing. All I know is I seem to feel something for you, more than the other people in my life. I think of things to say to you just so I have a reason to talk to you. You make me feel real, like I can be exactly who I am. Sometimes it feels like I walk around being who I think I am supposed to be for everyone else. I like you. You are real with me and I can be real with you. I think about you when I am board and wonder what you are doing, but I do not ask because I do not want to sound too crazy, even though you already know I am not exactly what most people call normal. So here it goes- do you like me like I like you? It is okay say no, but it would be great if you said yes.

Feelings are hard to admit, especially when they are geared towards a certain person. I can barely write my own feelings in my own journal, let alone feelings about another person to that other person. If a letter like this is ever sent by me that will be the day I grab the courage to say screw what anyone thinks. However, the whole point of a letter like this is to say I care what you think to that one special person, so is that not a bit counter intuitive?

Have there been people that I wanted to send this letter too; maybe one or two. Are there people I want to send this letter to now; maybe one or two. That is not the point. Am I thinking too much? Truth is, I have had a first kiss, and I have had a second kiss. I remember who they were with and where they were but beyond that nothing. I see this as a gift because now I will be kissing someone because I truly want to feel their lips on mine or I will be kissing them because I chose too, not because I felt like I had to or I felt like it was what everyone else was doing. Maybe I have such a hard time sending this letter to someone not because I fear rejection, but because I fear whoever I might be sending this to may know my secret…. I have no idea what I am doing. (and because I fear rejection).

Climb a Tree

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the phrase- “I wish I was in kindergarten again” or “I wish I did not have to grow up.” Maybe I have even said this at one point or another. I am at that age where I want to be older, 21 to be exact, because my friends are moving towards that age and I am somewhat left behind for a little bit. The fact is, where ever we are in life, it seems no one is really happy where they are. Some want to be younger and some want to be older. In kindergarten we want to grow up so fast, but once we hit college, we wish we could stop growing up. It seems no one is ever where they want to be.

We create this divide between being an adult and being a kid. There are responsibilities as an adult but work and money are not the only important aspects of life as we get older. It is like we forget how to be a kid. We walk by a playground and watch a little girl on the monkey bars and say oh I wish I could do that. Why can’t we?

The problem with growing up is we think growing up means growing boring. That may be the case, but it does not have to be. Just because I am almost twenty does not mean I cannot jump in bouncy house or play on the jungle gym. I can still color and doodle on my days off and create bracelets I learned how to make at camp when I was seven.  

There is no reason I cannot create a fort in the living room I now pay for. There is no reason I cannot turn the music up loud and dance without any rules. There is no reason I cannot blow bubbles in my chocolate milk at a diner and order the happy face pancake at Friendly’s.

We do not lose the ability to act like a child; we lose the confidence we had as children. Growing from a child to an adult you gain the ability to do things you never could before. We grow into this vision of the glass half empty, but in reality the glass is one hundred percent full. We can do so much as we get older that we could not do at as a child.

Being nineteen I live in an apartment in New York City. I shaved my head. I can go out at 2 o’clock in the morning for no reason except I feel like walking around. I can watch any television show; I can read any book I want. I can be professional; I can gain respect from people I just met. I can chose where I want to be in 2 years. I can pursue whatever it is that interests me. I can cook and I can drive. I can have a one night stand; I can fall in love. The world is at my fingertips, all I have to do is take advantage of it.

As we age it is important to grow up a little bit, learn to be situation appropriate. It is also important to keep our childlike spontaneity and the confidence of our 7 year old selves. I challenge myself to at least one childlike spontaneous act each day to keep life fun, interesting, not quite so boring. It is important to live however it is we want to live. If you want to jump in the fountain in the middle of the park or buy a sponge bob ice cream or even just want to read a picture book you read as a five year, I say go for it.

As peter pan said “If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I won't grow up, never grow up, never grow up, not me. ”

Don’t let it be beneath your dignity to climb a tree. Being an adult does not mean you have to forget how to be a child. 

Goodbye Buddy

Death is an inevitable end to every life. Sometimes death comes after eighty years, five children and a wife of fifty years. Sometimes death comes after only two breaths and one smile. Sometimes death falls upon us at the worst time and other times we expect it. No matter how ready anyone thinks they are, death hurts. Every death close to us and every death somewhat distanced from our immediate lives takes a toll on our hearts and crashes our worlds. Sometimes it is easy to recover from and sometimes it is like a baseball shattering a window- something we think will never mend back together. 

Death of a loved one, death of a beloved pet, the death of a next door neighbors’ pet that you have become best buddies with, the death of a friend you have not seen in ten years. Every death is hard to accept, and we all try to understand it, live with it, be okay with it. The one thing no one tries to do is say that it is okay to be devastated, hurt, upset, mad even. People cry, people take a day off of work, they go to a funeral, sometimes they say goodbye, but not one admits that their life has halted for a minute. The people we meet in our everyday lives all create who we are. When someone who was instrumental in creating the person we have become today dies, it is hard. 

Maybe life will go on and maybe everything will get better; maybe we can think about all the great moments we have had; maybe we can remember the smile or the energy or the happiness. Maybe we can try and recover from the pain that has ripped a whole in our heart that seems like it will never heal. 

I am one of those people that tries to make everyone else feel better. I am one of those people that says it will be okay; that says you just have to get up and work through it.

What I never say, is what I wish someone would say to me or I could say to someone hurting- It is harder to say the truth than try and bandage every wound, even though the wound may not be bandage-able. When you cannot bandage a wound you have to let it heal on its own; sometimes it takes days, sometimes it takes weeks, and sometimes there will always be a scar that can be obvious or may be more hidden. 

I have been told I have my grandfather’s laugh. I have my parent’s looks. I have acquired my nana’s ability to hoard (not nearly as bad as her or my father). I have acquired my father’s love for antiques and cheap treasures. I have acquired my aunt and uncles humor. I learned how to build a tree house with the man across the street at my grandma’s house. My teacher in elementary school perpetuated my need to be a liked student. Being bullied in middle school helped me learn how to hide my feelings well. My friends from college have shaped me into an obsessive reader. My dance teacher taught me valuable lessons about everyday life. Gymnastics helped me meet some of my best friends. Dance taught me how to calm myself down even though I had too much energy. 

Everything we do and everyone we meet has some kind of impact on our lives. Whether that impact is profound or small it does not matter. Without these people in my life I would not be half of the person I am today. Maybe I would have been a better person or maybe I would have been richer, or maybe I would have fallen in with the wrong crowd and maybe I would not be alive today. Losing anyone who has touched and shaped my life is hard. 

Even losing my hermit crab when I was 10 was hard. My hermit crab Hermy was the first animal other than a fish that I had. Hermy taught me how to be responsible for another life. Hermy gave me a friend when I felt like I did not have one. 

It is okay to lose it and cry. It is okay to close ourselves off for a little bit, until we are ready to stand on our own. When someone dies, even a first pet, we cannot always just get up and work through it, we cannot always just move on. 

I wish everyone was happy all the time; I wish I was happy all the time. Sadly that is not the case and can never be the case; it is the only healthy way to live. Sometimes it is easier to try and make everyone try and feel better than to tell them maybe it has to hurt for a while. There is not an answer to everything and there will never be a way to fix everything. It is hard to accept and I am still trying to learn to understand it, but being able to be sad, is a gift that we many times over look. Being able to remember everything that makes us miss someone and everything that makes us cry for them, that is a gift I never want to lose.

Tonight, I cried writing this.

Sleeping

Calmly lying still
why does he sleep
while we commune

Rivers of rain fill the room,
blue droplets stream across every cheek

Sadness?
Happiness?

Why does it rain
while the sun shines?

It is Christmas
why does he sleep?

When will he venture
back from this trip
back from a still slumber?

Why does he sleep
while I love?

Why does he sleep
while the birds sing
and the family gathers?

Why does he sleep
while I dance on stage
and play my first recital?

Where has he gone
in what dream has he fallen into?

Why does he sleep

while I am here

Waiting

Time

Years go by
everyone grows up.

Life continues
smiles begin again
holidays bring joy and laughs.

Months go by
things become bearable again.

Life drags on
people forget
no one understands.

Weeks go by
the tears stop.

Life is halted
pictures cause pain
memories flood back
ripping open the heart.

Days go by
never wanting to leave
the serenity of the life once known.

Life has ended
no one can ease the pain
of waiting and waiting for the door to open.

Time covers the wounds
that will never heal.

Time covers the sorrow
no one can understand.

I wrote this pair of poems my freshman year of High School. Over the years they have been edited and changed, shortened and lengthened, but it has always been an important writing piece for me. During freshman year English I got an assignment to write a set of poems, one poem that represented an event that affected my life during childhood and one poem that represented how that event  affected my life now (in 9^th grade). The poems could be about any event; a happy event, a sad event, a funny event. It was my teachers’ way of learning about each of his students and learning our writing styles. The teacher gave each student the option to explain what the poems were about or to leave the poems to explain themselves.  

I thought a lot about this assignment; probably more that most students. I love writing and English is always my favorite class. It took a long time for me to come up with an event that really affected me, an event that I could relate a lot of who I am with. I wrote these two poems about losing my grandfather. In a way it was about losing both of them young. Losing a grandparent is a somewhat common thing, but even today I have tears in my eyes when I think about both of my grandfathers. 

My grampy was the first person to die when I was old enough to somewhat understand what was going on. I was still young though and I did not cry at his funeral and I did not understand the real implications of what was happening. I saw it as a day to get out of school and a family get-together. I knew what death was but I did not really understand that he was not coming back. 

My other grandfather died when I was twelve. That hit me harder, I fell apart. I was not grieving for one grandfather I was grieving for two. Some might say I really lost both of them around the time I was 7/8. My grandfather had an accident and was in nursing home for almost five years, he never recovered. I got to know my grandfathers by the perspective of a 7 year old, which I could say is pretty glorified and for that I am happy. I see the times my grampy caught me at the end of the water slide and the times he sat me on his lap at the thanksgiving table. I remember the times my grandfather brought me to toys R Us and the times he let me help paint the house (but I was 6 and did not really do anything). I remember the happy and the great because in the eyes of a 7 year old, grandparents do no wrong. Maybe that is why it still hurts. Maybe I blame myself for not getting the extra years, but till this day I can never think about both my grandfathers without losing my mind. I have pictures of them with me, but I can never put them up because I still cannot handle it. It still hurts.  

  

The first poem shows the pain of not understanding a death of someone I wish I did not have to live without. The second poem expresses the amount of work it takes to learn to be okay with it. Both of my grandfathers may not have been perfect, but to a seven year who thinks her grandfather is coming back, it hurts to realize the next Christmas he will never be there again. To a barely 8 year old girl watching your grandfather fall down the stairs can be horrifying especially if that is the last time he spoke to you. My grandfathers have influenced my life for a long time, and I will never forget them, however glorified that image may be, they were perfect. The pain does not go away and the second poem is not quite true yet because I still lose it. 

I never handed these poems in that day. I did publish them in a project my senior year that really no was going to read. It is still are hard topic and it is hard to write this. Those poems were hard to write and even harder to hand in. 

But I will be okay, because time mends all wounds and every tear in our heart is an important scar that shapes who we are.

Morning Jog

Running through the lush
green grass that stretches
on for acres.
Feeling the crunch of the rocks
beneath
my worn out
mud stained sneakers.
Chasing man's best friend
over puddles, up hills
passing through the peaceful beauty of the world.
Over the bridge, past the spring,
through the mountains
listening to the birds sing
with the wind gently kissing
my rosy red cheeks.
Absorbing the fresh kind
smell of the pind
trees.
Listening to the iPod
called nature.

Dreams

He stared at the ground for almost fifteen minutes. His eyes were glazed over with tears he couldn’t bear to show. His heart was as heavy as a boulder, pounding with the force of a boxer smashing it with his fist. He could not even look up from the stained white carpet that his feet indented. He could barely utter the words that he had to say next. His mouth opened but the words could not pass the barrier of his mind. He just stood there wishing it was easier, waiting, hoping the longer he delayed the problem go away.

She knew something was wrong; she knew for a long time. She anticipated what would be coming. She knew what he had to say, but wished he would never be able to say it. For weeks, months even, she prayed it was her imagination. She justified every phone call, every time he did not look her in the eye when he came home late. She could not remember the last time he looked at her the way he used to, with the sincerity and the love that he had in the past, and told her she was everything he needed. She was sure she was ready for everything that was coming; but words began to spew without any control. Her words came spilling out of her mouth like the tears falling down her cheeks. She could not stop the words before they reached the air.

“Really, Really! NO! I do not deserve this. I deserve more than this you son a bitch! Two days; you wait two days before my wedding to do this! You wait until now, after everything I have gone through! I will not let you ruin my day, the day that was supposed to be ours… the freaking happiest day of our life! I will not let you make a fool out of me!”

She was angry at him but she did not blame him. At first the blame all fell on her. She knew something was coming but she did not want to admit it. She had a feeling when he asked her to marry him in August that he was doing it because it was expected, not because he sincerely wanted to get married. Maybe that is why she wanted to get married in December, not because it was winter or the joy of Christmas time, but so he could not back out.

The words started pouring out like the tears in his eyes, he could not hold back any longer. His words exploded into the air but his eyes still did not leave the safety of the dirty, white carpet.

“Please, it’s not you, I love you. I always have, I have for twelve years, I have ever since our parents introduced us in middle school.  I always will. Every time you laugh, every time you smile, it brightens my day, but the truth is I am not in love with you, I am not dying to get married tomorrow, and when I look at you I do not feel the same way as I did years ago. It is nothing compared to the way I feel when I look at him. There are so many uncertainties; there shouldn’t be. Maybe we need to try new things, maybe I need to try this, him. Maybe we need to see. If I get married tomorrow it would be ruining both our lives.”

“Look at me, look at my face you coward!” She was upset, angry. The anger towards herself turned to fire towards him. “How dare you imply this is for both of us, to save both of us. How dare you claim that by telling me you are not in love with me, you are in love with another man, you are helping both of us. I know what I want, I want to get married tomorrow, I want you by my side. I said yes, I committed to this relationship, you committed to this relationship! You are throwing me away like a smelly old sock that got a little too dirty. Do whatever the hell you want, but do not dare say that this is for us; this is for you, to make you feel better. This is to make you ‘happy’. There is nothing in this situation that is helping me. You may want to try new things, but I am fine the way I am, where we are. You had months to say something, you did not have to pledge to marry me, you did that out of your own free will and you are going to be the one that is sorry!”

His head slowly rose, fighting against the pain and the sadness that held it down. He looked straight into her eyes for the first time in months. He leaned forward and took her soft, moisturized hand and held it in between his, softly, carefully. He could not say anything, all he could do was stare into her tear filled eyes and painfully watch the innocence and the joy she had an hour ago slowly disappear like a shadow in the dark.

As their hands gently fused together, she thought about everything. The past 12 years, their life together, their friendship, their love. She thought about it all. The only thing in those 12 years that she always thought made since was she loved him and he loved her. Through all the crappy days and the fights that caused one of them to sleep on the couch, she always loved him. Even now, she could not hate him. She could barely stand to look at him, knowing he would soon be walking out of her life, but she could not hate him. She was angry, aggravated, and ready to punch him so hard he would forget what day it was, but she still loved him. He was her best friend; he was the one that made since. He was always the one that stood behind her and caught her when she fell. He was the only one that sat there when her eyes were all puffy and she was drowning in a sea of tissues after her father passed away. He was it.

For him too, she was always the one that made since. They did everything together. His father always expected him to marry a beautiful women, have kids settle down; marry her. Living alone, especially with another man, was out of the question. He wanted to please his father and his whole family. So why not marry his best friend, why not love his best friend? Ever since middle school his father told him, “she’s a nice girl, she’s what you want. She would be a good catch son. You should marry her some day, you would do well. You would be a lucky man.” His father would never accept anything else.

He spent his whole life doing what he wanted, except when it came to getting married. He never really wanted to get married, he thought kids would be nice but his whole life was not based around that. He never cared about pleasing his parents because in most cases they would always come back to him. But marriage was always the one thing that there was not option of blowing off or changing. He could not do it, he wanted to, he wanted to please his parents, he wanted to please her. He loved her, and he cared a great deal about her. It killed him to break her heart, but he just could not do it.

“There should not be a question, there should not be doubt. We should not do what makes since. It is what we have always done. It is all we know. But I cannot anymore. I look at him, and the world around me gets blurry, my knees get weak, all I want is for him to warp his perfectly chiseled arms around me. I am ready to do what does not make since.”

“You will lose everything. You will lose me; you will lose your family. Is he really worth it? Am I not? Do not do this just to change your life up. If your life is too boring go climb a tree, go sky diving, go base jumping for god sakes. If you leave and it is not what you expect or you change your mind, I will not be here to let you break my heat again.”

He looked at her one more time and softly laid his lips on her check and took a leap of faith. He walked out the door, leaving a blank check with his signature and a note.

“I wish it wasn’t this way, but I cannot lie to you or myself any longer. Not for my parents, not even to keep your heart from breaking, which is one of the most terrible things I have ever done. This check is for you, for the wedding, for everything you may need. I know you are hurt, and left without a best friend, but maybe it is for the best. It has been twelve years. You have been tied down to me and your families’ expectations. Runaway, climb Mount Everest, go skydiving, fall in love again, harder that you did with me.”

The note was covered with dry tears and the heart of a man she knew lover her but could not stay. She understood, but she could not forget, she could not stop feeling worthless. She could not let it go. Every day that passed, every minute that dragged by, she sat in her three bedroom house, made for a growing family, staring at the unopened wedding gifts and the surprise she would never get a chance to give him. She stared at the stick sitting in front of her that she had wrapped for him as his wedding gift, the stick that would start their perfect family.

 Maybe this was what he meant, do something different with her life. She was going to start a family, the adventure she always wanted. Maybe she did not need a man. It was not the way she expected, but nothing had been as expected lately.

For the first time in days she saw a future for herself again, for her baby, one that she did not expect or plan for but a future.

She painted one of the empty rooms in her large colonial cottage, bright orange for the baby she knew was going to be a girl. She just had an instinct and maybe it was too early to be getting ready but she could not wait. Once again she was getting ready for the happiest day of her life.

For weeks she spent hours every day putting together a cradle, a crib, even a baby changing station. She picked out a wall paper trim that was filled with teddy bears and clowns funny red noses. It was an enormous amount of work that always made her overly tired. Her hands got callused and cut, but to her it was all worth it.

Three and a half months she had been carrying, until one day, she stood balancing on the ladder in the almost finished room and felt a wed stream of what seemed to be a thick red paint dripping down to the bottom of her pants. But it was not paint.

The tears once again overwhelmed her and the anger she had could not be controlled. She tore the wall paper trim down off the walls, leaving a sticky white residue on the orange walls. She heaved a large hammer through the wall, making an extremely loud boom and plaster flew everywhere, raining down on the tarp covered room. She collapsed; she could not move.

For hours she sat in the dirty, now ruined, wrecked bedroom. She rocked side to die with tears dripping off her checked onto paint ridden jeans, painted her face bright red.

She was left, once again by the only thing she cared about, the only thing she thought she could call hers. She was left, along, staring at her past dreams that would not, that did not, come true.