Freedom

I came, every day, to see her. Just, watch her. I never knew who she was, she was just a beautiful young woman who spent her mornings in the park, with tears brimming out of her unfathomably strange eyes. One day, she was different. She was dancing, and spinning, and giggling. She began to yell, "I'm free! I'm free! I'm free!" Free from what, I wonder. I never saw her there again.

Movies

I peered up the stairs at the girl sitting there, with a single tear streaming down the side of her face. One half of her face was obscured by her ebony curls, while the other was completely in view, with her hair tucked behind her ear. I walked up the stairs and sat next to her, feeling a bit odd, especially because the previews had just ended, and the movie had barely started, and she was crying. That tear continued to fall throughout the entire movie, whether the situation was happy or sad, there was a steady stream of saltwater streaming down her smooth cheek. When I asked her why she was crying, she said something that confused me a great deal, because she seemed so passionate about this odd opinion.

"Even though several important characters die, and a magnificent creature is attacked and killed, the guy gets the girl and the movie ends on a happy note and 'everything is ok', isn't that just terrible?"

Energy

When is life over, and when is it just beginning? Kiara showed me that sometimes you do have to say never. She taught me that life keeps going no matter what. Whether it has a vessel for that strength or not it continues along. Its just heedless energy that crashes into a human form every once in a while. All that powerful heedless energy has a purpose, weaknesses, and strengths. It loves, and it desires. Certain heedless energies are drawn to eachother as well. That philosophy holds me to believe many things that help me thru my life. I know that Kiara is where my energy wants to go. But, what about hers?

Common Garden Variety Teenager

A girl, not more than fourteen, walked down the side of the road, her face contorted with rage, sorrow, and confusion, a tennis racket in her left hand, her right hand balled into a fist. Her beautiful features themselves held sort of a sadness that carried into her long graceful stride. Curiosity got the better of me, and i pulled over to the side of the small town road to offer my help or comfort. Imagine! Me! A well-respected psychologist pulling over to help a common teenager. My arrogance was softened by her heart-melting features. When I offered, she didn't scowl as I expected her too, but folded, and begged me to give her a ride to the library. I obliged, and inquired about her tennis racket on the way there. She quickly got defensive, but told me that she was intending to meet a friend who didn't show up. Then she folded again and confessed that she thought he assumed it was a joke when she asked him to meet her there. I was releived to realize that I was just dealing with a common garden variety teenager. I dropped her off at the library, where she proceeded to hand me what looked like money, and even as i attempted to protest, she ran off. Upon closer examination, the strips of paper were emblazoned with intricate drawings of fantastic worlds. Was that the work of a common garden variety teenager? I think not.

Christina, Another Identity, Another Touched heart

Pure beautiful glee. I hadn't seen it in anyone over 10, until I met Christina. Long wet curls plastered to her face and back, she stood in the middle of the river, smiling at the sky. Suddenly, a blessed scream left her throat, pure and strong, reverberating against the granite banks the water lapped so eagerly, and she sunk into the rushing water, being carried downstream quickly. I let out a cry of distress, thinking she had fallen and was being rushed to her death, which was cut short by the shock of the sight of Christina, rising to her feet, giggling with the pleasure of the sensation. It was that moment that I knew life was pointless without joy. I was considering going to thank her, but then I thought, she probably gets that a lot.

HER Love and a Good Friend

HER Love: S-so, h-how’s Sydney?
A Good Friend: I’m not sure her heart rate has returned to normal, after Wednesday.

HER Love: Wha-What happened on Wednesday?

A Good Friend: She saw you. Sydney is a strong being, an untouchable. We all see it, and not one of us fails to acknowledge it. She intimidates us all, wise beyond her years. But on Wednesday, I saw that she could be touched, that she could be broken! You broke her, you touched her heart, without even trying. When Syd is hurt, she disappears. None of us have seen her since Wednesday.

HER Love: I know where to find her.

Introduction

In waking I am me. I live life as a robot, conformity an essential element in my life. All emotions are kept inside, never shown to even those I love. Many teens live this way. I am one of many teens; A stereotype. But not her, she knows who she is.

In dreams I am strong.
In dreams I love.
In dreams I am loved.
In dreams I am beautiful.
In dreams I know.
In dreams I feel.
In dreams I am seen.
In dreams I am known.
In dreams I am admired.
In dreams, I am HER.

Change of Heart

The girl I knew, or thought I knew, and fell in love with, would've timidly inched open the door and most likely slammed it in my face, upon realizing it was me. But not this girl. She wrenched it open, and stood, towering a good 6 inches over me, with her hands on her curvaceous hips and her feet a good 3 feet apart, right on the threshold. She met my eyes with an indifferent stare, but i thought i may have seen a question flicker through her hard face. She was so strong. I marveled at the beauty that had revealed itsself to me the moment her hand left the doorknob. I searched the deep brown eyes for some kind of answer to the question that was running through my mind, "who is she and what has she done with my girl?" But then she cracked a smile, and invited me in.
She said to me "Alright now, say whatever you have to say. Omission is lying, and whatever you came here to say must be important, or you wouldn't have come at all. I value what you have to say. Just take a deep breath and say it. Don't spill it in a blur. Just say it, slowly and clearly, and give me a minute to register."
Her statements sent my head spinning. She valued what i had to say? How did she know? But, regardless of my confusion, I took her advice and began to form the words, stumbling clumsily from my lips they came, but she understood. Her hard face softened and tears began to gather in her distant eyes as she listened to my story. When I finished, she was outright sobbing, and she began to speak.
"I'm sorry, but, you lost your chance. A month ago, I would've fallen into your arms, crying, and told you I loved you, but now...I've moved on. I do care about you; I probably still love you, but, we make mistakes, thats life. Repeating them? That's just stupid. So is getting your heart broken by the same person twice. I think you should go."
And so I turned on my heel and left, angry tears stinging my dry face.