As most teenagers are, I could be cheeky with the best of them.  Want to know my favorite kind of sale?  They always happened on weekends.

A guy would come in and buy condoms.  Sometimes I knew him and sometimes I didn’t.  It was always better if I did know him.  After I rang him up and bagged his “sale,” instead of saying “Thank you,” I would say, “Now you be sure to have a good weekend.”

More often than not, I received a blush in return.  It is a wonder that none of the customers reported me to the boss.   I guess they were too embarrassed.

I just thought about this today.  I haven’t thought about it in years.  It made me giggle, but at the same time – I can’t believe I did that!

Damn cheeky teenagers!

I want to hit him.

I want to make him hurt as badly as he has made me hurt.

Fuck him!!!!!!!!!!!!

He is too fucking scared of something real.

He would rather have his “fans” than something real.

Fuck him!

Fuck him!

Fuck him!

I don’t want to cry anymore over him.

I want the hurt to go away.

Fuck him!

He wouldn’t push me away.

Shame on him for doing it the first time.

Shame on me for believing him.

So, he could do it to me the second time.

Parts of me want to scream, lash out, and hurt him.

As much as he has hurt me.

Parts of me want to curl up into a tiny ball.

And cry my heart out.

Over him.

Parts of me feel sorry for him.

He doesn’t know what he is missing.

By running and pushing.

I don’t know what he expected.

From me.

He could have at least had the courage.

To tell me.

Rather than run.

Fuck him for running.

Fuck him for pushing.

Fuck him for hurting.

Fuck me for believing him.

Fuck me for believing in him.

Free

Falling

Through sky
Through time
Through space

Nothingness
Encircles
Envelopes
Embraces

Lights
Sounds
Tastes
Feelings
Fears

Drifting
At theSpeed of Light
Speed of Sound
Speed of Life

Dreams
Visions
Illusions

Break
Shatter
Implode

Who will catch me
When I fall.

What would I give to be able to sit across from you?

Sharing coffee,
or beer,
or wine.

To be able to talk to you.
about life,
about love,
about nothing in particular,
or everything we deem important.

Just for a little while,
an hour,
an evening,
a day,
forever.

What would I give?

A lot.

It pains me that…

You believe you are damaged.

You believe you are incapable of giving love.

You believe you are incapable of receiving love.

You believe you are unable to be truly happy.

You believe you are worth nothing.

You believe you are ugly – inside and out.

If I could,

I would heal the damage.

I would teach you that you give love without realizing.

I would give you all the love that I have.

I would help you find happiness.

I would help you see that you are worth more than anything this world has to offer.

I would help you see that you are beautiful – inside and out.

Dearest…

Maybe we are destined to not be together in this life.

Maybe we are destined to be together in another life.

Maybe we are destined to always circle each other.

But I want you to know…

You are my friend.

You are part of me.

I am part of you.

I love you.

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 Because I’m bored…

The literal translation of my journal title is “the foundation of my thought.”

When the phrase is taken as a whole, it means “what I really think.”

I think it is kinda cool.

Or, as they would say in France…”C’est chouette.“

I have a sister. She is two years younger than me.

Three years ago today she was diagnosed with leukemia, AML.

She was 25.

She is now in remission.

But, we almost lost her a couple of times.

I was doing my student teaching at the time.

When things were looking really bad, the doctors said that I could not see her.

Because I was with children everyday, it was possible to expose my sister to germs.

She had no immune system at the time due to the chemotherapy.

I could do nothing. I wasn’t a bone marrow match.

I was helpless.

I was devastated.

A walking zombie.

And to top it all off, the hospital had to fire one of her nurses for stealing my sister’s pain medication. My sister was in excruciating pain for days before we figured out the problem. The nurse had been giving her other meds, useless meds, in place of what she needed.

What if she didn’t make it?

How could I live with myself if I wasn’t able to see her before she was gone?

Thank God she pulled through.

Due in no small part to her sense of humor.

She would always find the humor in the situation.

Her first words to me after she told me she had leukemia were, “If I die before I get to see the last two Lord of the Rings movies, I will kill you.” (I was the one to convince her to see the first one.)

When she lost her hair, she said, “Well, at least I don’t have to shave my legs now.”

When I finally did get to see her, she would let me rub her bald head for good luck, like a Buddha belly. She has a beautiful, round head.

She made fun of me when I chopped my hair off to two inches long because I didn’t want her to feel alone with losing her hair.

Our relationship before leukemia was practically non-existant.

Today it is healthy and strong.

Just like she is.

I love you Kelly.

My favorite nerd girl.

Freak.

Beyonce.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Your sister,
Me

Comments are welcome, even dissenting ones.  However, please remember to be respectful.