When I was five, you told me my milk chocolate skin was ugly, and trying to destroy it, I poured flour all over myself in the kitchen. I am still sweeping it from the tiles. 

When I was seven, you said my hair was dirty and told me to flat iron it until the curls never came back. I believed you, and I am still trying to undo the damage.

When I was ten you said my lips were so big you’ve seen mountain climbers never reach the top, cupid’s bow stagnant, so I pressed them together and never spoke.

When I gave birth to my first daughter, I promised myself she would be cherished. I tell my daughter everyday that she is beautiful, trying to make her love herself even though she is a minority. I tell her her skin is of cocoa that everyone wants to sip. I tell her her hair is a natural flourish of her culture. I tell her her lips are ones for her empowered to slip out of.

And I tell myself I am beautiful in efforts to forget your racism.

Overcomer

     For the first eight months of my life, I lived with a man called Tom. Some of Tom's friends and a number of other puppies and adult dogs also lived there. The dogs staying at that place seemed to be ever changing. One went, a new one came in.

Tom gave me a bowl of pale, mushy, sloppy meat every morning. I lapped this up because it was the only food I ever got. One day, I overheard Tom talking to his friends. “That's one of the worst pits I've ever had,” he puffed on a cigarette as he gestured towards me. “But if I can make him look tough by beating him up a little bit and givin’ a spiked collar, the bets will go to him. I can drug my best pit to make him more aggressive and he’ll destroy that awful pup. Best part is we can turn a handsome profit betting on the other dog,” Tom and his friends laughed. Whatever they were talking about, it sounded horrifying.

     Tom came and scratched me, hit me, and pinched me, but only a little bit – just enough to leave a mark. Then, I was led into a cage on the outside of a circle of dirt like a small enclosed desert. In another cage on the opposite side of the circle was a large, blue, agitated dog. This was a terrible situation to be in. I instinctively knew at that moment that I was about to be in a dog fight. The fight ended without much excitement because I was smarter than the other dog. I didn't attack the him, I just avoided him until his energy ran out. After it was all over, Tom angrily forced me back into the cage and shouted harsh and crude sounding words to the other men around. We were all taken by surprise when an unfamiliar voice called out from the shadowy area behind the cages “Police! Freeze!”

     A man and a woman in dark uniforms with a golden shield shaped plaque on their chests stepped up to Tom. “You’re under arrest,” the uniformed man declared, fastening Tom’s thin, bony hands behind his back. Watching the excitement was interesting, but I was tired. I fell soundly asleep in the dirty cage. I’m sure I would have slept longer if not for the uniformed woman opening my cage door. She looped a ring of wire at the end of a long pole around my neck and waked me to the back of a van that was filled with other dogs I had lived with, all in clean cages. At first, she stood far away, timidly guiding my way. Then, when she noticed I wasn’t fighting back, she walked closer to me. “You’re a great behaved pup, especially after all you’ve been through,” she told me. Even though I didn’t quite understand what that meant, I happily barked. The woman smiled at me. “Oh,” She muttered. “I can’t just let you go to the pound. I think I’ll take you back to the police station with me. How does that sound, buddy?” It sounded great. I liked it when she called me Buddy. I was ushered into a small, dark, cave like space in the back of her police cruiser. We drove away from the wretched place that I used to call home.

     The “police station” was a big building with more people in the dark uniforms. Many of them looked at me and smiled. The uniformed woman took me to one man in nice, deep colored clothing who she called “Chief". He was as tall as a ladder and as sturdy as a brick wall. “Chief,” she explained. “I helped rescue this little guy, I call him Buddy, from the dog fighting operation. I think he has great therapy dog potential.” Chief thought for a moment. “You think this little red pup can be a therapy dog?” he asked reluctantly. “Yes, Sir,” the woman answered with confidence. I barked in excitement. “He'll have to go through strict behavioral training, but I think it’s worth giving him a shot,” I sensed the pride rush over the woman. “I'll call the animal behavior specialists, you stay with that pup,” commanded Chief. I sat near a chair with the woman. It was the most comfortable place I had ever sat. A few minutes later, some new people came. I licked their hands to indicate to the people I liked them. After a short conversation with the woman and a few other people in dark uniforms, they took up the leash the woman had adorned me with and gently walked me out the door.

     I was loaded into a large kennel in the back of another car. I LOVE car rides! This one in particular, it soothed me right to sleep. I awoke to the loud pop of the back car door opening. The people took me put into a strange room with strange toys where we played strange games. I had never had toys or people to play with before.

     The first thing they did was pet me all over. My tongue hung out of my mouth. I LOVED to get rubbed! One of the people in the room stood in a corner making notes on a clip board. For the next game, I was given good, delicious food! While I was eating, they stuck a rubber hand into the bowl. I stopped eating and laid down, waiting to get the dish back. The note taker made another mark on his clip board. For the last game, the people had some stuffed creatures with real scents walk near me. First, a child. Then, a cat. And finally, a dog. I wagged with excitement as they paraded by. The last mark was made on the board. The people smiled and indicated I had done a great job.

     The games were easy for me. All I had to do was not get upset. After the games, the people walked me into a big room with a lot of other toys to play other games. I had just earlier been introduced to the tennis ball, which instantly became my favorite toy. I excitedly plunged for one of those! The people talked a lot. Then, another new person came and took my leash. “You're a natural!” he whispered to me. “All that’s left is a bit of training,” he said. I barked, knowing that this training would be much better. The new man’s name was Michael. He was beyond kind. He gave me a proper home with him. He fed me wonderful food and provided me with a comfy bed. He took me to the toys and games facility every day for a long time. He taught me things like “sit", “stay", and “comfort”. I learned these all within a few months. After that, Michael and I went to a new place.

     This new place was called the hospital. At first, I was hesitant to even step through the doors. The hallways and equipment had a strong, chemical smell; a scent that burned my eyes. The people in scrubs, called doctors, smelled clean and fresh. The people they visited, called patients, had various smells about them. There were people who smelled weird. People that smelled sad. People that smelled sick. I learned that many of these people needed me, so I ended up enjoying it without a second thought.

     This is where I did the command “comfort". I put my head in their laps and they rubbed my ears. This small gesture filled them with joy instead of sorrow. I saw some people several times, other people just once. One of my favorite people to visit was a little girl named Lucy. She was so weak, but when she saw me, her heart was filled with shear happiness. She would throw me a tennis ball from her bed. When I brought it back and set it in her lap, she would toss it again. We would repeat this until her arm was so sore that she could barely move it. Then, I would lie on her lap. She could rub my belly, and sometimes fall asleep, which was something she was not able to do very often.

                Most of the patients I visited were children, but I also saw adults and seniors, too. I once went to an old man named Walter. When Walter laid eyes on me, I could tell he had forgotten about his pain. “That dog looks just like the one I had when I was a boy,” He said. “What’s that dog’s name?” He asked. “Buddy,” Replied his nurse. “Buddy,” called the old man. I walked to his side and rested my head on his knee. He scratched me right between my ears. I licked his hand. The day after that, Walter was able to leave the hospital, not sick anymore. I think I was able to contribute to that.

     I loved to make people feel good. It seemed to make a true difference in their lives. On one particularly happy day, Lucy Michael, what my story was. “Well,” answered Michael. “He was rescued from a bad, abusive place. But, Buddy was so kind and gentle that the police woman who rescued him suggested him as a candidate for the therapy dog program,” He smiled. Lucy smiled bigger. “So, he overcame something! Just like I am doing! I get to change departments tomorrow ‘cause I’m getting better!” Michael looked at her happily. “Yes,” he cheered. “You, dear Lucy, and Buddy are both strong overcomers.”

The scleras of his eyes were dark blood-red. He slowly approached me, almost as if in a trace. I felt the coldness of the wall behind me as I my back pressed against it. He leaned in towards me. “Please…” I whispered. “I’m not ready…”

“No-one is ever ready.” He hissed through his teeth, “But you must go.”

I winced at his words, and watched helplessly as he drew out a small but deadly knife. “Goodbye.” He whispered.

Darkness swirled around me and I began floating upwards. I stared at my crumpled body on the ground, and the man standing over it holding his knife stained with blood at his side.

Only a memory now. I was gone.

I woke up in my cold, dark house. It must be early. I stepped into my parents’ room and was surprised to find them still sleeping.

    “Mom?” I asked. “Dad?” No answer. I checked the time on my watch and realized that it was 1:00 in the morning. As I walked out of their room, I closed the door behind me slowly so as to not wake them up. I knew I’d never be able to fall back asleep and I didn’t have school today anyway, so I went downstairs to get a snack. The pantry door was stuck closed, which wasn’t much of a problem as it just makes it tougher to open. I eventually managed to open it and grab my biscuits. After that, I opened my fridge, feeling the cool breeze from it, and took the butter. As soon as I set down my biscuit, I lost my appetite. I don’t like it here. I never have and I never will. I screamed uncontrollably, forgetting that I was trying to stay quiet. I heard angry groans coming from upstairs. Obviously I woke up my parents. I just laid on the cold, wooden floor as my mother and father stumbled down the stairs.

    “Rob!” they screamed. “Where are you?!?” I waited, not answering their constant screaming of my name.

    “Robert Johnson! Get over here right now!” my mother repeated. I got up, but rather than walking towards my parents for another lecture, I walked out the back door, and off into the small forest behind our house.

    I always liked exploring the woods up here in the mountains. It was always a peaceful place where I could be alone. I enjoyed the smell of the pine trees and the view from the mountains looking down into the rivers was amazing. I sat down in my usual spot, looking into the rushing water in the river rapids. I could hear the birds chirping and the wind blowing against the trees. I sat here for a long time, as I usually did. I heard some rustling behind me and quickly got up, ready to run. Could my parents know where I am? I thought. As a figure came out of the trees onto the ledge where I am, I realized that it was just my friend Amethyst. We both hate it here in this town. We want to leave. The forest was the only place we could come to escape reality for a while.

    “Hey,” she said, smiling. “What’s up?” Not wanting to answer, I sat down and stared into the palms of my hands.

    “Not much,” I replied, not even glancing at her. It was obvious that I was lying. She rolled her eyes.

    “Was I actually supposed to believe that?” she asked jokingly. I didn’t reply, but instead sat down on the cold, soft ground, looking down into the river again. She sat down next to me. I could feel her soft, warm hand on my shoulder.

    “Oh c’mon,” she said. “It can’t be that bad.” That was true. I was over exaggerating. I reached for my phone and realized I didn’t have it anymore. I had dropped it in the river after trying to take a picture of a squirrel on a rock.

    “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my forehead. “I’m tired.” I stepped up and started to walk away, but Amethyst followed me. I turned around.

    “Why are you following me?” I asked.

    “Oh, sorry,” she said, walking away. I stepped into my house, bracing for the lecture I was sure would come. Yet nothing happened. They must’ve fallen back asleep. I started to walk upstairs, being as quiet as my body would allow. I slowly pushed open the door to my room and stepped inside. I closed the door, locking it. I got into bed as I rubbed my eyes. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard my door being unlocked. Uh-oh. My parents burst in with angry looks on their faces.

    “Robert!” My mother started. “I’m very disappointed in you.” Aren’t you always, I said in my head.

    “You know you’re not supposed to be up this late and you know that you’re not supposed to leave without permission!” she screamed.

    “Well maybe I’d stay here if I enjoyed being here!” I snapped back. “Or at least if I could stand being here for more than a few hours at a time!” I got up, ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the back door. I ran back into the woods and onto the ledge that I sat on earlier. I layed down, closing my eyes. Finally I can get some rest. I thought of how amazing it would be away from here, somewhere where I could be alone. I could feel the cold breeze scrape against my face, as I fell asleep, smiling.

    I woke up to the sound of a clock ticking rather loudly, but as I opened my eyes, I saw nothing. Am I imagining things? I stood up. Tick-tock, tick-tock. It repeated over and over in my head. I fell to the ground on my hands and knees. I looked up to see a dark, hooded figure, who quickly scurried back into the forest. Just like that, the ticking was gone. I looked into the backpack that I left here earlier and pulled out a map. As I stared at the map, I realized how close I was to the neighboring city. I could actually escape. I quickly ran away towards Amethyst’s house.

    I ran up and knocked on Amethyst’s door. I stood there and waited for a few seconds, but got impatient and just opened the door myself. Surprised to see nobody there, I started to walk upstairs.

    “Amethyst? You here?” I asked. Eh, she’s probably not home. I started to walk back downstairs when I heard a voice from upstairs.

    “Wait!” said the voice, which I guessed was Amethyst. I walked back up the stairs.

    “Hey,” I said. “What took so long?” Her door stayed shut.

    “Sorry,” she replied. “You just woke me up. I’ll get out now.” Amethyst opened her door and walked out.

“Okay so what do you want?” she asked somewhat impolitely, rubbing her eyes.

“We can escape this place,” I started. “We’re not far away from the closest city. Only a thirty minute walk.”

“Wait let me get this straight…” she replied annoyed. “We could’ve left this whole time? Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Amethyst and I ran as quickly as we could out of the front door and into the wild.

When we got deeper into the woods, we realized it would surely be tough to get through to the nearest city. It was freezing and dark. I could hear rustling in the nearby bushes.

“What’s that?” I whispered to Amethyst. “Is that you?” I didn’t get a response. I looked behind me where I thought Amethyst was and I couldn’t see her there. Panicked, I looked around everywhere, desperately trying to find her.

“Amethyst!” I screamed. Still nothing besides the eerie sound of the wilderness. I was far from civilization. I had no idea which way was which. Worse, I was all alone. I would surely die out here.

“Goodbye,” I whispered into the silence of the forest. I layed on the ground to await my final rest.

Dear Journal,

Have you ever talked to someone and later contemplated what it would feel like to never see them again? To never hear their voice again and just to be haunted by their last words? And the thought of the last words you said to them being your goodbye? Maybe you just never think of this until someone you loved leaves. Then you start to understand how meaningful each goodbye is, because each could be your last.

Goodbye for me was really an Aloha--a goodbye and a hello. It is used to greet someone and to say goodbye when you depart. But it also means so much more than that, as it is used only to greet someone for whom you feel love or compassion.

We first received the radical decree about three months ago: “All newborn males of the Hebrew race are to be killed at birth.” This was what Pharaoh believed was a reasonable answer to his problem with the Hebrew people. He was worried that the Hebrews would become too powerful and riot against the Egyptians, so this was the best initiative he could think of.

My mother is expecting a baby any day now, and I am very worried. ‘G-d, please keep my little sibling safe.’ We don’t know yet if it will be a girl or boy but I know my parents are very worried thinking about what they should do if the baby is a boy. Babies are very loud, mama and papa say. They say my little brother Aaron was a very loud baby. I am only seven years old and he was born four years ago, so I don’t remember him being born. I just remember him being my little brother who I will always protect.

One day later….

Mama had her baby today!!! The sad thing is, and I hope I won’t be sorry for writing this, but it’s a BOY! I hear mama and papa whispering at night deciding to hide him. I am worried for this, What if my precious baby brother is taken? What if I have to say goodbye to him forever? Many images and thoughts are floating through my mind. Mama says a young girl like me should not have to worry about things like that. BUT he is my brother! My brother! Oh, I would give anything to keep him safe in our house, but no one knows the future except for G-d above.

In times like these, G-d is my only strength because He promised my ancestors that He would keep His people in His hands. He said He would rise them up, but right now that’s not what I feel…..

Baby brother gets bigger and louder everyday. I’m worried a Egyptian guard will find him soon! I wonder what life he would have to live if he had to be hidden for fear of getting drowned in the Nile River? That thought scares me! What if I am never able to play with my baby brother like I do with my other little brother Aaron?

Three months later….

Today is the day…. mama and papa said we have to let go of baby brother. I helped mama make a basket weaved with bulrushes and covered with pitch and gooey slime. I could barely see to help her through my tears. So many thoughts torture me. How could Pharaoh do this to us? Does he not realize the pain and sadness that overwhelms your whole body? I look over my shoulder and see baby brother. There are no words to describe him. He is part of my life. I couldn’t imagine living without him now, without the innocent, bubbly baby who knows how to make me smile even through the tears.

He doesn’t know his future and he lives for each day, smiling always. I realize that he is just like the sparrows in the sky above, not worried about the future because they know that G-d will always provide for them. Papa reminds me of this.

Now the time is near when we will have to say goodbye. Papa says I have to be a big girl and take baby brother to the river and lay him in the reeds. He says it is my responsibility as his big sister. The unspoken truth is that we are making one of the most important decisions of our lives. We know not if he will survive even ten minutes in the Nile River, for there are many deadly snakes, spiders, huge animals, and crocodiles. But we’re taking the chance and the possibility that maybe he will survive. Maybe he will be delivered by G-d’s hands to someone in a place without the cruel law of killing innocent people, a safe haven where he can grow up. I won’t mind if he never remembers me. If only I can be sure he is alive and well somewhere, it won’t matter who he’s with. G-d will protect him, but just to be sure he is alive would be everything to me. Maybe in my dreams he will remember me…

As I sneak him to the river in the basket, his smile kills me inside, so I have to look away. It’s a cloudy day today and the day looks as I feel: sad and dreary. I lay him in the water and I feel a burden on my shoulders. I know I can’t take all day, because it will not get easier from here. It will only get worse if I don’t let go of him right now.

I kiss him one more time and I know I’ll never forget this moment. I lay him down in the water in his basket, and give the basket a light push. I watch as he slowly drifts off, cooing and moving his little arms… my little brother gone into the unknown…

I follow him down the river bank and pray nothing bad crosses his path.

A little while later….

I stop because suddenly my baby brother gets stuck in the reeds by the palace. I am very worried! That is where those evil and cold-hearted people live. I despise them all! The Pharaoh, the Queen, the Princess, the Princes, the soldiers! I do not care for any of them!

A servant girl is coming toward my baby brother and I can hear some muffled voices! Ah! My baby brother floated into the Princess’ bathing courtyard! I duck and gasp. I creep forward trying to catch what they’re saying, but I fear someone will connect me with him and kill us both! I watch her pick up the basket and open the lid. She gasped and a look of great distress fell on her face. She looked very shocked and was hesitant to tell the Princess of her discovery. But the Princess is a very clever girl and instantly read her servant’s face.

“Bring me the basket immediately!” Commanded the Princess.

I watched as the servant girl brought the basket and slowly lifted the lid off.

“Is that an…. Egyptian BABY? Boy?” The Princess gasped.

“Yes, your majesty. It is a baby of the Hebrew race,” Replied her maid,. “And it is a boy.”

“Oh poor thing,” cried the Princess.

“Please your majesty, if I find favor in your eyes please spare his life.” Pleaded the Princess’ servant.

The Princess looked upon my brother and found compassion towards him. I watched this scene and I could not believe my ears. I crept closer to make sure I was hearing and seeing right. This could not be true, my brother had a chance to be saved!

“Your majesty, what will you do with him?” Asked the servant girl anxiously. “You know the orders of your father, the Pharaoh, about the Egyptian baby boys….”

“This Hebrew baby shall not perish under my watch! I will protect him for he has found favor in my eyes.”

I don’t really understand how, but I felt an urge from somewhere deep down inside of me to go tell the Princess that she could get a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby for her. So with a sudden boost of boldness, I walked up to the Princess.

“Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to nurse the baby for you?” I asked her with my high hopes, hidden love, and care as only a sister can feel, displayed plainly on my face.

“Yes, go my dear. Take the baby, nurse him and I will repay you.”

I had no words for her, I stood in shock of this new reality. She looked at me and waited for me to answer, when I didn’t, she just said plainly- “Go now dear, and if anyone stops you tell them to come speak to me.”

“Thank you very much, your Majesty.” That was all I could breath out, my brother was going to live!!!!

I walked home thanking G-d for what He had done for me. I could not believe it. He really answered my prayers!

When I got home, I ran inside with the baby. He was giggling loudly because of the bumpy ride. I opened the door and there was my mother. She was trying to keep busy but I know her mind was only on one thing. She looked up at me with no tears in her eyes, it seemed she had no more tears, she had run out. She told me with much emotion in her voice. “Miriam, it will not get easier to put off the task. You must do it. Do you not understand--”

I quickly told her the story and she started to cry. I did not understand how she could be smiling AND crying at the same time! “Mother, why are you sad? He’s back to us and safe, forever now.”

She laughed which was very odd and said “It is tears of joy! Joy honey! Not sadness. We must thank G-d for saving our little boy.”

I hugged Moses close to me and smiled. I liked that name, Moses, Pharaoh's daughter had named him that.

In my heart thought I knew I would have to let go of him soon. Nothing lasts forever

Four years later…

This day is so unlike the other day when I had to say goodbye to my brother. Today I’ll be giving him away but still keeping him in my memories. Now I know he will be safe in the palace with the royals. He will not have to labor as a slave like all of the Hebrew race. A crucial difference that will be between us is that his skin will always be so pale compared to our skin as it will not be scorched from the sun after long endless days of slave labor under the Egyptian sun. Many people believe pale skin is the most beautiful and desirable skin color. I cannot imagine it any other way. People with tan skin are the ones who work the hardest and usually are of our Hebrew race. This is because only the rich people can get a job that is good enough to not be in the sun, laboring all day. This time I have mixed feelings--I am going to miss the baby, but he is going to a better place than we are in right now. I am very grateful that I got to have my time with him extended from three months to four years!

A while later….

I know my love for Moses! G-d has shown me that people will walk in and out of your life and sometimes you won’t understand why. But you have to try to live your life to the fullest because they might walk back into your life and you’ll have to accept that. I don’t know if I’ll ever see Moses again, or if he will remember me, but I have faith. G-d holds the future and He will fill that void in my life with His love for me.

I remember teaching you to drink. You were ready, you had said, to experience a different perspective of life. Cross country wasn’t fun anymore, and  you and your mom were fighting again. There was a small, weak part of my conscious that said “Stop, she’s too young,” but I ignored it. We were the same age; you only looked years younger. Your Justice pants matched perfectly with your sparkly flower shirt.

Before we left for the woods, you had to give your sister the four leaf clover you had found earlier that day. Scyler and I waited impatiently by the bus stop. We called out, told you to wrap it up so that we could catch the 3:17 bus. Your hands were still stained with dirt. You hugged your sister anyway and told her to go home and be with your mother. You watched her walk away -  the whole time until she was out of sight.

When we got there, the trees blocked out the afternoon sunlight. For a couple moments, it was dark. We sat. Our seats were rocks in the wet, sandy creek. There was green all around us and the strong aroma of alcohol as we opened the bottles.

You couldn’t stomach the taste. “It burns,” I remember you saying. Your face crinkled, and your eyes squinted until barely visible. I laughed it off, thinking to myself how much of a rookie you were. I had suggested you guzzle it, and so you had: downed your first beer in less than 15 seconds. A sip missed your mouth, splattered onto that purple flower shirt. I pretended not to be notice.

What I didn’t tell you was that it was my first time too. I had never been drunk, but passed off this discarding of innocence like it was nothing. In reality, my whole world was different, new. My peripheral vision began to blur, and my thoughts grew cloudy. The sour taste of alcohol drowned out the noises of cars beeping outside the woods, the feeling of my phone silently vibrating in my pocket.

When our stolen bottles were empty, we competed to throw them the farthest. I don’t remember who won. What I do is the sound of the empty, hollow bottles clang against the wet rocks of the creek. It echoed through the small clearing like a scream in a cave.

You then turned to us, me and Scyler, with a weird expression on your face. A noise not unlike a kitten’s whine came out of your mouth. You kept your face locked in a position I have never seen anybody make: your nose scrunched, your eyes shut just enough, and your lips curled upward. You stayed that way for a while.

Later, after you tried to fight Scyler, you disappeared. Where, I do not know. One moment, you were sitting, staring at the sky. The next you were gone. We found you crying, but for what reason I do not know. You started gushing about anything and everything. In the midst of your slobbery, rambling rant, you called me pretty. I was too flattered to pay attention to what you were saying.

I remember teaching you how to lie in the back of the 32C bus, going downtown. You wanted people to believe you, but you were a terrible liar. You just got tripped up every time, you said, clearly upset. When you talked about your family, your neck became buried in the large grey sweatshirt you so often started to wear. You would run your hand through your hair as your face started to get red and your voice strained.

I decided to help you out. What little conscious I had insisted that it was for the best. I laid out the necessary things you needed to know: slip the lie in with truths; be casual, don’t appear like you’re trying to force the audience into believing anything; believe your lie.

We practiced on each other, telling lies and truths about our lives. I told you my cat died. You said your uncle was moving back in, and you couldn’t be home anymore. I responded with tales of my make-believe summer boyfriend. You tilted your head back and laughed, showing all of your teeth and making onlookers on the bus turn around.

You had dreams of being in theater. I could tell you enjoyed this, even though you couldn’t do it right. The lie was too blatantly obvious whenever you spoke. I told you, one last time: “Slip the lie in like it’s nothing, adding it in like a tiny detail. Who would lie about something so small?” I was showing off my knowledge of lying, and you were buying into it, with your wide, open eyes. Finally I had found a use for the pointless lies I had told since fifth grade. Our conversation dwindled off. I found myself staring into the grey material of your hoodie.

It didn’t even cross my mind that I shouldn’t be teaching you this. I was enjoying the attention, basking in it like a snake does the sunshine. It was only a couple months later, when you told me you were fine, that I believed it. That was the only time I couldn't tell if you were lying or not. 

The cloudy green substance in my palm stank up the air like stale perfume, a month after the first woods incident. Scyler, you, and I all stared at it with undivided attention. “I’m not sure…” you started to say softly, but after catching sight of the glint in our eyes you stopped talking. There was nothing else to be said.

Upon returning to those woods, the bush acted as our shield from the outside world as we blew cloud after cloud. You swirled your fingers in it, making odd shapes and patterns that only made sense to you. It was funny, it seemed, and we all laughed harder than we had in months. At one point, there was a comfortable silence as we all stared at our surroundings; I had my eyes locked on a brown leaf on the ground, Scyler gazed intently at the sky, and your eyes were focusing on my face.

You broke the silence, something you were starting to do frequently. “We should run away.” Normally, a statement like that would have annoyed me, but right then I couldn’t have cared less. I laughed, enjoying the airy feeling in my head. I tried to respond, but my words couldn’t travel to my tongue before I forgot what I was going to say. The quiet whisper of the trees took over.

We must have been there awhile, because what seemed like minutes led to your mom texting you, “Be home now or you’re grounded for two weeks.” The smiles flipped on our faces as we all figured out what in the world we could possibly do to cover. The smell? Our behavior?

In the end you slung on the shirt you kept in your bag for cross country practice. You didn’t need it anyway, having skipped practices for weeks now. You didn’t know what to do with the shirt you had on, so in a spur of the moment decision you decided to throw it in your neighbors dumpster as we walked you home. It was the same shirt from the first day in the woods. I could almost see that purple flower on the front wilting as it was thrown next to cat litter and dirty tissues, and the sparkles on the front seemed to stop shining.

On March 8th you were rapidly talking about something you did while you were high. I was not there that time. I had to hear the story while slowly cranking out algebra after algebra problem. I was halfway paying attention, only enough to catch the idea of the story.

You were adamant that I know not only the ending, but the beginning and every detail in between. Your eyes were wild. You kept swinging your dyed hair over your shoulder for emphasis. Even though you were a private person, your tone kept getting louder and louder, only to have it shushed as I tried to focus.

“But then when I got home, it was-” My attention dropped off every couple seconds as you kept talking. Your voice had dropped to a reasonable level, but I hardly noticed. “My mom just kept going-” Scyler was to my right, asleep in class as she used to be most of the time. My patience was waning but I didn’t have enough energy to bother doing anything about it. “Hitting and threatened to-” I couldn’t figure out the second to last problem on the sheet. I was so close to finishing it. So close. “But then I didn’t-” your voice had dropped to a mere whisper at this point, so soft the people beside you couldn’t hear. I could focus on my work a lot easier. I was almost done. “Was over.” You finished talking, but I didn’t know. Not until I interrupted with a harsh tone of shut up. I didn’t look at you, instead focusing on the paper in front of me.

You started to walk out of class. Scyler called after you, suddenly awake, asking if you were alright. You turned around, face red, eyes narrow, saying “I’m fine.” For once, I couldn’t tell if you were lying or not.

You were. I only realized it after, but after was too late. The last time I saw you was when you gave me a look filled with hatred and rejection. I haven’t seen you in 8 months, but your face still appears every time I close my eyes. They tried to replace you with a photoshopped, filtered memorial picture in the yearbook, but that will never be you. You were of unbrushed hair, liquid eyeliner, and that ugly flower shirt. But when you walked out of math, your previously favorite class, you walked out of life forever.

Anna gasped. “I can’t decide!”

“You must Anna,” Jane reminded her reassuringly.

“Some decisions are to difficult to be made,” she choked. “Why couldn’t Mom be here? She would know what to do.”

Jane squeezed her younger sister’s hand. “This is your choice, Anna. I can’t decide for you. You were made for this moment.”

The looming decision haunted Anna. Beads of sweat formed on her wrinkled brow. She must choose, and soon. This was a decision she would need to make over and over for the rest of her life... until she died. And she wasn’t dying anytime soon.

“Jane,” she whispered, unsteadily, “I’m ready.”

“You’ve got this,” her sister replied.

Anna stepped forward and took a big gulp of air. Her panic melted away.

“I’ll take a triple chocolate peanut butter surprise on a waffle cone topped with gummy bears, and chocolate Jimmies please!” she exclaimed.

“Finally,” sighed the exasperated server, “I thought you would never choose.”

Anna and her sister ran to meet their mom who had been waiting patiently in the car.

“What took you so long?” their mom asked.

Anna and Jane smiled at each other silently and licked their cones with relish.

Just a drop of the tea burnt my tongue, so I will wait. I tried to feel if it was cool without getting hurt. The ceramic cup was still hot, so I should have known better. I was impatient.

    The world is fading. Colors that appeared not long ago are covered, hiding back under the blankets of white. For the common symbolism of the most reflective color, it covers the sky and turns it dark. It looks as if a painter made the mistake of putting highlights of white upon the tops of every surface. The places where shadows would lie are now the only contrast, for shades and tones are overwhelmed by snow.

    I want to describe the world, but I am prideful. Words that others have used are not for me. For simplicity sake, I may have said: “the snow was falling, the world turned white.” But I worry about when we will run out of new words for timeless things. I strive to leave no phrase unturned, and my ambition will leave no words for you.

    My tea has not yet cooled, and it is the perfect warmth to drink. A deep warmth to counter the white.

Out the door I step: boots tied, coat on, hood pulled up, hands in gloves. The dim light of a snowy night engulfs me, as by the house’s light my shadow advances into the yard. My feet crunch soft and my eyelashes turn to ice and the peace of the night surrounds me. The darker forms of trees reaching into the silver sky call to me. I step over to a patch of clean beautiful snow between the hemlock and sassafras trees. The unpacked snow welcomes me as I recline. The cold touch of snow on my face asks me to relax. My mind quiets. All that exists is the sound of snow hitting snow, and the cold on my face. I fall into peace.

Remember that time when you came to my house wearing a pale blue hoodie and black joggers, your dark hair hadn’t been touched or tampered with since you opened your eyes to a new day that gray morning. Remember that time when your intimidating yet soft brown irises stared right into mine; the varied shades of brown, constructing patterns; oceans and waves; ribbons and folded fabrics; blending and mixing together, creating something amazing. Art. An entire undiscovered universe. Nervous, I didn’t know whether to look away, or take the risk of losing myself in that universe. So you kissed me. Remember that? You probably don’t, because it never happened. I wish it did. If I ever have control over the world, I’ll make it happen, among many other things. I know why you hate me, I wasn’t born yesterday. But you don’t really have the right to hold any opinions on me. You heard I did this? You heard I did that? Oh no! I’ve been exposed! Guess I’ll have to go crawl in a hole and feel sorry for myself, like I’m supposed to. Piss off. Whether anything you heard is true or not, if it IS, honey, you don’t know the story behind it. You heard I killed my cousin? Guess what, he didn’t even die when I ‘murdered’ him. He’s still living and breathing at this very moment. He’s probably with his fat cat in his smelly apartment, watching some weight loss program on TV. OKAY? He’s doing just fine! And to be quite honest, he deserved even worse than he got.

You and I, see we’re supposed to be together. That’s how it was planned, since the beginning of time. I got some sort of message a long time ago. It has to happen, or everything will turn to shit! The building blocks will all come crashing down on us, everything will be completely wrong. We need to follow the plan, whether we want to or not.

If you end up reading this, I know how you’ll react. You’re probably going to try to get another restraining order on me, (which by the way, will not stop me, so why don’t you save yourself the trouble) and you’re going to bring up that time when I carved your name into my skin with merely my very own fingernails, and how I grabbed your arm so firmly in the hallway, your musk rubbing off of you and onto me, as I dragged you to the other side of the school. You were extremely willful and squirmy, it made everything so difficult! You caused me to fail my attempt at carving my name into your forearm, just as I had done to myself with yours. You were like a blank canvas, ready to be painted. We could be connected, forever attached by a bond that can never be broken. Unfortunately, my mission was unsuccessful, and it’s your fault :)

Much love,

-Missy

Missy is by far the most twisted girl I’ve ever met. I hate to admit it, but sometimes I find myself crawling out of my skin just thinking about her and everything she’s done. Her warm breath pounding down my neck as her hoarse voice whispers in my ear, speaking some of the most disturbing words I’ve ever heard escape from a person’s throat. Things you hear in the movies from former serial killers. I even got a restraining order on her a year ago, me being stupid enough to think that would keep her away. Waste of effort and money. She’s like a parasite. The weird thing is, even though I hate her, there’s a part of me that just wants to know what goes on in her head. What causes her to be the way she is? She was probably just born crazy. Does SHE know she’s crazy?

“Missy! Missy! You know you’re crazy, right?”

“Am I really crazy, or are you just brainwashed?”

“Exactly!”

“Stop talking to me,” yeah, it’d go something like that.

Maybe she went through some insane trauma as a kid- or maybe someone tried experimenting on her and failed. Maybe she was a cocaine baby? Nah. That’s ridiculous. But not impossible. Everyone at school calls her; “Maniacal Missy,” I mean, was that really the best they could come up with? I remember one rainy day, she somehow managed to sneak into the main office and got on the loudspeaker. It was kind of amusing, especially since you could hear our principal in the background grunting and struggling to keep her under control as she recited some disturbing content aloud to the entire school. She was suspended later that day, figures. Missy is the students source of entertainment. It’s pathetic if you think about it. Our lives are really that bland that we turn to observe someone else’s. Her life may not be boring, but it can’t be all fun and games.

Hello, good morning, how are you.

Hello, good morning, how are you.

Hello, good morning, how are you.

These are the phrases you will hear at your local shops, from your doctors, hairdressers, cashiers, people you’re meeting for the first time, almost anyone at one point or another. Human brains have been turned into scripts and influenced from the media. We have every response, every facial expression, every tone of voice built into our heads and split into categories of when to say this, or when to do that, all according to what or who we are responding to, and what they said or did, and of course, how they said or did it. It is an extremely confusing cycle. My one and only friend Fran, she died a few years ago, but still talks to me. She says I am a narcissist for my ideas and beliefs. I say “No! You’re just crazy!” but then I remember, I’m talking to a dead person. Anyways, how’s your home life going? Hmm? Tell me about it. Your cat died? Oh gosh I’m so sorry! Your grandmother is in the hospital? Oh, I’ll pray for her.

I awaken each morning joyful about the decreasing number of days before I get to feel your presence again. Although I am not looking forward to school, I have other things to be excited for. And I hope you know, you’re why I get out of bed every single day, you’re why I feel the sensation of the rough carpet scraping against the bottoms of my dry feet each morning as I make my way to the toilet. You’ve become my reason. Everyone has a reason. Sometimes, they never really understand what their reason is. But I’m one of the lucky ones. Because I know for a fact that you, you’re mine.

I have yet to make up my mind about whether I will ever give you this stack of letters. Maybe if you just take the time to read these you’ll want to be with me, and this is the only way I can really talk to you. I almost keep forgetting how much you hate me. But, do you really? Or, is it just an act? Hmm? I bet you have lovely nightmares about me, you just never told anybody. I bet you wake up to find your sheets clinging on to your sweaty skin. I bet as you’re reading this you have a confused expression on your face. Your eyebrows are joining in the middle of your forehead. Now, you begin to open your mouth. You shake your head in denial and decide to keep reading so you can get this over with. I know you hate to read. I wonder how long it will take before I’ve completely consumed you. I can only imagine the rush of adrenaline zooming around bouncing off the walls inside my body  when I first spot your shadow. And that exquisite little scar that’s always looming right above your left eyebrow. I love that scar. I’ve always wanted to know how you got it. Tell me one day.  

I shouldn’t be awake right now. It’s 4:35 am. In two hours my obnoxious alarm is going to start blasting into my ears, disrupting any sort of sleep or silence that I have left. Hopefully I’ll fall asleep while I’m writing this. I can feel my body overflowing with anxiety; I’m exhausted, but too restless. I really hope Missy doesn’t pull anything or cause any scenes tomorrow.

Goodnight.

Tomorrow, tomorrow I will see you and hopefully give you all these letters. Don’t run away from me, much love,

Goodnight. :)