Dear Mom and Dad,

I keep picking up my phone asking myself if I should call.  I don't know if I should.  It's only been a day since we last spoke and I don't have anything left to talk about but I feel that I should.  The majority of our calls are the same but there's a reason for them.  Maybe not to talk but to share in a moment.  A moment that we feel we are losing as our time on Earth slips through our clenched fingers.

If we were home, perhaps we would be watching tv instead, or chasing Michael around the house.  Instead, we sit on the phone thinking up things, anything really, to talk about.  But it doesn't matter.  That's just how it is.

I keep thinking of my life leading up to this moment:
The dome house
Lighthouse Point
Ormond-by-the-sea
Sturbridge
Fiskdale
Washington
Glastonbury
and Boston- The big city with its bright lights, traffic jams, and ocean view.  The 8 a.m. classes, and the 9 p.m. end of the work day.  Work day?  Work day.

And who would have thought that this would have gone by so fast.  Who would have thought that time would have faded away and instead of being children, we've all grown up.

But when you stop to think about it, you see the sandy beaches, the orange sunsets, and the never ending A1A.  You smell the steaks on the table, the ocean air, and the baby shampoo in the bathroom.  And you feel a sense of love that is non stop, never ending, infinitely expanding as our lives lead us astray.

Do you have any regrets?  Anything you wish that you could take back?  I don't think that you should.  Living with a sense of regret takes away from living each day with a sense of pride and purpose.
Do you think you would do it all the same?  Because I think I would.  I think I would take the good and the bad all over again.

And I don't know what we're put on Earth for but I can tell you what I've taken from it, even if it may not seem too monumental:

If you love and live with a sense of compassion, you will see the world through a whole new lens.  Forgive even when it hurts to.  Love even when you feel the most hate.  Hating someone will only empower that person; kill him with kindness if you have to.  Don't give people a reason to hate you, only a reason to love you.

I don't know what exactly it is that I believe in.  I guess it's just love.  I don't know if I'm right or wrong.  But I know that that's what you both taught me so that's how I'm going to live.

I'm going to live each day with these phone calls that are meant to make up for lost time together.  If you will answer, I will call.  And even if you don't, I'll still try.  There's got to be something that can make up for the missed hugs, forgotten laughs, and moments that will never be that should have been.  I wish that we could stop all of this.  Stop the time, stop the everything.  We could bring it all to back to how it used to be.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I love you and miss you everyday.

For ever and for always,
Your Loving Daughter
Boo

I am a spoon fed replica of the world around me.  I do what I am told and ask only when the instructions are unclear.  When the sun is out, I am awake.  When it disappears below the horizon and the moon rises up, I must sleep because that is what I have been taught.  I do not drink because it is evil and drugs are creations of Satan himself.  I do not talk back because it is disrespectful nor do I speak unless spoken to.  My imagination is confined to a box. I know politics like the back of my hand, and by that, I mean that I don't.  There are constantly new cuts, bruises, freckles and callouses that arise without explanation.  However, I know the alphabet and can recite it forward and back without rhyme nor reason.  I don't know where it came from but I know what it is; that's all that's necessary, right?

I am the robotic youth being told that in order to succeed I need to think outside the box.  I don't even know what the box is that they're telling me to think outside of.  All I know is that I want to find something more worth living for than these monotone days.  A life without a man standing in the front of the room telling me how to think, and instead, telling me where to go to seek adventure, to open my mind.  I close my eyes and see a land of pleasure and pain, love and hate, whereas all that I see around me is a bland mixture churning into itself a grey sludge with chunks of unpasteurized slime.

I am the 20/15 visioned student-athlete competing to be the best at everything around me.  I have thousands of teammates and thousands of enemies.  No one knows me but then again, no one forgets me.  My life is spent loving and hating what I do.  I do not know why I do it, I just do.  Nike has brainwashed the masses. We are living for the sake of living without understanding how it is that we breathe.  I am not a product.  I am a society.

letters

Dear Andrew,


I was never lying when I used to tell you that you were my hero.  To be honest, you were.  You were the closest thing to a friend that I had back then.  As I flip through the photo albums, I wonder when things began to go astray and ask myself, "Am I the one to blame?"  Mom and Dad always said no but I would be a liar if I told you that I believed them.
I don't know when and where things went sour for you.  You were so smart, hell, you still are if you would just pull your head out of you ass and think, for once.  I was always jealous, I still am, about how everyone loved you.  You're so funny, so smart, so clever.  So fuck you, I always worked harder than you and never got anything in return.  I got a "better luck next time" and a "if you work hard, it will show."  But you had it easy, and when you fucked up bad, you were sent to therapy while I sat in my room wondering where my life had gone.  You stole what was mine and I can never have it back.  I don't care how long ago it was, the wound still feels fresh on my skin.  And every time it starts to heal, you pick away at the scab letting it fester and ooze rotten blood from the past.
I would be a liar if I told you that I hate you.  I don't.  To be frank, I never could.  But I want to.  I want to so bad that sometimes I almost convince myself that I do.  I want so badly to convince myself that it's not my fault or, better yet, to convince myself that it never even happened.  But where did my hero turn and run off to?
You once promised that you would always protect me.  You lied.
You once said that you were going to get your life back together.  I'm looking but see nothing but shattered memories and a stitched soul trying to be complete.
...
Dear Andrew,

I miss you.
Please come home.

Love,
Your waiting sister

The Pursuit of Happiness

It's a long, quiet ride home from an even longer day.  A little girl slouches in the back seat of her father's big silver truck, against the window.  More likely than not, she is sleeping.  She is letting the day fade away into the rainy, dark night that lays on the other side of the thin window.  Her father sits in the front seat, fearless, though he's tired and has only five hours of sleep left before he has to drive in the opposite direction to work the next morning.

The radio to a minimum; his wife, daughter, and baby boy quieted by sleep, he must go this journey on his own.  Hours selflessly dedicated towards their children, mother and father, husband and wife, going the daily route together, alone.  Toes still numb from the icy skating rink, he wiggles them and scrunches his eyes to keep himself focused on the road.  The highway lights lead the long way home.

He looks to his right to see his beautiful wife holding her head up with window and hand.  Her grasp on his hand grows weak as she slips into a sweet dream.  In that moment, a lifetime flashes before him and his shoulders slouch with relaxation.  They have made it this far when no one believed that they could.  They triumphed where others failed.  And he is happy.  So happy that everyday he can come home knowing that he is loved and has a family to love.

His baby boy yawns quietly behind him as his eyes flicker open and then closed again.  His soft face, pale in the moon's dim light is peaceful.  His fearless father dips his head and says a prayer for his dear child.

 "Dear God, please bless him.  Please let him lead a happy life without fear, hatred, or suffering.  Lord, I beg of you, please protect him.  I ask of you with everything that I have left within me... within my heart.  My soul.  God, please."


A silent tear rolls down his cheek but he wipes it away as he pulls into the driveway, ending a long drive on an even longer night.  He gently squeezes his wife's hand and wakes her.  She looks up at him and says, "I love you."  As they open their doors, their daughter startles awake, though she continues inside as though in a dream.  They unload their baby boy and carry him upstairs to put him to bed.  After a changed diaper, change of clothes, and a kiss on the forehead, they turn off his light and stand in silence.  She lets her head rest on his chest for a moment then walks down the hall to check on their daughter.  She is safe and asleep.  They close her door until it is only open a mere crack then walk back to their room to crawl into bed.

The darkness fills their vision and takes them into a dream world.  A world of calm and clarity.  Where nothing bad ever happens except the possibility of a rainy day, and even those are welcomed with open arms. He pulls his wife close, takes a deep breath and submerges his mind into the sleep induced coma falling over him. And in this moment, he is happy.  

Sun Shining

Sun shining down on my day
I pray that you do not go away
Do not go away,
-not on this beautiful day

Slowly drowning

and no one can save me

Just a rose that lost her thorns

A bird with clipped wings

I'm broken,

or rather,

Breaking with nothing to hold me together

Hold me together

while I fall apart

I keep closing my eyes
with the attempt to let it all go
to let tomorrow fade away into the rising tide
to let forever
    just
stop

Yesterday seemed so easy,
today, so difficult

Tomorrow... I don't even want to think about,
but as the moments slip away
There seems not to be a choice

Not a light at the end of the tunnel,
not a phrase that will take it all away

It is inevitable


I have fallen apart.