Complaints

I am tired. I'm tired of working hard day after day without it paying off. I'm tired of going through the motions of life and feeling like there is no point. No reward. I'm tired of missing my family. I'm tired of walking down the halls of school and being shoved around. I'm tired of not having a say. Not having a voice. Not having a presence. I'm tired of snow. I'm tired of cold....because really, it's almost April. I'm tired of being made to look like the bad guy. I'm so tired of fake people. Two-faced smiles. Venom stares.  I'm tired of old best friends that I hardly recognize anymore. I'm tired of feeling tired. I'm tired of people asking me whats wrong just to know, not because they genuinly care. I'm tired of girls being obsessed with Justin Bieber. Honestly, he is just a teenage boy. Not a God. I'm tired of "That's what she said". I'm tired of the radio playing the same songs over and over again. I'm not tired of sarcasm at all. I'm tired of the lack of innocence.I'm tired of Distrust. Suspicion. Corruption. I'm tired of feeling like a tiny person in a huge world. I'm tired of...hesitation. I'm tired of not making a difference. I'm tired of all of the people in the world that dont truly understand what it means to be tired.

Love

Love is is a kiss on the forehead every morning. A whisper. Love is the key to a safe place. Love is holding the door open for them. Leaving a card next to their bed just to let them know that they are appreciated. Love is a Saturday afternoon. Love is carrying your fallen teammate across the finish line. Love is a room with white walls, and a brand new package of sharpies. Would you stay up all night with me if I were sick? If I were in pain, would you wish it upon yourself instead? You are my friend, and I love you. When you are sad my heart aches for you to feel better. You are my husband, and I love you. I wait by the window every night until I see your car pull into the driveway. You are my mother, and I love you. I travel 4 hours every weekend to see you so you don't miss me when I am off at college. Love is so different for everyone, Yet almost the same. You are a stranger, and I love you. I give up some of my luxuries so that you can eat tonight. Love is April, May, and June. Love is Knowledge. A blank page and an inspired mind. Love is donating and organ to someone whose life depends on it. Love is opening your heart to someone who needs a friend. Love is running into a burning building for someone you don't even know. Love is giving up your dream so that they can have all of theirs come true. Love is a half remembered dream. Love is rocking your baby to sleep every night at least three times a  night. Love is never giving up.

Memories...

   A sea of black suits and dresses gathered near the entrance to the church. Even though my hand was clamped tightly to my brothers palm, I remember being afraid of losing him in the crowd. We stopped every once in a while and I looked up at the sad faces above me. We squeezed through two ladies who were talking about life and things that I couldn't comprehend.
 
   The sea of black started to part as people began to find their seats. I kept hearing whispers like "So young....too young..."  and words that I didn't understand like "tragedy". Before I could give them too much thought, I was pulled forward. My mother appeared as the two dark suits moved out of my line of vision. She was sitting on a pew to my left, her eyes blankly stared ahead as if she didn't even notice me standing 3 feet away. I took slow dragging steps towards that sad face that was always hardest for me to see.
She sat straight and cold, patting her tears away with an already damp handkerchief. She gripped that handkerchief so tightly in her shaking hands...
 
   It was so strange for me to see this. Usually the situation was reversed, I cried, and mom would comfort me. I was growing more and more confused. I was only six after all. My mind couldn't come up with any answers that day. I'd like to say that I had said something innocent and cute, or something somewhat wise for my young age. I'd like to say that I even said anything at all. No. Even now, 11 years later, this thing called death confuses me.

   There are some times in life when there is simply nothing to say. Apparently I learned this early on, because not one sound came out of me. I just sat there. Lips tightly sealed. Eyes straight ahead. Shuffling uncomfortably in my itchy, black, funeral dress.