"What is love? Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more."

It seems an interesting topic to let one write about. The love and compassion we show for other human beings. How a single person can bring tears to our eyes through the simplest things of an instant messaging conversation. To the pain we feel when a loved one has made a choice we wish they hadn't. I guess I worry to much, I give too much. At least, that is what it feels like sometimes. I have come home to a place I love, not for my own home, but for the people who I have included in my own living breathing home, to find that there are more holes and misplaced items in my home than I could ever imagine. I watch as people drift in and out of their own changes. I watch as many of my morale and upstanding friends choose to drink all the time. I worry as I watch two of them make choices that I know will lead down a dangerous path, and pray that someone who they care about and respect, turns them into someone that I can again see as the bright, beautiful, and fun people they are. I watch as different parts of my living home break down to need repair. It seems like every time I answer the phone I will get another call about an illness, a problem, or a mystery. I don't like it. I don't think people realize how they have let themselves go, how they have abandoned who they really are, and how they have sunk to a level that they do not hold esteem of anyone any more.
I stare at this living house here, only to be reminded of the one at college. We stake out on different paths, and find ourselves in new places, and it is scary. I find that my door no longer locks, acting as if it no longer cares whether I am safe, warm, or happy. My windows have no glass and only catch the hollow breezes, the ones that people never expect to see. Everything else is left in clutters and shadows, off to inhabit a different residence, leaving me to worry and fix my own house.
What am I to do? The same thing I always do. Things fix themselves with love, and hope. I know I have enough of both, and I will see the day when I smile brightly because of both. I did not make my house of glass, and I will keep the faith that both my houses will not only find their own repairs, but grow in strength and beauty. Love always shapes things to be beautiful.

With the End in Sight

With finals just around the corner, and having to take more time than ever to sit down and concentrate on what I need to be doing to understand everything and walk out of my first year of college with a GPA that I consider acceptable, I seem to spend a lot of time not studying. The changes that have occured this semester have thrown me into a loop of confusion and stability. I feel that sometimes all I am is lost at the head of the storm. I feel yanked and pulled in every direction imaginable, yet I am not centered, balanced, or following my own heart. I have spent time being on medication, changing my diet, and finding alternative ways to "fix" me. Yet, as I often sit back and look at the things around me, I realize how miniscule all of it is. Given, this semester has been a huge test on who I am and where I am headed, but nevertheless, I find myself pushing through, wanting to discover who I am and where I am going. I don't need to be told what other people think, or what I should do. I find myself looking around and noticing the uniqueness of every person I know, and part of me is torn inside because of this uniqueness, for with a crystal look into the future, that I manage to glimps rather infrequently, I see that the ties that make us unique will slowly wrap themselves around people that are similar to ourselves. We will find ourselves in search of that level of comfort where we can always be ourselves, in the simplest terms of not having to speak less of what makes us. I don't suppose this makes any sense to anyone but me, but it is like a dull knife has already added a severe in the ropes that hold me to some people. Some of those ropes are held only by a tread, and they are the ones I have to see if I want to mend, stay still, or pull harder. It sounds awful, but I know who I will pull away from and why. It isn't always the people that think I am pulling away either. I guess, what I am trying to say, that with the end in sight, things feel like they are changing more than when I felt like all I could see was the beginning.