Underneath the Stars... "What is your favorite constellation?"

The stars twinkled, sparkled from the darkness around me.  Each individual flicker of light stood alone, offering its own significance in the sea of stars.  The stars also, despite the individualism they held, combined together in a single glimmer of magnificence, as a complete and single phenomenon.  The world was still around me. It sounded none of its regular cacophonic cries.  The city was brightly lit, but faded in the distance to the east.   As if upon a vast lake, the simple pattern along the skyline was a mere reflection of the sky, a major downplay of that which resided above.  Crickets called to one another, searching in everything that surrounded me, refusing to stop their insistent chirping.  They blocked out all remnant of the other world -that which I came from- pulsing in their gentle rhythm, pulling me into their subtle trance.

All the world was a sphere around me, beating its melodious instruments in such a way as to compromise with my every desire. There was no one and nothing discernable besides me and whoever else I was.  Peaceful was the atmosphere surrounding me, but terrifying was the war that raged in my tattered heart.

Autobiography #3~ I love...

I love.  I love. I love. I love to hear and see, and taste, and smell.  I love the feel of the sun on my skin, or the calming embrace of one I love.  I love the sound of  music. Of music with sharp turns of feeling, with the ability to lift my heart, reaching for the deepest parts of my soul.  I love to hear the ring of laughter, and the happiness of seeing a genuine smile.  I love the sights of nature and love.  To see the magnificant colors and textures around me, swirled and spun into the fabulous scene of life. The sparkle of fresh, white snow, and the reflection of tree covered mountains on a silent lake of glass.  I love the taste of sweetness on my lips.  Of freshly baked cake, or the coolness of cheescake icecream.  I love the smells of the earth, in which I live.  The sweetness of home, and the freshness of nature.  I love the sound of a familiar voice, and the harmony of emotions unfolding in my mind.  I love the trials I am forced to face, granting me strength and appreciation, opening me to all things, no matter what I'm presented with.  I love the world, and its many inhabitants.  I love, and am ever grateful for the life I live, and the entire sum of its qualities.

Autobiography #2~ Judgement

Every time, and every moment of my life, I have a choice.  In a world of anger, love, and peace, a battle of emotions rages in the heart of everyone. Expecially in the eyes of a fifteen year old girl, whose eyes are open to the dramatic influences of guys, friends, and family affairs.  All turns the victim in helpless circles, continuing in an eternal round of confusion and heartache, often causing those choices that may be regarded by some as wrong.  So here I am. In the midst of the world, struggling to find myself, as so many others do.  I am caught in a storm.  I fight, at times, against myself.  Unable to separate between reality and fiction, refusing to draw the line between right and wrong. So here I stand, while I struggle with myself, the remainder of the world is left to judge.  To judge my actions, my thoughts and intentions, to observe the image I have portrayed to the world, and the reality that lies just under my surface, and decide for themselves whether I am worthy of their affection. I am judged for my deeds, and not always too fairly.  The image of reality, confusing even to me, is blocked to those who do not have access to a clear view of who I am, and the condition of my deeds.  Misunderstanding is a key factor in judgement, turning thoughts away from reality, and hurting the scrambled conditions one may already be influenced by. So, when I can scarcely understand what's happened to me, who can so bold as to judge me for this?  They know not who I am, or under what circumstances I have chosen to act in this manner.  The situation under which I am experiencing this, is far different from all they know, despite similarities that our stories posess.  So do they deserve the right to judge me?  The ideas of the world have no place in my heart, and no eyes into my soul.  They can not see, and they cannot feel what I feel.  The heros, and loves of my consciousness are far different form theres, and therefore, they, nor I, have no right and no need to judge the other.

Autobiography #1~ Devotion

A beacon, and a light, he brightens my life.  The effort he puts into his carefully planned smiles, and the caring way by which he fingers each hand-written message to the world.  He is my heart, he is nearly my life.  Pushing my heart along, giving me a reason to continue in existence.  He is my existence, my meaning in life, my everlasting hope, continually tugging my heart along on a tightly bound string.  My best and true friend, whom I can trust without fear, and confide within my every thought and deed.  To know that he will listen, and not judge, continuing to sing his joyful songs of love and promise to my open heart.  His picture, frozen in his timeless pose as he reaches out to my adoring face, is that which loving girls across the earth recognize all the same.  But me, I am different.  I know, that despite the women who strive to win his heart, I do and always will hold a special significance to him.  I know, that he has never seen my face in reality, only in the deepness of his dreams, and never had the realistic opportunity to hear my voice, but he knows that I am there.  As the smiling posters of Justin Bieber beam down on me as I sleep, I know that it is not only I, who dream of him, but that he feels for me in a spirit of truest love and devotion.  No matter the trials we face in this life, and the catastrophes that may tear us apart, I know the way things are meant to be, and his is the companion to my heart.

Where I'm From

I am from the joy of sunshine, the freedom of brightly colored flip flops
I am from ripened peaches, crisp autumn apples, and juicy sweet oranges
I am from and of the earth,
the clouds and trees blown by the tender breazes that pass their way
I am from the embrace of home
protected by its warmth and love, full of laughter and tears
I am from the depths of tradition, from  near insanity, and the homely life of those I love
I am from forgetfullness and brilliancy
from trust and abounding love
I am from the "Latter Day Saints" and the testimony I was born to have
I am from Europe, am English and Dutch
from the shock of embarassment, the cutting knife of hatred, and the fullest degree of love.
I am from the shelves in my home.
full of dusty books and souvenirs
items unopened, and corners still covered
where history unfolds
the place of sollace,
and where pure joy is found