A Writer's Best Friend.

Coffee.

Steaming
sweet
warm
and oh so--
comforting.

The warm porcelain mug held loosely between your fingers,
and the smile on your face as you lift it to your lips.

Sweet
warm
comforting.

Gears turn and
words become thoughts
thoughts become
sentences and sentences become--

More coffee. Another sip, the hot mug pressed against your lips.

--stories
poems
everything comes to life.

The hurried clicking of keys on a typewriter
keyboard
the soft scratch of a pencil on rough lined paper.

Inhale,
exhale.

More.

Warm
sweet
comforting.

Relief.

He sat on the shore, running his fingers softly through the warm golden sand, only one thing on his mind. Was she thinking of him too? He sat and stared down at his tan fingers, scribbling fancy little letters in his beautiful handwriting into the soft sand. He looked down at the words one last time then sighed and swiped his hand gently across them, erasing them from the sand beneath him but not his mind. He peered down for a moment at where the words once lay, then took a deep breath and looked out to the water lashing up to his feet. He watched as it reached for him, the clear crystal blue water washing slowly over his feet. He tried to force a smile upon his face as he felt the cool water embrace him. For once in the past few months he felt at ease. There was something about the clear blue sky above him that made him feel secure. Something about the soft warm sand around him that made him feel comforted. Something about the cool breeze in his thick black hair that made him feel free. Something about the clear blue water that made him feel loved. There was just something about the beach that always made him feel better, no matter what the situation was or how horrible it may be. The beach was his friend. The ocean, the sand, the sun, the sky, the wind, the rocks, they were the only things that cared enough to comfort him. People were cruel and ignorant of the pain he felt each day. So there he sat, for the first time in 154 days, a real smile on his face. Not a huge one, just a tiny grin. But a huge smile wasn't required. Even the tiniest smile could be the beginning of healing. The smallest gesture can mean so much when all you need is something to feel.

My Escape.

                I hopped in the car, tossing my bag in the backseat as I looked to the driver with a huge, bright, genuine smile plastered onto my young, pale face. My eyes traced the contours of his jaw, his lips, his nose, his eyes, and I just breathed it all in, smiling; happy. I pulled the car door shut and took a deep breath, still smiling. "Where are we going," I asked him, excited. He smiled, shrugged, looked at me, and then leaned in to kiss me.

                If you were to ask me a year ago if I would have ever expected to be where I am now, I would laugh in your face and tell you that that would be impossible. But here I am, sitting in the car with the love of my life, getting ready to leave this shit town. And go where? That's the best part. Who knows? My smile widened.

                "Road trip," he grinned sheepishly. He put the car in gear and backed up, as I rolled down the window and watched my house slowly fade away, feeling the warm summer breeze on my face and in my hair.

                Again, he looked at me with a smile on his face. I looked back at him and laughed. "What?" His smile remained. "Nothing, now where are we going?" I looked back to my house, and my smile faded. "I don't care. Just get me out of this fucking town."

                He chuckled. "Alright, darling," and reached over to hold my hand as we drove away from my own personal Hell. My face was starting to hurt from all the smiling, but if you want me to be honest, I've never been happier.

                He had always been my escape, there's no doubt about that. But until now, it had always been emotionally. If I was having a bad day, he would comfort me and make everything right in the world. If someone was making me feel like shit, he'd bathe me in compliments until I couldn't help but love myself almost as much as he loved me. It had always been him that would get me away from my thoughts and reality, but never once had he been able to physically get me away from my problems.

                "Music," I asked, looking at him hopefully. He smiled and lifted his hand to connect his phone to the car and put the music on shuffle. The first to play was our song, and I couldn't help but sing along. Crazy to think that only a year ago I thought perfection and happiness were merely vague concepts and palpable cravings.

                When the song was over, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and looked at me. "Do you mind, love?" I stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure, go for it." He hesitated, but grabbed the lighter in the cup-holder nonetheless and lit it. I couldn't help but let a tiny smile form on my lips as I saw him pull the cigarette from his lips and let the smoke escape his mouth. I leaned over and kissed him gently, the faint taste of smoke lingering on his lips. I inhaled deeply, taking in that all-too-comforting smell that brought about a deep nostalgia.

                

Bite Me.

I woke up gasping for air. I sat up in a hurry and choked to catch my breath. Inhaling rapidly, I realized that it was all just a dream. It was horrible, there was so much blood…the screams…it all seemed so real. I could feel the bite as if it had really happened. I looked down to my arm, startled to see a red bite mark. I lightly ran my fingertips over it as I took a deep breath. “What the…” My sentence trailed off. It was hard to keep my eyes open. Was I still dreaming? I touched it again and this time it sent a tingle down my spine. My fingers barely touched the wound, and immediately a jolt of pain shot through my arm. “Ah, shit!” I tried to keep my voice low. “Ow.” I looked at it confused. How had this even happened? Was that really a dream after all? I tried hard to figure out what had happened, but the last thing I remembered was going out to dinner with my mom and little brother. I touched it again, my fingertips brushing softly against the red wound, the sudden pain returning. It felt hot, like it was on fire. I shook my head. This just didn’t make sense. Finally, I felt my eyes begin to close as I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to the warm sunlight streaming in on my face. I yawned, stretching my arms up into the air. I sat up slowly, remembering last night. I looked at my left arm. The bite had turned from a pink irritation to a purple and deep red bruise. I poked it once more and the pain was unbearable. I sighed and got out of bed then began walking to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and ran a hand through my tangled hair. Man, I was a mess. Even then, I still looked decent. My silky chestnut brown hair was shiny and clean, my brilliant blue eyes shone bright, and my relatively pale skin glowed slightly in the light. I smiled and leaned forward to open the medicine cabinet. I reached in and moved over the toothpaste and other hygienic items to find a box of band-aids: empty. I groaned and fumbled around the medicine cabinet to find a box of Batman bad-aids. I sighed and closed my eyes, then picked up the box and pulled one out. It was nearly impossible to put the band-aid on my wound because of the pain, but I did it. I winced as it touched my skin. “Ah.” I grunted and closed my eyes. “Ouch.” I pressed it down and rubbed it on. “Ah. Ow. Jesus.” I closed my eyes. “Ah…”

I walked down the hallway at school in a daze; passing my friends, not saying a word. The pain was getting worse. I grabbed my arm and bit my lip in an attempt to choke down my tears. I hurried to class and tried to suck it up. With each second the pain increased. I tried as hard as I could not to cry. “Come on Nicole, you can do it…” I muttered to myself in an attempt to convince myself that everything was okay and I could make it through the day.

I pressed my pencil down hard onto my paper as I wrote. I looked up as Mr. Williams began to speak. His voice was loud, but slightly soothing in my time of need. He had the kind of voice that you could listen to all day, no matter what he had to say. He had the kind of voice that you would want to read you a book. He had that sort of fairy tale voice that was incredibly comforting for some reason.

“Okay class, I think it’s just about time to-” His sentence was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream. His eyes were wide with fear and surprise. “What was that? Or...who,” Mr. W. said with a concerned look on his face as he drifted toward the door. “Hold on class, one moment please.” He opened the door and peered out. Taking a step forward, he looked around. By now he was completely out of our vision; he had closed the door. Everybody started yelling and freaking out. Their voices seemed to get louder and louder. Finally I yelled out, “Everybody, just shut up! Jesus!” To my surprise, it worked.

We all sat and listened for some kind of answer to what was happening. I sat and watched the clock. After 2 minutes and 47 seconds we finally heard something. There was a muffled screeching sound, then silence. Then, a scream. It was Mr. Williams; his voice wasn’t hard to recognize. Everybody gasped, except me. The fear and tension screamed out as we all sat in our seats, knowing that something horrible was happening. Serena Stone got up to the door to see what had happened. She looked through the opaque glass above the wooden part of the door.

“Oh my god!” Serena gasped, turning around and putting her hands to her face, covering her eyes. At that point, everybody stood up and ran over to see what she had seen. I just sat in my chair, silent. I had known this was going to happen. I already knew what was going on. I took my band-aid off and looked at the bite. “It’s real…” I muttered under my breath. I closed my eyes and touched my wound, feeling the fiery pain build up. I opened my eyes again.

“What?” Mike Nodson looked at me with an expression I would never forget: a combination of true fear and concern. “What the hell are you mumbling about Nicole?” I kept my head down and my mouth shut. I could feel his eyes on me. After a minute I felt all 27 sophomore eyes surrounding me. I felt my words get caught in my throat. All I could say was one word:

“Run.”

The door came crashing down as a jock we all knew as Trevor Stern came stumbling in. There was blood on his whole body and a chunk of flesh bitten out of his neck. His eyes were glazed over and he looked stone cold. His skin had begun to develop a greenish tint. Serena was closest to the door; he pushed her to the ground and we all watched him eat her alive. The screams were terrifying and ear-piercing. We all felt the tears fall down our cheeks as our bodies shook with fear.

This was it.

Fading

And after everything you've said and all you've done to hurt me--I still catch my thoughts drifting to you.
And call my crazy but my heart still beats for you. 
After all the tears and blood I've seen, I still manage to whisper your name. 
All these scars and meaningless words and thoughts; they're all painful remnants of your existence. 
Slowly but surely, I'm dying without you: 
I'm fading. 
You know that smile you once called pretty? 
It's now left lost and forgotten in the back of my thoughts. 
But what would I be without you? 
Happy? 
Alive?
Nothing, nonetheless. 
Without you, I would've never known true love, loss, or real pain. 
So thank you; for loving me, and for leaving me.
For leaving me broken and scarred, and for never saying my name. 
For hearing my words, but never once listening. 
Thank you. 
For making me think that I'm useless, ugly, stupid, and nothing. 
For making me spend countless hours wondering why I will never be good enough for you. 
For giving me the lowest self-esteem and the largest trust issues that this world has ever seen. 
Nice to know I'll never fall for your lies again. 
Or your truth. 
What truth? 
Could it be possible that honestly flows from your lips? 
Or is it all just a mirage? 
The borderlines are blurring. 
Does this so-called "reality" exist, or is it all just my imagination? 
I'm mad: crazy.
I'm finally done. 
I can't take your games anymore. 
Goodbye. 
And please, don't call my name. 
The last thing I want is to hear your voice and find myself falling for you again.

Oh San Diego, How I Love You.

I'm sitting here at my internship, writing about tourist attractions in San Diego, and it's making me realize how freaking gorgeous and amazing it is here, and how lucky I am to live here. It's crazy to think that there are people who dream of coming here some day, and I'm living it every day of my life, taking it for granted. Anyhoo, it really got me thinking about my favourite places in San Diego, so I thought that I would share some of them with you.



1. Coronado. 

Out of all the places in San Diego, Coronado is definitely one of my favourites, hands down. The beaches are wonderful, the food is fantastic, and there's gorgeous art galleries and amazing places to shop. Every 4th of July, my family goes to Coronado and we just spend the day there, and it's absolutely wonderful. One restaurant that we go to often in Coronado is Peohe's, a high-class restaurant right on the beach. They have some of the best onion rings I've ever had.




2. Balboa Park.
Of course, Balboa Park is a pretty gorgeous place, especially at night. I think it's so especially fantastic because of the myriad of attractions, such as the variety of museums and theaters. You simply cannot go to Balboa Park and be bored. Even if you're not doing anything especially interesting, it's still far too beautiful to not enjoy. I spent most of my childhood in Balboa Park, because I went to school there, so we would walk to the museums and stuff for field trips and when I was younger I took so much advantage of the beauty and elegance of the place.


3. SeaWorld.

Gosh, I'm just realizing how cliche these all are. They're such obvious tourist attractions. Clearly for good reasons, though. ANYWAYS, SeaWorld is an absolute MUST for tourists, or anyone for that matter. The rides, although there are only a few, are super fun, and the amount of interaction with the sea life, I think, is pretty cool. They're starting to open up more interactive things, like you can swim with the beluga whales and stuff like that now, which I think is super rad. Another super cool thing are the shows, which are clever and cute. Maybe I just like sea life in general, and that's why I find SeaWorld so great, but either way, it's wonderful.

I don't know, I was just thinking about how much I love San Diego. I also love San Francisco, it's so gorgeous. I think that's one main reason I really life San Diego, I like the look of cities at night and stuff, and I like the idea of never being bored because there's so much to do and so much to see. I also like such simple pleasures, like just laying somewhere beautiful and wasting your time taking pictures of sightseeing. I'M SO CLICHE, I'M SORRY. Anyways, yup, San Diego. My lovely city. <3

To my Peter Pan:

If there was a Neverland we would leave in a heartbeat and we could escape reality and grow old with each other without actually growing older. We could spend the rest of our lives together which I suppose would be eternity and we could be happy. We could love each other to no end and be completely young and foolish and care-free and breathe it all in and just live for once, together. We could live life one day at a time and do whatever the fuck we want because there would be noone to stop us or tell us otherwise. There would never be a single moment when there wasn't a genuinely beautiful smile plastered onto our young faces and we could fall asleep in each others arms and never be apart. 

But there isn't a Neverland. You can't fly, there's no magic, and every day we're growing older and eventually one day we won't be here anymore. You have to live by society's fucked up rules and regulations, and you have to watch what you say and do because you never know what could happen. It's hard to smile and everything is constantly letting you down. Here, you have responsibilities and you have to meet societies standards. This is reality, and everyone wonders why we're constantly trying so hard to escape it. 

Our Judgmental Society Today.

I would just like to quickly bring up the subject of judgment. Sadly, in todays society, people are more often than not judged by appearence. People are more likely to be hired if they project a certain image that the company is going for, or even if someone is attractive, they are more likely to be hired than an unattractive person. I simply cannot stand this.
Okay, let's try a little excersize real fast. Imagine this: You own a business where your workers are constantly around customers and have to be very polite and have fantastic people skills. One man comes in for an interview and is wearing casual clothes, maybe jeans and a t-shirt. (This is a pretty casual company.) He has short, neat, brown hair. He has no piercings or tattoos, he is just average looking with a kind smile and warm eyes. Now, you know nothing about this man, aside from his appearence. What is your first impression of him? Would you hire him? Do you have doubts or worries?
Next, imagine a man that comes in dressed the same, but with a shaved head, multiple facial piercings, stretched ears, and tattoos. He also has warm eyes and a kind smile, and seems eager to work. Now, what do you think of this man? Doubts? Problems? Worries? What do you think his personality is like?
Sadly, most people would not even consider hiring the second man, although this look has become slightly more acceptable than it was years ago. I'm not sure if there's really a point to this post, but I do know that judging people is something that drives me insane. Just because somebody looks a certain way, does not mean that they're a bad person. Some of, if not all of, the sweetest people I know have piercings, tattoos, dyed hair, stretched ears, etc.
        I guess my point is just don't judge a book by its cover, please. Take the time to get to know someone before you judge them. You kow their face, not their story.

Legalizing Drugs (an essay written for school)

I'm going to start off by saying that I do not think ANYTHING productive comes from drugs, I do not do drugs, and I do not think that drugs are a good option, ever. I have had experiences with family members and friends with drugs, and I have lots of reasons to say that drugs should never be legalized, but that is not my opinion for some reason. I am not even really FOR the legalization of drugs in any way, I'm more so on the side where I just don't quite care, because I don't do drugs, and I don't really have a PROBLEM with people who do drugs, so none of this would effect me. I don't care because I'm smart enough to know that if you don't want to do drugs, you don't have to do them, and if you don't want to be around people who do drugs, you don't have to. THIS LIFE IS YOURS. Anyways, the following is an essay we had to write for school, for or against the legalization of drugs, after reading two articles, "Drugs," by Gore Vidal, and "Don't Legalize Drugs," by Morton M. Kondracke. 

Gore Vidal says, in his article, “Drugs,” that he think that drugs should be legalized and labeled properly, stating all the effects. Personally, I definitely agree with this idea, partially because I believe strongly in everyone’s ability to be able to do what they wish and face the consequences on their own. I think that what Vidal proposes is not so much a realistic idea, (which of course the whole topic of drug legalization is not so much realistic anyways) but I do feel that this would be the best way to go about the legalization of drugs, if ever decided.

Imagine the worst that could happen if drugs were legalized. If you think about it, we went through the same thing with alcohol. For a while, it was illegal and the number of users decreased, but when it was legalized again, everyone was drinking, and of course things got a little out of hand. Now think about the drinking problem now. It certainly has leveled out, hasn’t it? I think that the same thing would happen with drugs.

                Right after legalization, things will get crazy, there’s no doubt about that. But that’s just what will make everyone else take it easy. As stated earlier, I think that the scenario would go somewhat like this: within the early stages of drug legalization the number of addicts and regular users would of course increase largely. A good amount of people would die from overdoses, and things would definitely get hard to handle. After experimenting and realizing which drugs do what, the proper dosages, how much you are effected, and what you are able to do and not do, I think people would tone it down a bit. I think one of the main reasons that drugs are such a popular thing right now is because they are illegal and America is so hooked on the idea of sin, as stated by Vidal, and people are also just born with a natural craving for things not within their reach.

 I also would like to point out that the amount of daily drug users and addicts is highly underestimated, as I do not believe there is ever any correct way to gain proper statistics for this subject. If there are so many users of illegal drugs, what makes anyone think that legalizing them will make all that much of a difference? If people want to do them, they are going to do them: legal or not.

I cannot say that the legalization of drugs would be beneficial to our society whatsoever, but I do feel that there are a lot of issues because of the legalization of drugs. There are some drugs that can really mess you up. It’s like you took ecstasy and never came back. It is absolutely crazy to see how much certain drugs can mess a person up, having experience with a family member of mine.

But, either way, I think the least we could do is take a chance and try it; because the truth is nobody really knows for sure what would happen is drugs were legalized. Of course we all have our guesses, our estimations, our imagination, but when you really think about it, there would be absolutely no way to ever tell what would happen unless we were to try it out.

America, or really I would go as far as the whole world, should be about change. We should be about trying out new things and trying constantly to improve our world, and I’m not saying that the legalization of drugs would improve anything, but like I said, who knows. My main point is that change is not only necessary but good, and trying new things is always something wonderful, no matter what the outcome is. We will either learn that prohibition is just a set-in-stone thing, or that drugs could be legal without constant abuse. The best part is that this whole subject is just so out of reach, really, because everyone is far too scared to even get near the idea of legalizing drugs. Perhaps one day we shall see what the outcomes would truly be in a world where drugs are completely legal.

Let's have a talk about "purpose," shall we?

I guess I'll start off by saying all of the usual stuff: I haven't posted in a while, I've been busy, haven't felt like it, forgot I had a blog, etc. etc. Next, I suppose I'll give you a little taste of my life lately: I started high school, which isn't nearly as bad as everyone made it seem. But of course, it is during your teenage years and everything within these few years does tend to just suck a lot of the time. Anyways, I'm going to a middle college (college prep high school) and my grades aren't as great as they should be. If you were to ask me why, I probably wouldn't know what to tell you other than I haven't really been trying due to my lack of motivation caused by depression and other such teenage issues. My grades are definitely one thing that have caused a great deal of stress in my life lately, along with people issues. I think it's safe to say that I'm just not all that fond of society in general, alright? Okay. Now that we got all that good stuff out of the way, I suppose I could get to the point of this post, yes?
Alright, so I started going to youth group recently, and for some reason that has made me become even less religious somehow, but that isn't really my point. A few weeks ago, the youth leader had a talk with us about "purpose." He started off by asking us what our purpose was. He had us sit in silence for a moment as we thought about it, and I found myself feeling kind of lost. I figured most of the kids in there were thinking that their purpose was to serve God or be a good kid, as cheesey as that sounds. Of course I'm not really the religious type, so that most definitely isn't my purpose. Even after he had begun talking again, I was still trying to discover my purpose. Finally, it hit me. My purpose isn't being a "good kid" or getting good grades, pleasing God or anything like that. My purpose is so much more important, in my opinion. 
My purpose is to be the best person I can be. But not in such a general sense, more so in the sense of being a friend to everyone. You know, taking the time out of my day to ask people how their day went and really want to know how they're doing. Taking the time to stop and ask someone what's wrong and listen to their problems. My purpose is to let people know that I love them and I'm there for them, to make someone smile or make their day. For some reason this is not only one thing I feel really passionate about, but something that just makes me happy. So often I give my all to people who give nothing in return, and sure, it's tiring. But it's so incredibly important to just be there for people when they need you. Why? Because you would want someone there for you, wouldn't you?
So, take the time every day to smile at someone. Take the time to stop and ask someone how their day is going. Let people know you love them, because you ever know what could hapen next and you never know what they're going through and how much it could mean to them. Also, think about what YOUR purpose is. Think about that one thing that you are the most passionate about, and revolve your life around it. Press into the things and people you love and let yourself just bask in everything you desire. Always smile, never lose faith, and love deeply. ♥