Blinded

Dear Me,

I let you go; I dropped the reigns. Despite your Aries tendencies to control and plan and be aware of every moment yet to come, I made you leave that all behind for the sake of blindness. I made you blind to the fantasies of the future, to what you thought you wanted and to what you thought you should do. I made you let go.

You no longer have the liberty to anticipate every move, avoiding obstacles or forcing actions. You now have the liberty to experience things as they come to you, completely fresh and new. You have the freedom to feel and react to the world around you on a momentary basis. You now have the opportunity to overcome obstacles and create even more opportunities for yourself.

Take life for what it is, not for what it's not, nor what you want it to be.

If it weren't for life happening and persuading one thing to lead to another, the end result (whether you believe in fate or not) would never be reached. Attempting to force life into a little labeled box of yours ain't gonna happen, and certainly not in the way you want it to. If it weren't for everything new and scary, nothing could become familiar and comforting.

The law of attraction rules all: if you know what you want, it will come in time, there is no need to force it.

Think back to the time you watched the episode of "The Office" where Jim & Pam get married at Niagara Falls despite what everyone else demanded of them and without meticulous and stressful planning. Live your life without regard to the pressures of others, tie that blindfold on and take the roller coaster thrill ride of your life.

It is, after all, your life.

Love,
Me

Proposition Rose

If a soul is like a rose, all aspects must be parallel, and all parallel aspects must be altered in the same manners, it is hereby proposed and hereafter demonstrated that a soul is like a rose.

Let the growth of the rose to its full height represent the growth of a child into adulthood. The stems and leaves are still green and not riddled with thorns and likewise the soul of a child is not tainted (except by external means). Let thorns be added wherever an injury has been incurred or a storm endured. For thorns on the rose represent lessons learned for the soul. Therefore, the growth of the rose to its full height is equal to the growth of the child into adulthood.

Let the bloom of the rose equal a bloom of the soul such that each soul bloom is a personal relationship, experience, aspect of the soul or other life-enriching factor. The more blooms on the rose and the soul, the more beautiful and exquisite the plant and soul will be.

Let the endpoint of the life line of the rose equal a bloom that results in seed. Let the endpoint of the life line of the soul be parallel to the endpoint of the life of the rose such that the endpoint of the life line of the soul is to bloom and result in human seed. Let the gardener cut both the life line of the rose and the life line of the soul such that the blooms are cut off before reaching the endpoint. The endpoint of the parallel life lines have been cut, forcing the life lines to continue infinitely until reaching another endpoint. It can be explained as follows: the blooms are cut because the first bloom is not perfect enough to be sufficient for the endpoint and it is thus required that the life lines continue striving to bloom with more flowers, to the utmost perfection of color, size, volume and number. If the endpoints of the parallel lines are not cut, the result is a definite endpoint (the first bloom) and the life line has been accomplished and is no longer needed, turning brown and dead which prevents further growth. Therefore, the gardener must cut the parallel life lines before the lines reach the endpoint.

Let the gardener continually cut the life lines before they reach the endpoints. If the life lines are continually cut before reaching the endpoint there is no definite endpoint until the life lines have reached perfection with the blooms and the gardener is satisfied. The gardener does not perceive the endpoints that have been cut because once they have been cut they are no longer endpoints, therefore allowing infinite space on the life lines for perfection. Therefore if the gardener continually cuts the life lines before they reach the endpoints, the gardener will never settle for imperfect blooms, will constantly strive for the perfect blooms and the parallel life lines will repeatedly grow and bloom infinitely.

Let the essence of the soul equal the roots of the rose. If the rose is not fed with the proper nutrients and thus cannot support the perfect blooms, then if the soul is not fed with the proper nutrients, the soul cannot support the perfect blooms. If the rose is planted in sand and fed only water, the plant will get sickly and dry, whereas if the rose is planted in good soil, receives sufficient sunlight and water, and fed appropriate nutrients the plant will be full of foliage and support massive blooms. Therefore if the soul is planted in an insufficient environment, it will also be sickly and dry, whereas if the soul is planted in a wholesome environment and consistently nurtured, it will also be full of life.

Therefore, a soul is like a rose since all aspects are parallel and all parallel aspects must be altered in the same manners.

Q.E.D.

Dear John,

Do not flatter yourself in thinking this letter is for you, since John is a rather generic name used to describe the indistinguishable male, hence, John Doe.

Since loving you, I have not loved anyone, including and especially myself.

If actions speak louder than words, mine screamed out for help. I used to write every night since I was young but I didn’t write while I was with you. I used to run and hang out with my friends almost every day, but I cannot remember but a few nights when I did that when we were together. I used to listen to music and sing in the car, unconcerned of whether if I was rocking out to ghetto hip hop or bumping with pop rock, but you changed the station every time it didn’t fit your mood which was usually always. I used to think I was cute, but now I can’t eat without thinking about how I’m going to look in my skinny jeans. I used to be able to remember things so well I could tell you about my 14^th birthday party play by play but now I can’t remember what the fuck I’ve been doing with my life recently.

Since leaving you, I have not loved anyone more than myself.

You stole everything I was to keep me to yourself while I lost myself in you. Now I have to start from scratch recapturing who I am.

At some point or another I may have told you a secret in the silent confidence that you would listen and learn. All you ever proved was that you could take advantage of a situation. Now you will just have to prove yourself twice over for me to trust you again. I probably won’t like I did, and you can thank yourself.

Believe me, if you think you have scars, wait until you see mine. It’s not easy being me, or you, or anyone for that matter, so get over yourself, please.

If there’s anything I want you to remember from this letter, it’s this: don’t ever come between a girl and her daddy or big brother or little sister. It would be a sick and twisted world the moment a boy could pluck a girl from the people she loves the most without consequences or repercussions.

So until I find a Jack or Jimmy that separates himself from all you John Does of the world I will live my life peacefully, contentedly, independently and without regard to what you think. Because frankly, my dear John, I don’t give a damn.

Sincerely,

Jane.

16.

Slam. Click. *Laugh*

She smiles as she looks over. Life is great. Her closest friends, “We’re all going to go watch a movie and stay up all night. Boy, being 16 is the life…” It seems like forever since she was only 12, anxious to get out of middle school and on to her real life, real freedom. And all the friends and boys she can handle. She smiles her slightly crooked smile, her hand is touching his. He’s right there, right next to her. So cute, and such a perfect smile. “Isn’t it sweet, all my friends love him too, I can be with them all whenever I like. Good thing too, Dad doesn’t like it when we’re alone, so all I gotta do is tell him I’m with the girls...” The girls, met a couple in high school and the other two from the neighborhood. Growing up in a small town doesn’t hurt either. Sometimes it’s the best thing, knowing people wherever you go, never being too far from home, but other times it’s just a pain in the ass since everyone knows everything. No secrets around here. But since the subdivision opened and a few schools allowed out of district students, her friends have moved further away. They actually need cars now to get around. Or so they tell Mom and Dad. But who wouldn’t, especially at 16?

“Hey, so do you guys want to sneak into the Catholic school parking lot to watch the fireworks next weekend?” The voice is that of a small brunette, it’s her car, she’s driving, and generally likes to take ownership of the conversation, she is after all, the oldest. The bleach blonde girl with black eyeliner in the front seat turns around, “Oh my god you guys, remember that time we brought a few fireworks ourselves and almost had to run from the cops? And Jay got so scared he took off and ripped his pants open on the fence??” “All I know is my mother was not happy, she made him get those for the family barbeque and they didn’t even last a freakin’ day,” the dark haired girl chimed in.

*Laugh*

“Turn that up! Wasn’t this like the coolest song when we were like 13? I haven’t heard this in forever!”

**”Staring at the blank page before you / Open up the dirty window / Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find”**

The voices collide, combine, mingle and drift out the cracks in the windows as the warm summer breeze blows through. So many summer nights behind them, so many ahead. The scent of the monsoon rain filters through the air conditioning on low. Can’t forget a desert rain. The stars are clear, the lights are few, the road is dark. The moon hangs in the distance, being cradled by the mountain peaks, barely blanketed by remaining clouds, ready to fall asleep. The crickets are wide awake but all they hear is the whoosh of the car as it rushes past. Curfew is approaching.

!Lights!

“Watch out! He’s in your lane!” “I know! I’m moving over!” No! Don’t!”

CRASH.

The metal screeches as it scrapes the pavement. Glass explodes. The soft seats do nothing but muffle the sound of them smashing into each other. There is no more movement. Their breaths escape them. Nothing left to do. Nothing left to see. Nothing left to be.

The rest is still unwritten.