Like a prayer from a person dying to be shown a reason for faith. The dream of a desperate person wanting to believe that their existence isn’t futile
We know that you hide behind the drama you so willingly create out of a desperate need to avoid who you are. A mystery to only yourself. The rest of us see you clearly for what and who you are.

The fascinating surprise is how what we see is good. Truly good. We want to hate you for being yourself in the face of all that could hurt you. We want to hate you because you obliviously show us our own faults and weaknesses. We want to hate you for being that face of grace in this world that will encapsulate us in ignorance if we need it.

Yet we cannot. You are a captivating mystery that is the air we need to breathe. What you have inside threatens everyone who is aware enough to see that it exists. What you have on the outside makes others gravitate towards what you represent, because they never knew to want such beauty, honesty and truth before now.

Only now can she say that her avoidance of herself was due to her fear of being defective and rejected. Only now that she has faced her fear of being told she wasn’t good enough and has truly realized that not only does she measure up, can she see that she has surpassed all levels of maximum greatness she was to have achieved in her entire life. She is released from her own fears and free to move on to live in the passion of greatness of spirit that she knows truly is her and is no longer afraid to explore.

Only now can she look at herself with something other than revulsion. She can feel for the first time the dawning or growth of a sprout from seed into its first bloom.

Her path is that of flight – she is on a different plain of existence that shows us there is more than our limited view of the world and our own place in it. It is she that shows you there is reason for hope, she is living proof there is more…

She has faced for the first time her belief in true love and giving herself over to it in its entirety. She has removed all of the safety features and for the first time, she is completely helpless in her desire to be loved and to truly love in return.
Love of self offers protection from the inhumanity of humanity. She knows now that Faith isn’t blind, it has its eyes wide open filled with curiousity, humor, trust and excitement.

She knows that history and the generations to come will look back at us, at her and see what we are worth. What we stood for and what we did to give back and generate greatness in ourselves to share with the world.

She no longer fights the grace that is who she is, she embraces it and begins her journey.

The feculant bed oozed bad smell as well a rather disturbing black goo, Angelita looked down at it with distain, but said not aword of the many fould exclaimations running through her mind, she, as herpetulant mother continuosly reminded her, was a guest in this house,and must not speak ill of ito r its matron, the bulberous Dame Matild. Angelita pulled the threadbare blanket from the matressand layed it down upon the hard,stone floor, it was at least dry,andhadless things living in it that the matress appeared to, it would have to do. she lay down upon and wrapped it around her as best she could with out ripping anymore tares. Then he, williamstepped into the room, he the bane of her exsistance and her raison d'etre, and he thereason she wasstill in that filthy thing Dame Matild called a house, insteadof in Alaska with her father. William was Dame Matild's nephew, bboutbore noresemblancewhat so ever,hewasfair and tonnedwithhoney-coloured hair anddeep darkblueeyes, the kind you could get lost in, but didn't make a big deal about them selves.

So she stood there. Tears rolled down her eyes. She had dealt with this same pain a thousand times. Why oh why? What words could she say to fill her inner soul. Every man she ever love devoured her heart. So what is left? Her mind tells her to pick up the phone and tell him. But her heart's shattered pieces stabs at her ribs. Her knees felt weak and she fell to the floor. She frantically begins to scream, "Why me?"

No one answers or even hears her cry. Her thoughts are racing. Why does the one person who loves you the most hurt the most. His words replay in her mind. "Listen to me, every other girl I have been with has always stopped listening to me." Her body began to shake violently from the memories of his words. Then why did he have to talk to other girls. It makes sense now. She had to tell him. She had seen everything. Heard it all. He wrote other girls. He claimed to be such a man but let his mind take over his heart. She saw the messages every last single one of them. But she stayed by his side. And the phone calls. He had conversations with other girls and stayed on the phone for hours.

This time she had to be the women she always wanted to be. She was young and going away to college. She had plans and thought that she had a man. But in the end she never was in love. See when you fall in love then you will learn. That love may not conquer all but it will never hurt you and make you wanna give up. So she picks up the phone and begins to dial.

Some would say that a person’s path becomes apparent when they see themselves go through severe changes. They say that a person would find their proper way when the hurricane-like devastation is over and the sun has risen.

Some would agree.

Others—well others don’t, and with good reason.
I used to believe that when your told what your going to be it will actually happen, who knew that today, on my last month as an eighteen year-old my ideas of what I once had wanted to be are packaged into the side of my head that tells me it is all just a dream. The other logical side is fumbled and confused.
What do I want? This question should be posted with my nine digit number all along the Toronto streets.
I was certain of what I had wanted when I was younger, an artist perhaps, but my heart told me that that was simply a dream, what use have I for a dream? A dream that is so distant that it might as well be sitting on the moon admiring the view of planet earth. Why my mind is so tormented I have no idea, but the truth is that it is, and they always did say that the first step was admitting the problem.
The hard thing is: what is the base of my tormented mind? What caused me to have so many questions, worries, fears?

Maybe my answer is in my father’s death, the day that part of my childhood disappeared and was replaced by my too-soon adulthood. Whether it is in my hidden thoughts that are so encrypted in my mind that I can’t even reach them or in my thoughts that are always open to me, I think about that day at least once a day.

Hospitals had never scared me, their smells had never bugged me, and the idea of doctors talking cryptically to patients’ families always seemed like a T.V. show that had been filmed in the outskirts of the U.S. I had never been afraid of hospitals and how the only news you could leave with was either a simple yes or no; good or bad news. The waiting rooms varied, they could be large or small, and the sad idea was that whether a patient had many or no visitors, the waiting rooms were made and no matter how many rooms there were they all had echoing news of passed loved ones. That Thursday afternoon my father became one of the countless patients that left the hospital with neither a yes or no answer. He was one of the patients who’s family became one of the many that had to hear the news of a lost life; a lost piece of our family puzzle, and the more we lose the less connected the pieces will be. My family sat on every empty chairs—to make it clear, it does not matter how many a patient has visiting them, it is the fact that fate has been so unkind to them that they would need a fated waiting room all together—and we held our breathes, hid our tears, and silently prayed.

The nurse came in, the look of sadness painted on her face, and my mother was the first one up. Whispering began and I could see my mother’s face change and she did not need to speak to make us understand, they tried their best, she had said.

That was it; that was another life that hung in the balance while yet another family sat in a waiting room. That was almost seven years ago, and I remember it vividly.

Some would say that a child’s memory is vague; I would say they’re wrong. That day everything changed for me. All my dreams, my hopes, my fears. They all changed and because of that event.
So now I sit writing this in an attempt to slowly let myself reflect on a small percent of my hidden emotions. I guess a part of me is scared of losing another piece of my family’s puzzle and another part is scared of losing to the world that took my father.

I guess this, in some way, is preventing me from being all I can be.
Maybe it’s time for me to learn to take the plunge and follow what I believe, whether my dream is something simple or drastic.

Fear is something you shall have when fear itself scares you.

I don't really know where I should start. No one paid any attention to that poor little girl, she saw nothing but the ignorant side of life. Being so young and in such a tough position. Parent's gone and abandand in a big city with no one to run and cry to.

The fear that ran through her heart and entire body when they drove into the city. It was all new, she grew up in a town where there was only aborigional and caucasion person's. She thought back to all the time's that she had been told about all the shooting's and raping's in bigger city's.
All the movie's that she had watched that showed the same stuff. How could this have happened? She was 16, pregnant, all alone, and scared beyond beliefe that this was the end of her world as she knew it.

She sat in the car and thought back to all of the time that she had taken advantage of the love and support was what she knew she needed. But she decided to ignore it and pretend that she could do it all by her self. How hard could being a parent possibly be. Right? I'm sure it'll be just like getting a new puppy, and her parent's had just got a new dog, it might have been two when they got it but that's still a puppy, right?

When they pulled up to the building the tear's started to fall. The fear and anxiety had began to take it's tole. Not only did she miss her boy friend and her parent's and sister, she was living in a group home for pregnant teenage girl's. There was bound to be some sort of turmoil at all time's. And her parent's had just told her before she was shipped to the city that they were moving, also. To a city six hour's in the opposite direction of where she would be spending the last six month's of her pregnancy.

At the group home they gave her a little room, that was purple. With a huge closet, a night stand and a bed. There was a desk that was attached to the wall, with a light for homework and such. They offered a school down the road, at the local community centre, which was also affiliated with the group home. The school was based almost completely on corrispondance book's, and art's and creativity credit's. But you could bring your baby and do your work, because they had a day care on the first floor. They held alot of different course's at the community centre for everyone, if you did happen to live at "The House" (the group home) you had to attend all the program's that were required to reside at the house. And if you had and drug problem's or anxiety issue's they would have a couse for that. Or cooking course's, but with your baby.

The food was amazing, they would have a cook come in everyday and make lunch and supper, except on the weekend's, then it was fend for yourself. Life became better when she made friend's with a girl that was in a similar position as her. They would play card's at the kitchen table's until 3 or 4 in the morning's on weekend's, just because they could. There friendship was beautiful, it wasn't based on anything unpure, they didn't judge each other. Because based on there predicament's they were in no place to be judging anyone else.
To be continued....