Contagious [Part 10]

I continued to walk until I reached the lake I had swam in earlier. As I neared the edge of the water, I looked around for a container to keep some in. It was a warm day and the terrain was exhausting to travel alone on.

Several yards from the bank was a flask. I twisted the cap off and looked inside of it with one eye open and one eye closed. It was empty. I carried it over to the lake and filled it with water. After taking a quick drink from the flask, I realized that someone had had tequila in it previously, and I was getting the watered down left over remnants of it. Anything to keep me going, right?

I finally came upon the road with the "dead end" sign laying to the side. Walking past it, I grasped for the chain underneath my shirt and held it tightly. As I got closer and closer to the abandoned carnival, I started hearing something. I walked faster so I could hear it clearer. Someone was screaming.

I began to run. Everything became a blur as my feet desperately clung to the dirt and pebbles while I was treading along. The screams became more distinct as I got closer and closer.

"Helpp!" someone cried.

It was a girl's voice.

As I whizzed past the merry go round and the old roller coaster, I finally saw them.

I grabbed him and threw him as hard as my body possibly allowed. I fell down with him and scrambled to get up but I settled for grabbing his leg and he settled for kicking me in the side of the head. My left eye went dark.

I punched wildly at the air and caught him with three of them. I was trying to punch clear through the other side of him. Through my right eye, I could see that he was bleeding just as much as I was. I wasn't sure where she was.

We both stood up slowly, not wanting to get hurt any more than we already were.

"Hey man, I don't want to have to hurt you", he said.

"Kris? Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here?" I was so confused.

Kris was my best friend. I had known him since Kindergarten. This was the first time we had ever fought.

I forgot to wait for a reply, because I already knew part of the answer.

"I'm going to fucking kill you", I reasoned.

I charged at him and put my shoulder right into his abdomen and we both flew forward. His body broke my fall and I think my fall broke his ribs.

He laid there in pain and I stood up and looked for Lauren.

She was sitting in one of the bumper cars, crying.

I walked over to where she was and just stood there.

"He wrote the letter", she said in between breaths.

"I never should have went to sleep", I said.

Contagious [Part 9]

I woke up and my eyes pulsated with pain so I just kept them closed thinking the pain would disappear. It didn't.

I opened them and looked around, squinting to avoid the brightness of the sun. I was alone. There was no Lauren to be seen. And not only that, but the fire had been put out.

I sat up, puzzled.

"Did a bear eat her?" I said to myself.

I really hoped not. If a bear ate her, I'd feel guilty. I scrambled to stand up quickly and fell right back down, onto my face. I laid there miserably and all of a sudden I felt helpless.

I felt like I should have jumped from the cliff when I had the chance. I felt so stupid for believing her.

There was a note on the ground.

I picked it up with my bruised hands and read it quietly to myself.

Dear Ivan,

I didn't get eaten by a bear. Please don't worry about me. I'll see you again someday, but right now I need some time to myself. I hope you understand.

Love,
Lauren.

Bullshit. Love is bullshit. She's not a Hallmark card. She's selfish.

I crumbled up the note and threw it as hard as I could.

I was alone again. I needed to remind myself that I'm the only person I can really trust. I pulled the gold cross that my father had given me out of my shirt.

"I need some help from you, dad." I said as I looked to the sky.

I wondered if he heard me. I wondered if he could help me.

I wondered if it was normal to feel like this. Like you could just die and no one would care, even yourself. Like I don't even exist.

I started walking again, in the general direction of the cliff. I wasn't sure how far from it we had wandered, but I didn't care. I was alone now and that was enough for me.

As I was walking, I remembered something my mom had told me when I was little.

"Life is hard, Ivan. All you can do is keep trying. You have to try. You owe it to yourself."

I guess this was my dad's way of helping me. Funny, since they got divorced a month after she told me that.

I changed direction. I headed for the abandoned carnival.

Contagious [Part 8]

The night air was cold and made me desperate for a nice warm bed. But there was no shelter out here in God knows where. Just Lauren and I and a few scurrying squirrels, holding onto their acorns for dear life. I thought about how we were just like the squirrels, except how they had it better figured out than us. All I wanted in life was to want something bad enough and then get it, and hold onto it and keep it safe. I was still searching, but the squirrel had it simple. Maybe I was just looking at things the wrong way.

We had been up half of the night. I wasn't sure what time it was at this point but Lauren was asleep and I was watching her. The fire was reflecting off of her face and I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Somehow she sensed that I was awake and I was looking at her and she opened her eyes without warning. I jumped and buried my face within my hands. She sat up and looked at me.

"Go to sleep, Ivan. You need to rest", she said.

My heart was still beating rapidly.

"Sorry. I was just making sure a bear didn't eat you while you were sleeping", I lied.

She knew exactly what I was actually doing, "You were staring at me because you like me."

I contemplated whether I should make a joke and deny it or if I should just act like I'm sleeping or if I should just admit it.

"You're beautiful, you know?" I said.

"Why else would you be staring at me while I'm sleeping?"

"Bears", I said.

"Oh, right. Bears." she grinned.

"Ten beautiful girls are killed each year by tragic bear accidents. I feel like it's my responsibility for you to not be one of those ten."

"You're such a loser", she said.

"I know I am. And you like it."

"No I don't", she replied.

I looked at her in awe and didn't know what to say. She was smiling for some reason, as if she was happy about making me feel unliked.

"I love it." she said.

My expression of awe didn't change, but the context of my wide open mouth differed entirely. I had never in my life heard something so cliche and beautiful that wasn't out of a Hallmark card. I was starting to think that's where she got these sayings from.

"Was that out of a Hallmark card?" I questioned.

"What?"

"Nothing", I muttered.

I laid my head down on the itchy grass and closed my eyes. I pretended like I was asleep and listened to Lauren's breathing. I was so tired.

After 30 minutes she finally laid down beside me. I opened my eyes when things got quiet and found her with her eyes open, staring straight into mine.

"Watching for bears?" I asked her.

"No, I just like you", she said.

Contagious [Part 7]

Things were getting better. Complicated, but better.

Everything was changing. I was seeing things in a different light now. The grass that once seemed so plain and common was now vivid. I appreciated things, like air, like clouds, like myself.

The rain stopped shortly after Lauren kissed me. It was as if the rain was my pessimism and her kiss halted it. Is that too cliche to say? Oh well. Our relationship was cliche, and I enjoyed it. We had only met each other hours before, but we felt like we had known each other forever. Cliche again. Damn it.

We started a fire just as the night crept in and took away the safeness we had felt earlier. She had a backpack filled with things that she packed before she ran away from home. In it was some matches, clothes, cereal, water, makeup, money, and various other women stuff.

The fire was refreshing. It kept us warm and that was all we needed that night as we kept each other company and told each other about our average and complicated lives.

"My parents might as well not even be there", Lauren said. "They don't even pay attention to me. All they're worried about is themselves and their problems. But what they don't understand is that their problems fall on top of my problems as well. And I couldn't take it anymore. I needed out."

I nodded.

"I couldn't tell them how I felt. I didn't want them to worry about me because they were already worried enough. So here I am. I wonder if they're worried about me right now."

I interrupted her, "They are, Lauren. I'm sure of it. There's probably a search team of hundreds of people looking for you. And they're all worried about the sweet teenage girl that is missing, and they want to find you so you can be back home with your family. Is that what you want?"

"Right now I'd much rather be with you", she said.

I smiled, but behind that smile was a lot of fear and anxiety. For one, I still had no idea where I was. When I first found myself at the abandoned carnival, I was confused and clueless as to how I got there. And now this girl is here, and I have no idea how she got here. Or who she is. But most of all, I don't think it's safe to be out here by ourselves. The last thing I want is for this girl to get hurt. She's so sincere, and I can't help but be extremely protective of that.

"I feel the same way", I told her.

She reached over and touched my hand. I extended mine and she slid her fingers in between my fingers and we sat there for awhile and listened to the sound of the crackling fire. I wondered if things would always be this simple.

Contagious [Part 6]

"Sometimes you think you're going one direction, and you're fine with it. Then later on you realize you were unknowingly looking into a mirror, you know? Life is a guessing game. And it's easy to guess wrong." I continued to try to console her. She seemed to be calmed by what I was saying.

It started to rain. First as small sprinkles.

"But I just got tired of everything. Everything I did was a giant struggle. And all I wanted was for it to be easier." She paused to wipe a tear away. "But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find that gray area. That space where it's comfortable."

I knew exactly what she was talking about. Since I had felt like this so many times before, I didn't really have a way of telling her it would get better. I knew for a fact that it could very well get much worse instead. Did I mention life is a guessing game? Well, sometimes you guess right, and you get punished for it instead of being rewarded.

The rain grew steadier. I looked around for any sort of shelter, but there was none.

So we sat on a fallen tree and stared at the ground as the rain started to pour. It was one of those moments when you blur everything else out, and just focus completely on the sound of the drenching rain. And ironically enough, everything was alright as long as it was pouring. We found solace sitting together with water dripping off of our faces.

She turned to look at me and our eyes met as I turned as well. I looked back at the ground.

She kissed my cheek and put her arms around me and then rested her head on my shoulder.

I could feel my face reddening as I smiled slightly and wished I hadn't looked back down at the ground.

I tried to analyze the moment, but too many thoughts were crawling through my mind. Somehow I figured it was going to be a lot harder to guess from here on out.

Contagious [Part 5]

Leaves rustled behind me, causing me to jump in a moment of sheer terror and disbelief. I desperately grasped for a stick, a rock, or anything to defend myself from whatever wild animal that's crossed paths with me, of all things, in this world of coincidence and possibility. This world where the negatives seem to outweigh the positives, until that one moment in your life when everything is perfect, and you try so hard not to screw it up, but you always do. I believe Newton explained it the best. What goes up must come down.

I turned around and dropped the measly twig that was supposed to protect me. This was no wild animal. This was a girl.

At first we only stared in disbelief. I imagine that the same twirling thoughts that were running circles around my mind were making her dizzy also. I was about to faint.

"What... who are you?" the girl said. I was still lightheaded.

"My name is Ivan. Who are you?" I muttered. She wasn't impressed so far. And she looked like she was in much better condition than I was.

"I'm Lauren. What exactly are you doing here anyway? It's not safe to hang out at the edge of a cliff. You could slip and fall." she preached at me.

"Well... erm." I struggled. I was trying to think of a defensively sarcastic way to hide the fact that I wanted to fall. I couldn't think fast enough.

"Actually I was planning on jumping. What's it to you?"

No reply.

The tone of her voice made it seem like she didn't care. But her facial expression told a different story. I could see right through her. She was one of those girls that was constantly misunderstood. She wanted to be bigger than the walls that were suffocating her every time she pushed back. And I wasn't going to hide the fact that I already had her figured out.

I followed the urge to let her know I wasn't stupid, "So you ran away from home, huh?"

She looked at the ground. Her face turned bright red and tears formed in the creases of her eyes. I was right, but I felt bad now.

I walked over to her and put my right hand on her shoulder. With my left hand, I lifted her chin and wiped away the single tear that was running down her face.

"Everything's going to be alright."

Contagious [Part 4]

The drop was roughly one hundred feet. I looked straight down and my stomach seemed to spiral endlessly as I calculated how far my head would go into the Earth if I did a nose-dive. If my calculations were correct, It'd have been about a half of a foot, depending on how much air resistance slowed me down and how hard and moist the ground was. My legs would be sticking straight up in the air, pointing to the sky. The wild animals would eat the flesh and meat off of my decaying body which would only leave a pile of bones for the archaeologists of the future to dig up and carbon date. They'd be able to tell what time period I lived in, but nothing more than that.

They wouldn't know what my struggles were, what I liked and didn't like, or even how I died, how I killed myself, and why. Hell, even I didn't know why. Why not? There was no one here to tell me "You've got everything to live for. Don't jump. Your family needs you". It was just me and mother nature out here in a battle of will that I was losing terribly.

And maybe that's why I didn't jump. There was no rebellion. There was no point to prove. I wasn't dying to show someone how wrong they were about me. There would be no sympathy at a funeral packed with people that thought I was weird while I was alive but for some reason realized how great of a person I was after I died. I had no reason to jump but because I was dying, and I was alone.

And that's when she came, and destroyed every part of the mentality I was previously stuck on. She shattered me.

She saved me.

Contagious [Part 3]

I sat in the grass, furious, and in denial. The heat and the hunger were getting to me. So far I had gone almost a week without any food, unless you count the ant that crawled in my mouth while I was sleeping the other night. I started to feel dizzy. Nauseous. Empty. I heard dogs barking. And then all of a sudden darkness became reality, and I wasn't aware any longer.

I started running, faster and faster, until my legs were moving so fast that it became a complex virus that wouldn't be stopped until it was killed over and over again. I was desperate for freedom. Eventually my madness deadened, at least the part of it that was caused by the heat exhaustion, but only after blood dripped out of my nose and down my upper lip. I fell over, hands grasping my stomach, and cried out in pain. Tears came to my eyes as I bit my lip and wiped my nose and mouth with the palm of my sweaty hand. It was crimson; it was the truth.

I lied down on my back, looking up at the sun and resisting the urge to squint. I wanted to go blind. I wanted another reason to want to die.

The heat was becoming a permanent part of me.

I was past the point where you stop caring. I was now at the moment in life when you get yourself ready to accept the other side of things. The life after life after whatever came or didn't come before it. And I was preparing myself earnestly. I was gathering my thoughts, and clutching onto them so tightly so that maybe they would not leave me as I entered Heaven or Hell or joined the dirt and became fertilizer for the next generation's Weeping Willows.

I was ready to gurgle my last words to the only thing that was a constant in my life up until now, and that was fear.

Contagious [Part 2.5]

After following the dusty road, step after lengthened step, I finally came to a ravine. There was a lake that must've been a half of a mile wide. It was U-shaped and lined with trees and reminded me of the summertime back at my home.

I started taking off my clothes so I could jump in and cool down. I unbuttoned my shirt first. The water was so serene, and enticing. The breeze whistled slightly, making small ripples in the glassy facade of the water. I undid the button to my jeans and slid them off.

I waded through the water until it was up to my waist and then dove forward into the crisp aquatic enlightenment. Swimming somewhere in the middle of the lake, I realized that I had forgotten to take off my gold chain that my father had given me when I was a little boy. It had a cross on the end of it with the name "Ivan" encrusted on it vertically.

I held it there in my hand while I thought about all of the things the chain has helped me get through. The time when I slipped on ice and fell on my face and bit clear through my lip. The time I drove home and saw my dog lying in the middle of the road with not an ounce of life left in its body. And then all the times I felt like ending it all, but couldn't because I was afraid. So I just cried.

A tear ran down my face, so I went under the water to get rid of it. There was no crying allowed right now. I needed to find food, and fast.

Contagious [Part 2]

I woke up with my head throbbing; pulsating. It felt as though a horse had realized some mud was stuck on the bottom of his hoof, and he tried to stomp it off. Only I was the mud.

The dry rotted seat inside the bumper car stuck to my sweaty skin as the humid weather seemed to melt me right onto it while I was asleep. I peeled myself off slowly and sat up, pondering what I should do next.

After a few minutes of blankness, I decided that I needed to find water. It had been almost two days since I even felt liquid on my tongue. I was malnutritioned, and my mouth contained less moisture than the Sahara Desert.

I started walking. I passed the broken down ferris wheel, the deserted cotton candy stands, and even the faltering remains of a roller coaster. The wooden structure of the "Thunderous Rage" was only a skeleton of what I imagined it was when it was in service. This was most likely the result of a few million hungry termites.

I left the premises of the abandoned carnival and began to follow an old dirt road to wherever it would lead me. I figured there wasn't any cars driving on the road anymore, but it was a good start towards reaching any sort of civilization. Laying down beside the road was a "Dead End" sign. Ironic, if you ask me.

When I was just five years old, my dad and I went on a road trip. It was a Saturday, and he was a little bit under the influence. A little bit meaning three times over the legal limit. I thought it was funny how he was driving; we were both laughing and having a good time. Until I learned just what a "Dead End" sign meant.

We went over an embankment; the car flipped over and over again until I didn't know which way was up and which way was down. By the time it was all over, I was in the backseat and my dad was somewhere outside the tangled mess of steel and iron.

Needless to say, after the crash, I was still alive. He, however, wasn't.

Contagious [Part 1]

As the rain tumbled down, dancing beyond the silhouettes of the blackened trees, I tried my hardest to not join the puddled mud on the ground. Giving up seemed so easy; so comfortable. Yet, continuing on was the only chance I had at survival. I couldn't give up now.

I bent over, arms resting anxiously on my wavering knees, and puked the remaining contents of my stomach into the foggy landscape below me. I paused for a second, trying to remember whether I had eaten anything black or if I was just puking up pure bile at this point.

There was something about this moment that seemed so familiar, like it had already happened once before. Things like deja vu made me nervously suspicious of superstition. Maybe that's why I always wore two different colored socks. Maybe I was just disorganized.

As I traveled farther, I came across what seemed to be an abandoned Carnival. The dirt covered Merry-Go-Round reminded me of when I was little, and when I wanted to be big like my dad. And when he was my hero and I didn’t know where babies came from.

But that was alright because I knew that we would get ice cream later, and although I knew my dad wouldn’t let me get sprinkles because I always made a mess, I knew that it wasn’t a big deal, but I cried anyway. And then I got sprinkles because he felt bad.

I sat in one of the dusty, rotted seats of a Bumper Car, and closed my eyes. Everything went back to the way it used to be. Innocent, colorful, unaware. Like it was early in the morning on a Saturday, watching cartoons and eating all of the marshmallows right out of the Lucky Charms box.

For a brief second, I could almost hear the television blasting again. The smell of waking up to breakfast. The coldness of my feet as I realized that my socks had somehow disappeared sometime in the duration of my sleep. And then the emptiness returned.

I fell asleep, pretending. Pretending that everything was going to be alright.

Should I Be Less Pessimistic or Should You Be More Realistic?

For example, if I were to say, "The United States economy is only going to get worse until finally the country is in complete shambles" and someone were to reply, "Stop being so pessimistic!", where is the line drawn between pessimistic and realistic?


The truth is that pessimism is an emotion. It's only a choice in that when something bad happens, you can be pessimistic about it, or you can completely ignore reality and be optimistic.


Being optimistic when you know you or everyone else is in a bad place feels dishonest to me. Pessimism allows us to address and deal with issues in life.


And like I said before, pessimism is an emotion. When bad things happen to people, they get sad. They get depressed. And when you're standing at a funeral and half of the people around you are bawling their eyes out, you don't say "Stop being so sad!" Do you?


I do realize that some people can be overly-pessimistic. Some people overreact and blow things out of proportion.


But you have to realize, being realistic is efficient and would help so many people in this world. I know this is a lot more complex than I make it sound, but think of all of the over-weight people in the United States. If some of them came to grips with reality and said "Okay, I need to eat less. I don't really need to eat all of this food." Or some of the people that max out 5 credit cards. If they said "Maybe I don't need to buy these things." Their problems would be solved.


I think pessimism is so discouraged that some people have lost their sense of right and wrong.


And I say it doesn't matter how you look at a glass. If your glass is half full, great, I'm glad, but stop and think next time before you tell someone not to be so pessimistic. You never know how low their glass really is.

Being Distasteful Never Tasted So Good

It started with a one page letter,
so sweet and innocent.
Full of clichés and unbroken promises,
and still I was sure you meant it.
It happens like this every time,
that you make me believe in love.
You make the world seem so unimportant
Besides you, I have nothing else to dream of.

And yet, it fades, every time,
I guess for you, faithfulness gets kind of old.
I don't mean to complain, but I really did love you,
and now I'm dreaming of the lies that you told.
You tell your friends that you never even liked me,
kind of funny how that always works out.
You laugh like it's a joke, but these words are real,
and I hope you realize I'm not someone to doubt.

And here I am, still hoping you'll change,
but hope is blind in so many ways.
This never meant anything to you before,
but I'm lost in your distasteful maze.
When you decide to start caring, just let me know,
I'd love to laugh in your face.
Because I'll never believe in love again,
unless I find someone that won't make me chase.

Have you found God yet?

I grew up in a sort of Christian family. We went to church every week, at least when I was younger (around 5 years old). I remember the repetitiveness of the few hours a week that I spent sitting there doodling on a piece of paper.

Most of the people that went to the church I went to as a young'n were older ladies. They knew they weren't far from finding out what happens after you die. It must be a troubling thing to know that soon you will figure out the truth to the world's greatest mystery, only to understand that you can't bring that knowledge back to 'life'.

I think that fear is what brings most people to Christianity. "Have you found God yet?" is a question that I'm sure many of you have heard before. I have a few sarcastic answers to that one. "Have you found the end of a rainbow yet?" "Have you found the Easter bunny or Santa Claus yet?"

Of course not. It is in my beliefs that Christianity only serves a couple purposes.

1. To keep the people of Earth morally correct.

2. To give Hope to people.

The first one doesn't even work. Look at all of the people that are Christians that are morally corrupt. Just because you "know God", doesn't mean you're not going to sexually molest young children. Just because you "know God", doesn't mean you wouldn't kill a prostitute after you rape her.

And who would forgive people that do that kind of stuff if they only ask for forgiveness? That's not kindness, that's stupidity.

Besides, it's human nature to be immoral. We are all born with an urgency to do wrong, and it's within ourselves that we must choose to do right. Just because you're not religious, doesn't mean you are a BAD person, and just because you don't believe in "God", doesn't mean you won't do GOOD things.

So what do people look for when they pray?

They are asking for help. They want hope that things will get better. I don't believe in Christianity, but I believe in hope. I don't think that we need to ask an imaginary friend for help to have hope, though. It's like doing a "rain dance" to urge the Gods to make it rain.

I don't judge people by their religious beliefs. In fact, I don't really care what a person believes in, because no one knows for certain how the world was made. No one knows for certain if God really exists.

So until we find out, after we're dead and we're fertilizer for the grass above us, I'll keep praying to Hope, not God, and my Bible will continue to be a coaster for my drinks.

For Anyone That's Ever Been Hated On

This post will not contain any well thought out sarcastic remarks that will try to make you laugh. This is for anyone that's ever been hated on for being themselves, or in my case, for no reason at all. This is as serious as I get.

Today a random person that I've never met or talked to before decided to let me know that I am too negative, and that I should crack a smile once in awhile. (Maybe he should have read my post called "Should I Be Less Pessimistic or Should You Be More Realistic?") I then asked them "Do I know you?". The reply was "No, and I don't want to know you nor do I care to know you." Rude, right? I probably should've ended the conversation right there, but no I decide to pursue it.

I told the person that "I'm not negative all the time, I'm just realistic. The world isn't made of marshmallows and candy canes." and said that "I do smile, actually. How would you know if I don't smile? Do you stalk me?"

Then all Hell broke loose. He proceeded to call me names, tell me how I am a nobody, I'm a low life, I'm cocky, ignorant, a "dumb broad", etc. etc.

As if I don't already know that I'm a nobody? I'm 17 years old. The only people that know my name are the 16,000 people on Twitter and the people that read this blog. I'm not a popular kid in real life. I've known that my whole life and I'm fine with it. From what I've seen, being popular isn't a good thing.

And this is what really gets to me. After all of his middle school drama is over and I've done my best to tell him to "Fuck off" without actually saying it, he makes it out like I "failed at hating on him" and that he "danced circles around me and embarrassed me" and even said that I was the one that attacked him!

Nothing pisses me off more than people like this that think they know someone when they don't, and then even have the balls to make you out to look like the bad guy.

Look, I might not be the most optimistic person in the world, but I'm real. I say what I feel, and that's all. If you don't like that, you have that right, but you DON'T have the right to bring someone else down, for any reason.

I realize that I'm getting sort of popular on Twitter, and this blog is getting more visitors and comments than it ever has before. And I love you guys for that. And I know that as my Twitter account and this blog grows, I'm going to be getting more haters. It's just hard for me to accept that, because I don't know how to deal with people that are so mean for no apparent reason.

I know I have to keep my head up, and be a bigger person than them. But I just want you guys to know that life is rough as it is. Don't make someone's day any worse by unnecessarily calling them names or bringing them down. Try to make positive influences.

The person that attacked me earlier today first called me "Negative". But look, you don't try to make someone less negative by calling them names. That will only make them feel worse about themself.

That's all for now,

What the Heck is an ACT Anyway?

1. ACT stands for _______________.

a. Accurately Corrupted Teenagers
b. Asshole Cheating Turtles
c. Angry Cat Tigers
d. American College Testing


If you chose D, you are correct. Although, while I took the ACT test, I saw some of those angry cat tigers.

Today I embarked on a journey that most high school students in the United States go through at one point. I took a test that is a reflection of all of the boring days when I sat in class drawing deranged kittens and writing stupid stories that I shared with my easily-humored classmates.

My experiences in nerdy things such as Math Field Day, which is basically a math competition where you take a test and the top 3 scorers get a trophy, followed by places 4-7 receiving a less macho "ribbon", guided me along through the anxious 4 hours where my brain was in turbo mode. (By the way, I've placed 2nd and 4th in the two times I've competed in Math Field Day. Don't judge me.)

It seemed like everything came together for me while I was taking the test. Although my stomach hurt from the nervousness of knowing I was about to take a test that would determine exactly how much knowledge I have randomly collected throughout my 17 years of existence (I have room for improvement), and I was only running on 3 hours of sleep (So much for a good night's rest), and I did NOT eat any breakfast before taking it (So much for the most important meal of the day), I felt like I f***ing aced it, for the most part. Excuse my language.

Speaking of language, English was the first section of the test. A good way to start, seeing as writing is basically all I do that is semi-productive, and I'm pretty good at it. Did I mention I love writing? 70 questions about grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, and whatnot. And I don't think I missed any of them. So far, so good.

Next was Math. Did I mention I'm good at math? Although I'm sure I missed a few questions in this section, I'm pretty confident that I scored extremely high. And the best part was that I was over halfway done at this point.

The third section was Reading, where you had to read a passage and answer questions about it. Did I mention I love reading? Aced this part of the test also. Perfect score, here I come.

The final part of my journey was Science. Oh crap. Did I mention my last 3 science teachers have been nut jobs? One of them only talked about her stupid fish and the other one acts like she's a kindergarten teacher. Her assignments include COLORING. I love coloring, but I didn't see any coloring questions on the ACT! Luckily for me though, the science section was all about reading graphs for the most part. I think I did the worst in this part of the test, but I still did really well overall.

The ACT is graded out of a composite score of 36. Around 20/36 is average or something. I'm expecting low 30's for myself. A 36 would be nice, a 35 would be grand, but I'll settle for a 31 or a 32.

Oh, and did I mention I hate the ACT?

Re:Creations

Re:Creations making way...

I Just F***ed Indifference

Half of the time an idea makes its way to me, I’m a half mile down the road before I can get anyone else up to the starting line. I don’t know whether it’s over-ambition itself that tires me, or the fact that I create such a vivid picture in my headspace that explaining it turns into more of a burden than a relief. I spend more time in conversation with myself than with anyone else. I was raised by 2 of the most independent, good-willed, driven people that ever existed on this planet. I can’t take blame for this tireless drive that bee-lines me straight to exhaustion, but I can partially blame myself for the early headfull of greys. With all these thoughts and the will to carry them out comes a tidal wave of worry. The worrisome attitude and all it includes is my main enemy in these 21 year old foot steps. There’s enough attention to detail in my life to shade out all possible relief in any pay-offs. I’ve started to celebrate though.
Through simple changes and eye openers like world wide travel, I’m able to connect 2 & 2 when it comes to the world of confusion that lies before figuring out personalities. I’ve begun to split my differences with the rest of the world by only noticing similarites between myself and anything else. I’m on the top end of gratitude for those who agree, and now for those who agree to disagree. We all walk the same plains. It’s time to just take into account in general. Before leaping to the closest conclusions and holding on for dear life, there are other shoes to try on.
World peace?
-M

What Will Your Verse Be?

In a hundred years, everyone currently on this planet will be dead. We'll all be gone, replaced by smarter, more technologically inclined children and grandchildren. This is a very frightening thing to think about. The future of this planet is in our hands, and we can choose to positively or negatively influence it. Like a ripple effect, our actions will culminate and decide the course of future history.

A quote by Chuck Palahniuk got me thinking about this.

"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will."

As a teenager, it's all we hear our parents talking about. "You have to stay in school and do well and go to college so you'll get a good job." Make good grades. Do better. Be better. It's a constant pressure that is put on us as teenagers. But it's so much more than that.

It's my belief that we aren't put on this planet to go to school, go to college, get a decent job, retire, and then die. To succeed and grow we must create and give someone in the future the chance to learn from our own struggles.

A quote from the movie "Dead Poet's Society" reflects on this--well, more so on the subject of creating poetry.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

This quote inspires me every time I read it. I try to ask myself this everyday --"What is my verse?" What am I contributing to this world, not just as everyone else is doing, but as an individual, as a creative minded thinker. The thought that WE, meaning all of us, get to contribute our own verse to the gigantic poem that is life is such a gift. And I try to take advantage of that gift every day.

A lot of people ask me where I get my inspiration from. The truth is I don't really know how to answer that. I get my inspiration from life, mainly, from doing a lot of thinking and observing of the everyday tragedies and disappointments of life. From sitting alone in my room and wondering about things. I write what I feel. And that's something that's hard to do sometimes.

Anyways, I think I just remembered why I don't do classic "blog posts" very often. Because I tend to change the subject a lot. While I'm rambling, I might as well just say that "Contagious" Part 16 will be posted tomorrow. Which is Sunday in case you're living in a different part of the world.

Oh, and the next time you wake up in the morning, ask yourself "What will your verse be?" Take a look from another person's point of view. You might be surprised what you find out about yourself that you didn't already know.

Encouragement

When I think about encouragement, oddly enough, I think about my dog, Winston. He's a short chubby mixed breed with long black curly hair and much like me, his hair seems to get in the way of his vision sometimes. He follows me around everywhere I go. Everywhere. Not once does he leave my side. He protects me from human-like dangers, including relatives and friends, by nipping at them if they even dare come near me. And although he's vicious to strangers, he's my best animal friend, and his heart is just as big as his ever-growing belly.

Unfortunately, his slight weight disadvantage limits him from jumping as high as he should be able to. Our couch is a few feet off of the ground; easily reachable by our two other dogs, but Winston seems to have trouble. In fact, it's not often that he is able to leap onto the couch by himself.

While he's yelping and whining and scratching to find his way onto the couch and I look at him like I expect him to do it by himself, he gives me the opportunity to witness the miracle that is "encouragement". Patting the couch and saying "Come on Winston, you can do it. Jump" is enough motivation for him to use his abilities to the fullest and make his way onto the couch without me having to lift him up. That's all it takes.

I wonder about the people, dogs, Sasquatches, water buffalos, etc., that don't have these encouraging figures in their life, and I feel bad for them. It's hard to reach your potential without a little push or a little guidance. Just think of how much better the world would be if instead of condescendingly criticizing others, we encourage them to grow and think and do their best. After all, if there's no one there to say "You can do it", we can't do it. We'd all just be yelping and scratching to climb onto the couch. And even if we did make it onto the couch by some leap of faith, without encouragement, we would be so tired by then that all we could do is take a nap.

Pillars of Introversion

They say great minds think alike. If indeed I may call my fellow writers and myself great minds without seeming pretentious, then this platitudinal ponder holds true. As evidenced by the new writers' “About Me” pages, we are more alike than we are different. As I read the short biographies, I noticed multiple parallels that seem to be definitive of the quintessential ‘writer’ personality. Amongst them, the most prevalent and defining was introversion.

Introverts thrive on solidarity. Being alone allows us time and temperance to look within. Heavy socializing is detrimental to our mental and physical energy and only "alone time" can restore it. Despite what you may believe, introverts are not simply ‘shy’. Although true shyness is a relatively common characteristic of introverts, it is not defining. Essentially, an introvert is someone who internalizes phenomena. We dwell in the realm of thought. Of idea. Of emotion. What is perceived as “shyness” in most cases is the introvert’s aversion to casual conversation, chit-chat. Trivial things are not our forte, outwardly this may project as a facade of vanity or indifference. If we must speak, we want it to be well thought out and meaningful, preferably pertaining to a concept or idea.

There are certain qualities exuded by introspective individuals that are helpful in suppressing our insecurities. I call these four characteristics the “Pillars of Introversion”.

1) Emerging Leaders: Introverts are surprisingly efficient and natural leaders. Have you worked on a group project only to find yourself wishing you could do it all on your own? By taking a strong leadership role, the introvert assures that the project is completed to his or her standard. However, the impediment comes when they must actually adapt to the role; if someone else can take the spotlight away from the introvert, they will gladly offer it up. Great minds make great leaders, but when that mind is too involved in itself it forms an endless circle, perpetually remaining within, unheard. With the right coaxing and encouragement, a leader can emerge from their put introspective thoughts; it only takes one person to give the introvert the boost they need to flourish.

2) Open Minds, Hearts, Eyes, and Ears: Introverts know the mind. By being intimately familiar with one’s own mind they are granted greater insight into another’s. Because of this, introverts are exceptional listeners. They are empathic towards others, able to relate and offer sound input or even just a shoulder to cry on if the situation calls for it. Introverts are not quick to judge, they listen and reflect openly and honestly.

3) A Different Perspective: Introverts see the world differently than extroverts. Our eyes can focus on a metaphysical level. Our concern is not with the outward aesthetics, but the inner workings. Nothing is skin-deep to an introvert; there is more meaning, more life beneath the surface. Imagination and creativity abound in introverts; most of the world’s greatest minds: Leonardo da Vinci, Charles Darwin, Stephen Hawking, Vincent Van Gogh, yielded ideas that would have been unfathomable if not for their introspective nature.

4) The Art of Words: As the new writers illustrate, introverts express themselves exceptionally well with the written word. Introverts need time to process and reflect on the abstract; this is why we prefer to express our inner thoughts and emotion in writing. More mundanely, most introverts probably prefer to draft a letter or email, or even a concisely worded text message than pick up the phone. Despite the distaste for impromptu speaking, introverts can actually be talented orators. As nauseating as the prospect of delivering a speech in front of a large group of people may be, public speaking is actually good for an introvert. Given time to write and practice a speech, and provided the complete attention of a group, an introvert can easily and movingly convey a message, saving themselves energy-draining socializing and small talk.

These four pillars are invaluable to an introvert. They are the things that make the introvert’s mind unique, empowers them, supports them, and lifts their minds to heights never before reached.

Wait

I'm swimming.

Only, my legs are motionless, my arms stretched out

infinitely at my sides.

The silence is so deep, so compelling.

I reach for it, without moving, I reach with my soul.

I feel myself slipping, into the silence, into time.

Limitless time.

All at once, it's moving too fast, forcing me back into noise.

Your fingers find mine and twine themselves through, effortless.

The silence fades away completely as you pull me out and into

the screaming grey.

Your eyes are locked on mine, but you don't see me. I look

desperately for myself, but the old warmth is now drenched in pity.

You sigh, your warm breath mingling with the cool night air, and

tickling my frozen cheeks.

The wind whips around us, blowing strands of damp hair across

my face. I don't brush them away.

I'm trapped in your steely, uninterrupted gaze.

Finally, you stand up, breaking the unspoken link between us. I

see you flinch, but only slightly.

I stand too, but your back is turned, your shoulders hunched.

You begin to walk, slowly, but confidently, into the swallowing

unknown that is your future.

Dawn breaks the starry sky, casting tendrils of light

through the deep darkness.

I stumble, falling after you.

Your heart is racing, but you won't turn around, you can't.

I'm on my knees now, with the pressure of the world

closing in around me, holding me firmly to

the ground. I try to lift my head to look at you one last

time, but my heart holds it in place.

"Wait," I whisper.

Peace in the Chaos

I want you to find me,

I'm hidden beneath the words I'm too afraid to say,

I need to be rescued from this hopeless abyss,

The weight of this world is crushing me,

I'm sinking

There's no stopping to breathe,

I'm going to drown in a sea of pressure,

Please pull me out,

I need a life boat, something to hold on to,

You're my rock, my stronghold,

I hope you know how much you mean to me

In this never-ending lifestyle, I need hope

The noise will never stop, we will never stop,

Forever haunted by the ghosts of our past,

We will shove the skeletons back in our closets,

We are not how we once were,

If we stop, we die

It's up to me and you now,

We need to find a way to end this

This world is so chaotic,

I can't find my peace, we need to find our peace

So run until you collapse on the ground,

Dream until you can't see the end,

There is a hope here and it's hiding beneath the suffering

I need you to come with me on this journey

This love we share is a weapon,

Please aim carefully,

Scream the thoughts inside your head,

Release the emotions under your skin

You are the light to my darkness,

The candle in the storms of my head,

Please catch me when I fall,

Don't let me drown

It's so noisy here,

The hustle and bustle is excruciating,

This city never sleeps, my insomnia is worsening,

We are a broken people now,

You are my peace in the chaos

Her name is Love

You’re spinning. You're spinning so fast, almost as if you're floating. Your hair follows the wind, hitting your face hard. The faster you twirl, the more it stings. It begins to become more painful along the way.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see his familiar figure approaching you.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
You don't say anything as you stop spinning. Instead, you carefully watch his dark eyes pass through you. His mind wanders to the past, replaying every precious moment he spent with you. The Care and Comfort you gave him shines the brightest. The sun gives its laughter to him, and deepens the smile you once shared with him.
Slowly, you notice Fear darkening the edges of his memory. The light dims; the sun is covered by big, gray thundering clouds of Anger as the rain rampages its way through his body. Agony blackens his mind.
The darkness shrouds your eyes, and you no longer can see. Still, he desperately reaches out for you, searching. But you can't find him. You can no longer guide him.
“I’m lost,” he cries. His tight grasp catches your wrists. The pain pulsates through you.
“It hurts,” you whisper.
You picture his dark eyes looking at you. “I know,” he says just as quietly. You hear the softness in his voice. The image of him expands. You sketch out his familiar face and his familiar eyes. Your body remembers the lines of his body, and the warmth you felt when he held you close.
Blinking, your eyes readjust to the darkness. His eyes are drawn again. They're begging you not to leave yet. He’s telling you to stay a little longer.
Temptation is there, patient and waiting. You feel yourself lower your defenses slightly, ready to give in. But then you remember all the suffering you've caused him. You know Pain. You never wanted to give him Pain. It wasn't intentional.
Yet, you know you cannot take back the hurt you've given him. Only Time can heal, and Time could not begin his healing until you've gone away.
Your decision is made.
The pattering of the rain begins to slow. His grip on you loosens a bit. You take this opportunity to remove all chains binding the two of you. His face pales as you back away from him.
“I’ll be back,” you promise him.
He doesn’t hear you. Bitterness has already taken your place. She wraps her arms around his crumbling figure, giving you one last complacent smile before completely consuming him.
The rain has stopped, but the sky still hasn’t cleared yet.
Swallowing your sobs back, you reluctantly turn away from the empty past. With every step you take, you find it harder to hold the tears in. Sadness takes your hand and begins to twirl you again. The wind steals your tears away before Regret can make his move. You're following the wind again, floating.
And you understand your role.
You are meant to give light and Happiness to whomever you attach yourself to. In the end, however, Pain and heartbreak come along with you to ruin it all. You cannot break free from these kin.
You've learned that you cannot stay in one place for too long. You'd be shrouded and concealed in the face of Jealousy and Compromise. Your job is to move on. You must leave the mess you've left behind for another to clean up.
You sign your messes with your own familiar scribble. The world recognizes your neatly written signature. Wherever you go, wherever you end up; the people call your name. The crowd knows who you are; we know you are Love.

The Generation of Hate

Every day I see a thousand new examples of hate. And scattered around those examples are the (seemingly) less popular examples of love and understanding.

It's not even necessarily about what you look like anymore. It's not even about what you say, or how you think or act, or what you do in your free time. In this generation, you could be anybody, anywhere, doing anything, and still be the victim of random and undeserving hate.

Allow me to explain further.

If Gandhi somehow rose from the dead and made his way into this world, he would be hated on just because he was bald, or he was too skinny, or because his thoughts were different from some of the other brainless people on Earth. It wouldn't matter that he was a peacemaker that fought for India's independence. It wouldn't even matter that he inspires so many people to this day. He was one of the most influential non-violent protesters in history, and he would be hated on by today's generation.

It's sickening almost to the point where I just want to scream at everyone that speaks a negative sentence.

So I'm proposing something, for the better of this world, and for the good of this generation. From what I can tell, this generation is going to be put through a lot of difficult times. The world is at a point where we must make changes, or destroy everything.

The changes we need to make are many, and it starts with our attitudes towards other people. I seriously lose sleep at night because I think about these things. People are so quick to judge, so quick to misunderstand, and so quick to speak hateful words.

Am I the only person that remembers learning The Golden Rule in elementary school?

"Do unto others as you would want them to do to you."

Treat others as you want to be treated. We are all born with a desire to be loved. If you want to receive love, you won't do so by treating others badly.

It's really that easy. If you feel the same way that I do, share this with your friends. Maybe one day the negative people will join our side.

Moment of Silence

Thoughtful minds long for silence.


A mere moment of peace and tranquility to reflect and bask in the solitude of our inner conscience. A short respite from the constant noise and useless babble of the outside world, just to hear the ambience of life and our own beating hearts. Perhaps we imagine silence so pure that we are only aware of a serene ethereal melody, resonating just for the existence of being?


However, our quixotic notions betray us. True silence is fear. Rage. Passion. Rapture. Silence such that if it were known by humans would drive them mad million times over in the span of a second.


Silence falls…


First on the ears then the mind. By cruel irony, thought cannot be. Consciousness too is fleeting and soon is silenced. Mortal senses fail; no sound, no sight, no taste, no touch.


Movement must halt. The finite connections, the simplest charges that bind together physical existence are broken and matter dissolves from being. Corporeal form is lost. The idea of life no longer exists.


Light fades, but not even darkness can remain. Darkness requires the absence of light, but need and necessity are no more. The synchronicity of rhyme and reason falter. No action can take place, thus no consequence can be incurred. Cause and effect are null.


In a single moment we fall to oblivion and ascend to infinity, an eternal distortion of Alpha and Omega. Time unravels. Creation never was. An infinite howling void of endless and absolute nothingness. Reality ceases.


Silence is the end.

It's Over

Questioning the overly simplistic thoughts running through your head,
You reach for your gun but find that you're out of bullets.
Stare down the hopeless abyss that threatens to overcome you,
There's nothing that anybody can do anymore.


It's over
You're just going to have to turn around now
Just turn around and never look back
Forget about everyone and everything you've ever done
It's over
Pick up your things and walk out the door
Close your mouth and bottle the words inside yourself
Screaming never did you any good before, why should it now?


You single-handedly ruined the best thing that could have happened to you
By saying nothing the whispered rumors silently overtook the beating of your heart
Have the inconsistent breathing patterns of your insomnia killed you yet?
The shattered memories of your past will haunt you as you sleep
Don't close your eyes just yet, wait for the sirens in your head to still
If you wait long enough the bleeding will stop just enough for you to cry out


Stare down this bottomless pit before jumping inside

Don't scream
Don't cry
Don't make a noise
Just fall

Close your eyes and whisper the words you're too afraid to say aloud
Count the seconds that pass before you longingly reach the bottom


It's over now.

People

Some people are like land mines. No matter how hard you try to avoid them, you'll always run into one of them by accident. And when you do, a reaction happens. A reaction that you're not happy about, even though you try to look at it as a glass that's half full. Sometimes the glass is full of poison. A glass of poison that's half full is just as bad as a glass of poison that's half empty.

Some people are like wind. You can't see it, but you know it's there because your cheeks tell you that something is moving and you trust it. These people come and go from your life. They might pretend to care for a little while, but they're constantly moving, and the best thing you can do is let the breeze blow instead of fighting it off.

Some people are like volcanoes. Deep down inside, the heat is churning, waiting to be released. They hold it in and try not to let it show. But sooner or later, they erupt, and it destroys everything in it's path. There's no way of predicting what's to come. It just happens. And you can't ever take it personally.

Some people are like swimming pools, and some people are like swimmers. On a hot summer day, a pool full of cool water is just what you want. You jump in, and the water welcomes you. You splash around, you go under water, and you enjoy the aquatic experience. But after awhile, your fingers and toes start to prune. You get bored of the pool, and you get out. When winter comes, you forget all about the joy it gave you. These swimmers use you. But the important thing to realize is that other people will come along, and maybe they might stay long enough to get pneumonia.

Some people are like blankets. They keep you warm when you're cold. They are always there for you. No matter how bad of a day you've had, you always know that at night, you can crawl into bed and feel comfort for at least a few hours. Never let go of these blankets, and never take them for granted. Even if they seem worn down, or used, remember that they were always there for you when you needed them.

And some people are like robots. Another face in the crowd. A voice unheard. A shadow of a shadow of a shadow. They go unnoticed. And sometimes they're completely unaware that they are even alive.

Some people are just people.

Masquerade

You stare at the party before you. Glamorous. It’s exactly like a scene out of any fairytale. Chandeliers dangle from the high ceiling, weighed down by diamonds and crystals. Although they hang still, it still seems as if they are threatening to fall down.
The floor reflects the light from the chandeliers. The walls bounce the voices back and forth. Each heel that strikes the floor is accompanied by a clack. You hear the countless conversations swirling around you, but you don’t understand any of them. All the voices and words blend together in one giant murmur.
Long, gorgeous gowns trail the glossy floor. Every girl on the dance floor wears a mask corresponding with her dress. Every boy wears the same penguin suit costume, each with a mask concealing his identity. The room is full of mystery and unanswered questions as everyone peers curiously at one another, wondering who exactly they’re dealing with.
A penguin suit walks up to you. Although the mask covers his mouth, you see the twinkle in his eyes and hear the smile in his voice. “You seem familiar,” he says slowly.
You return the smile. “Is this how you try to pick up girls?” you remark playfully.
He doesn’t reply at first. You see his eyes studying you, sure that he’s still smiling.
Under his gaze, you try not to squirm. Instead, you lift your chin, straighten your back, and lock your own eyes to him.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks you, holding out his hand for you.
You briefly glance down at his welcoming hand before taking it. “It would be my pleasure,” you reply, excited. The moment his hand wraps around your own, your palm grows sweaty and your heart beats faster.
And so the two of you dance. It’s graceful; rhythmic. You aren’t touching him, but you still feel his warmth emanating off his body that it almost seems as if your body is pressed against his. He breathes. You match your own to his. The butterflies within your stomach rampage in circles.
You can’t keep your cool for much longer. A grin permanently paints itself on your face along with a rosy red color gently brushed onto your cheeks. Unfortunately, the mask covers your transparent feelings.
The song ends. The two of you step away from one another. His warmth you felt, however, remains lingering on you.
“I’ll be right back,” you squeal, your voice an octave higher than it was prior to the dance.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” he replies, fairly amused. He’s taken a liking to you.
You turn and hurry away, trying to regain your composure. It’s difficult, considering you can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than Mr. Penguin Suit.
Accidentally, you bump into someone while your mind is preoccupied.
“Sorry,” you say, looking up at the person you just ran into. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops as you see a replicate of yourself. Or, so it seems like a replicate.
She has the same dress as you. Maybe not exactly the same, but an extremely similar one. Her mask is very similar as well. She has the same hair color as you; the same shade of skin, the same height. You feel like you’re looking in a mirror. The two of you look chillingly alike.
The only aspect different between the two of you were the eyes. As she holds your stunned gaze, you notice her eyes are deeper and darker compared to your own glowing set of carefree eyes. Her eyes don’t show surprise. Instead, they’re knowing and understanding. Very different from yours.
"You’re--" you start, trying to place a name with her hidden face. Before you can finish, a large crash interrupts you. The moment of truth.
Heads turn toward the fallen chandelier in the middle of the dance floor. Shattered glass is scattered everywhere. The guests stare at the chandelier in horror before panicking. They begin to run for the doors.
You bring your attention back to the look-alike girl. She lifts her mask and reveals a smile.
"--Love," you finish.
"And you’re Infatuation," she responds.
Glancing across the dance floor, you see Mr. Penguin Suit staring back at you, clearly puzzled. He doesn’t know which girl he danced with earlier in the night.
"He’s not searching for you," she says before slipping the mask back on. Her voice is soft, gentle. You can’t make a noise as she walks away toward a confused Mr. Penguin Suit. He gives you one last fleeting glance before giving Love his undivided attention.
You look the other way and notice another boy in a mask and a penguin suit costume staring at you curiously. Slightly raising your mask, you grant him a smile as you drift toward him.
The other boy isn’t your problem anymore. A new set of butterflies, giggles, and heartbeats are awaiting for you. Of course, he’ll mistake you for Love like they all do, but you’re alright with that now. You’re used to the quick, thrilling moments you’ll shortly share with him. It’s who you are.