When it started, time seemed to stop and I could feel every square inch of my body. I counted down the layers from hair to skin, muscle to bone, marrow. I was completely aware of every cell on my body. And it was stifling there, buried underneath the covers, yet I couldn't seem to pull myself out of it all. At times I was barely breathing and I almost enjoyed it- suffocation. I hated the light, still do. My brain was numb to all things. I was paralyzed within myself and terrified of moving. Did you hear me when I said that I wanted to die? I meant it. I still do.

Someday we'll all be dead. You'll be dead. I'll be dead. Your family, your dog, cat. My family, my bird. When I asked you if you would rather die before everyone else or after, I had hoped that you would ask me the same question in return. I would have told you that I would die first. I would die before you and everyone else if I had my say because that's the selfish thing to do. I am, you know, selfish. I admit it. That's one of the only things I can be good at, admitting my flaws.

It's late and I have so much work to do that I'm just not going to do any of it. Because that's another thing I'm good at, giving up. Cheers. (drugs, please)

Paul awoke one afternoon at the foot of an old tree. He had sat down in the shade for only a moments rest but the breeze was so sweet, and the air so fresh that when he heard the trickle of water from the nearby brook, his lids lowered and he dozed. When his eyes opened and he rediscovered the beautiful day, he looked around with a new found sense of contentment that he had never known before. It was as if he understood the intricacies of the world, if only on a basic level. It was then that the tiniest of bugs crawled up on to Paul's naked toe.

"Hullo, there," he whispered to the ant. His eye followed where he imagined the ant's path would have been, down his foot and onto a blade of grass. Then he thought of how a single blade of grass was part of an entire network of blades all weaving their roots into the ground. The ground was what connected everything to everything. That was what we all had in common.

Paul decided to follow the ground and see where it would take him. He journeyed over sand and stream, hillside and valley. There were stones and gravel and fields of wild flowers. Paul walked along, with sharp eyes, thinking to himself about how wonderful it was that everything was so connected. "Even under the water," he thought, "the ground holds it all together."

Paul found a path that led through a forest and smiled at how the trees sprung from the ground just as the bushes, the flowers, and the grass did. "How wonderful of the ground, to hold everything together like it does," he thought. But it was there, at that moment, that Paul stopped short of his step and his smile faded. He wondered, why was it that he was not so well rooted into the ground? Why was he not a part of this grand scheme?

Paul ran back to his house and dug a small hole with his shovel. He buried one foot into the dirt. How wonderful it felt; how cool and secure his foot was under the ground. He decided that just a foot wouldn't be enough. Paul wanted to be completely rooted in the ground just like the trees and bushes. He pulled up his foot and spent the rest of the day digging. Paul dug a hole big enough to fit his whole self in. He jumped happily down in and wriggled his naked toes with the dirt. In the moonlight he pulled handfuls of dirt back to fill in the extra space around him.

Paul spent the last of his days buried to the waist in his yard. When he passed on his body sunk farther in and disappeared into the Earth. Every summer that followed a red rose bush would bloom on that spot of earth, it's roots deeply embedded into the ground. (For Matt)

Take the quiz: "Which Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle are You?"

Leonardo
You're mature and get the job done. You are a natural born leader, and normally want to be the better of the group. You take your job seriously. You must! It may NOT be a game. When you select a sport, or something you want to do, you train continueously, constantly trying to perfect it. You're always prepared for a challenge, and are normally found one step ahead of your enemies. Loving family more than life itself, you are a good friend, and can be depended on at all times.

12 hours. 12 measly little credit hours and I am free and "ready" to be out in the real working world. That's it. That's all I need. 12 more and I'm done.

My head is pounding and I should be sleeping. I want to take drugs and disappear from everything for a long while but something is keeping me here, stagnant. I can't seem to pick myself up. I need another adventure. I need to get out of this town again, for a little while at least, and wake up that part of me that dies every day I feel stuck in this place. In 4 short/long weeks this semester will be over. Maybe I can find a way to go then. I'm tired of writing. Tired of school. Tired of trying to present myself a million different ways to a million different people. I am a girl of many faces. Can you see through to the truth in me? I doubt it.

I've been avoiding things too much lately. Since this realization I've been trying to get back on track, making all sorts of fun appointments with people and pondering my "work" but things feel differently. These past few days/weeks (when the hell am I?) have been distorted almost, as if I have been living things at a distance. My dreams are filled with intense and amusing chase scenes and most mornings I wake up confused and completely disoriented. I haven't been taking any drugs either- maybe that's why. Maybe I'm experiencing some kind of withdrawal. Anyhow, I lied when I said that I wasn't worried about it. Every day I worry about it and sitting here now I've been glancing at my bed and avoiding the subject, choosing to fill my night with pointless internet quizzes that tell me what kind of sexual goddess I am, or what "woman type" I can fit into. Pathetic, I know but I find them funny. Did you know that my celebrity ideal crush is either Russell Crow or Sting? I had no clue. I wonder if they meant Sting (the Police) or the solo version. I have to admit that I've never much appreciated either.

I remember when I used to look forward to snow. Those were the days before shovel blisters and skidding tires. There is still a small part of me that sees the magical quality of snow. I used to love to try to see individual snow flakes. I loved how each one was different. "Eating snow" had more than one meaning then- still does I suppose. Snow was an amazing thing. You could run around in it all day and if you got thirsty you could grab a few bites of the clean stuff and be set for another round of snowball fights or finish building that kick ass fort. We made the coolest forts. I live right by this dead end and the snow plows would shove mountians of it against this fence. We'd spend hours, all of us kids in the neighborhood, digging out tunnels and clearning holes and ledges to stand on or hide in. Then when it was all finished we'd have a major snow war. Good times.

It was supposedly going to snow a bit tonight but looking out my window now into the darkness I can't see any signs of that. I'll more than likely go out and explore this further before I surrender to sleep tonight. Hmm. Why not now? Maybe I'll bring out drugs for extra exploring fun. Wandering around my neighborhood, alone, in the cold dark, under the influence, is quite exciting. Maybe someday you'll join me on one of my adventures.

.Her Life in a Box.

For the first years of her life she lived in a box. At first, the box fit her perfectly and she was happy dreaming in the dark. As she grew the box grew tighter, smaller, and one day she decided to cut a small hole in one of the sides. A beam of light flooded onto her face for the first time, blinding her. It felt like nothing she had ever dreamed of, so warm, and she was glad for it. As her eyes adjusted, she found that she could see the world that lay outside her box. How lovely the colors were. Though she did not know colors at first, in time she learned the names.

As the days past the one small hole on that side of her box wasn’t enough. She was curious as to what was on the other side. So, again, she cut another hole and marveled at what she could see. The warmth of light came onto her from both sides. She smiled quietly at the sight of an oak tree and grew happy watching birds nestle and squirrels climb among its branches. Of course she didn’t know their names at first, but in time she learned them.

At night when the world was dark she would close her eyes and wonder. What lay above her? She knew nothing of the word sky. So on a quiet and sleepless night she cut another hole in the top of her box. Oh, how amazing were the stars! In all her years of dark dreaming, she had never seen anything to match them in their beauty or wonder. When she saw a group of stars that seemed as if they belonged together she would, in her mind, connect them with lines. She made up stories about them. Those stars became friends to her. She was grateful of them coming out for her each night. Whenever she had bad dreams, she would look to them, shining in the sky, and they would comfort her.

As time went by and she grew older, her box became more full of holes. But she continued to be anxious to see more. She decided that holes would never be enough. She needed more, to see more, even though there was a part of her that was scared.

One day, spying out one of the holes, she saw a boy. He was smiling and he had with him a large red ball. She watched him play, throwing the red ball high into the air and then catching it. She longed to do what he did, to take hold of that ball and toss it in the air. She wanted to know what it felt like and how it smelled. She wanted it all. She looked up through the holes she had carved out of the top of her box and saw the blue sky and the white clouds.

She pressed her hands, flat on the surface of her box. It was smooth and cold, only her fingers escaped out through the holes. With everything she had in side her, she pushed upward on the top of her box. It lifted open and the light poured down on her, coating her body. It was so warm and lovely. Using the side of the box as a crutch she tried to stand. She had never used her legs before and she wobbled. She wanted to run to the little boy but she found, once setting her first foot onto the ground that the quickest she could move was a hobbling walk.

The grass felt magical, cool stiff strands. Everything smelled clean and wonderful. She could feel wind and it tickled her, blowing through her hair. Before she could realize what sound she was making, she laughed and the boy heard her. He smiled and lifted his hand to wave hello. She stopped rigid and still. The boy set the large red ball down on the grass and pushed it toward her. It bounced a little off her toe. It was amazing to her how something could feel heavy and light at the same time. It was so smooth, and where the sunlight hit it, it glowed white. She tossed it once in the air and watched it. She caught it and smiled at the boy.

She went on to discover many wonderful things. Ice cream. Swimming in the ocean. Music. Rain. She saw buildings and cars, she even rode in one. She met people and changed her clothes and hair. She fell in love. It had been years since she had even thought of her life in the box. But a day came when something inside her changed and nothing looked or felt as good as it first had. She looked around at what her life had become. She had responsibilities and things. She had money and friends. Still, something didn’t seem right. It was then that she thought about where it all began and remembered the box.

She packed a bag of clothes and things and took a taxi back to where she had first seen the little boy. She walked through a field and frowned at how her shoes were getting dirty so she took them off. Running now, through the grass in her bare feet, she came back to her box and saw it had not aged well. It was crumbled and full of holes. She tried to pick it back up, set the sides straight but it kept slumping back down. No matter what she did to it, the box just wasn’t the same anymore. So, she sat down in it, hugged the top, and cried. Then she realized that even if she could reshape the box it would never be big enough to hold her as she was.

You can’t ever go back.