[Untitled.]

“In, out, in, out, in, out,” I repeated. “This is easy, nothing to worry about.”
I continued going up with the destination in mind. I dared not look down to the path that led me to this point. My hand clenched to the next hole, carefully making sure that I did not fall.

"I am stupid," I thought. "Why did I not bring any equipment with me on this climb? Ah, now, I remember. The local oracle had told me that I could not climb this cliff without taking risks."
I replied that "climbing is a risk in itself."

I was not allowed to climb unless I did it of my own strength and God-made tools, my hands. Therefore, 7562 feet later and I am here, tired and hungry with nothing but God’s fuel: air.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to give up and fall into the abyss that lay below me. “In, out, in, out, in, out,” I repeated once more.

This constant jabbing at the monumental rock to ascend reminded me of Cassandra. It was foolish of me to let her go. We were at the lobby. An argument arose and she stormed off. The elevator was too slow for her so she ran to the stairs. I ran after her.

“Wait, Cassandra! Please wait,” I shouted. “I didn’t mean it!”

She did not respond.

I continued to run after her. Her, an athlete, sprinted up the stairs in an alarming speed, while, I, an Olympic couch potato, gasped for air after the third flight of stairs.

Click Clack. Click Clack. Click Clack.

All I was able to hear was her high heels.

Click Clack. Click Clack. Click Clack.

It was almost as if they were mocking me, laughing at me for my incompetence.

Click Clack. In, out. Click Clack. In, out.

My ears buzzed with these sounds. Click Clack.

I continued climbing. In, out.

She continued dashing to her apartment on the 15th floor. Click Clack.

I gathered all my strength and continued on my ascent. In, out. Click Clack. In, out. Click Clack.

It continued. Upon reaching the eighth floor, the sounds of her heels stopped. I giggled at the thought of her heels having the last laugh. Laughter turned into sorrow and I began to sob.

I yelled.

“In, in, in, in,” I began.

“Just get IN. Please, I just wanted you to let me in,” I told the mountain, thinking of that night.

“In,” I whispered. I laughed. My voice sounded like the heels that night, clicking and clacking their way into my loneliness.

I finally blurted, “out.” I let go of the rock. I lost my balance. I lost myself. I fell.

I fell much like the night Cassandra left me. I was hysterical. I continued walking up the stairs, absent of the mocking sounds of her heels. I reached her apartment.

I reached for a rock once more, attempting to grab hold of the cliff during my fall.

I knocked. She did not answer.

My hand slipped.

I opened the door with my spare key. She began to scream for me to leave.

“I don’t want you anymore,” she said at the top of her lungs. “You were a waste of time!”

I fell further to the ground. My hands attempted to clutch to any holes that were visible.

I grabbed her. It is extraordinary how much a fall changes someone. The adrenaline fueled my anger for her.

I continued to fall.

I pushed her. She tried to escape my wrath but tripped. I saw my chance. I dragged her by her hair. Upon reaching the window, I picked her up and threw her. She grabbed on to my hand. I held her up, then I let go. She fell.

I did not bother grabbing on to any holes now.

She did not scream. She only stared. Her silence pierced me. As she was opening her mouth, she reached the sidewalk.

Her silence still pierces me. The silence of me falling down this cliff felt the same as that night, but I dared not yell.

I stared.

I opened my mouth:

“I love you,” I whispered. “Cass-”

January 06, 2009

Today marks the first of every Tuesday where our school will have concerts during University Hour. Along with the concert, they had other activities going along in the campus, the most noticeable one, to me, was the protest to raise awareness of what is going on in Gaza.

Anyway, the band, Breezy Love Joy, was singing one of their songs as the protest started. He sang, “I just want to be free, set me free, I want to feel free.”

As he uttered those words the 30-40 students protesting passed by, each holding a different sign, to give an awareness to the students enjoying the concert.

A student with the biggest poster stepped forward from the back of the stage, it read, "End the Siege on Gaza." He continued to walk forward.

His eyes met mine, and with his stare I was aware not only of the deaths of hundreds, for the past few days, but the death of the personal soul. He stared. The vocalist sang, “Set me free-e-e.” The back up singers followed. They all sang for freedom.

The sounds and the stare resonated into my body. The protesters continued to walk. With each step they created ripples in my head. One thought to another, it was forever continuous.

The last of the protesters passed, and the vocalist whispered, “I just want to be free.”
_______________________________
I know this isn't fiction, but I haven't had time to edit and write chapter two. It will be up soon. I'm a bit disappointed that no one commented on this blog, but I was happy to see that my deviantart account and fiction press got traffic and people commented. Anyway, I'll get to writing chapter two. For now, I will post random blogs and short stories. I will not talk about my day, but I'm thinking of getting another blogspot so I can blog about my day. Maybe, I will.
Anyway, I believe I subscribed to all of my followers. I thought I had done it before, but I guess not. I'll be reading your posts too (:

The Movement

       We have been traveling for a couple of weeks and it was nice to stop to eat cooked food. The café was nearly empty. There was only a group of students dining here, besides us and the staff. The students were laughing quite loudly at some apparent joke. I wished that our stay in the café could be as interesting as their laugh entailed. The red seats and the metallic table were as cold as the weather; all reminders of the absence of warm feeling that home brings.
       A middle-aged woman came over to our table. She was wearing skin tight spandex pants and a white button-down shirt. She wore a small pink apron over her clothing. Her curly chestnut-brown hair surrounded her oval-shaped head in a pleasing manner. No grey hairs, I guess the hair follicles were still capable of producing the coloring in her hair. Her thin lips wore a silky red lipstick that didn’t seem to match her green eye shadow.
       “So what is the sweet couple having today,” she managed to spit out while she chewed gum. “The special today is grilled cheese with chicken fritters.” She stood there with a blank expression, and a notepad and pen in hand, ready to take our order.
“Oh, we’re not together,” I replied. “We’re just really good friends.”
       Emily ordered an omelet while I choose the pancakes. The warm feeling going down my esophagus reminded me of home. I was pleased with my selection. I was so busy consuming my food that I didn’t notice the placement of the syrup which caused me to spill it all over my jeans. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I attempted to play it cool.
“Can I borrow your car keys Emily?” I asked. “I want to change jeans.”
“Why?” asked Emily, perplexed.
       I ignored her question and waited until she handed me the keys. After a couple of minutes of intense waiting, she finally gave up and handed me the keys. I was halfway out of the establishment when I heard Emily say, “I don’t get you sometimes. You’re so weird, Joseph.”
       I zipped up my jacket and prepared myself for the cold weather. No, it wasn’t cold, it was freezing, cold was a windy low 60 degree weather, this was 3 inch snow day. My jacket was too thin and I could feel the icy wind and the snow hitting my back.
       There was a cop car hiding behind a “Welcome to Happy Times Café” sign. The two officers were outside of the car, one pointing a radar gun at unsuspecting victims, the other was just leaning on the car door minding his own business.
       I walked around the café to the almost empty parking lot, where I noticed that two individuals had their car parked in the middle of the road and each had a rifle at hand. Both were wearing jeans and a t-shirt, one wore a cowboy hat. The man with the cowboy hat was very well built, so I was scared for my life. I could see their mouths moving but couldn’t hear any words until the scrawnier one yelled, “I have to tell him!”
       The voice sounded familiar, so I looked up and stared at him for a while. The two men started coming forward towards me, and I noticed it was Nicholas, my brother.
“Why hello there Joe*,” he whispered as he came face to face with me, “aren’t you going to give your older brother a hug?”
       I gave him an almost robotic hug because I wasn’t sure if the cold weather was messing with my head. After I successfully changed jeans, we started to walk towards his car whilst we caught up with one another. I told him that I was in a road trip with Emily while he confessed that his alibi for running away from home was false. He told me about his adventures with his friend Benjamin. I was so enthralled with his stories that I didn’t notice that we’ve been walking deeper and deeper into the forest, and that for the past minute I was walking forward by myself. When I turned around my brother and Benjamin were aiming their rifles at me.
       The face that once showed a blissful smile now showed one of despair. I panicked. I ran. I ran away from the bullets that started buzzing by my body, and away from the fact that my brother was behind it all.
       After minutes of my flight response and countless bullets, I hid behind a tree. I was hoping that if I was quiet enough I can leave the forest undetected. My breathing did not help. Weeks of being sedentary in a car really did wonders to the body. Both passed by the tree. I tiptoed from tree to tree until about the fifth one down when I stepped on a branch making a loud cracking sound.
       Nicholas and Benjamin ran towards me aiming their guns once more. I ran, confused on why he was shooting me and where the energy to keep running away came. I heard a bullet pass my ear, or it might have skinned my ear but I was too worried on survival to feel the pain my ear might be emitting.
       The next bullet hit my right hand. The pain was immediate and “it hurt like a mother,” as the folks back home will say. I couldn’t hear bullets anymore. I heard Benjamin yelling for me to stop. I looked at my hand and couldn’t grasp how my hand looked perfectly fine. It was just a rosy red, as if someone had smacked it a few seconds ago.
“About time you stopped,” they said in unison.
“About time I stop? Are you kidding me! What the fuck is your problem? You and your best friend,” I yelled, bitterly, “are shooting at me for no reason! What the fuck were you even shooting at me?”
“They’re not real bullets,” added Benjamin.
“We started to shoot at you because the cop was looking at us,” explained my brother, “you see, you’re in great da-”
“WHAT?” I yelled. “Why would you aim a gun at someone if an officer was looking at you? That’s insane.”
“Can you shut up and listen to your older brother for once,” he said, “I’m trying to help you. You’re in great danger. The reason I was shooting you was because I’m on their side but I’m a double agent. They suspected me from the start but I served as a connection to you. The female cop over there, behind the welcome sign is part of the game, the other is clueless. They’ve been following you for days, as have we. Anyway, my assignment was to kill you because you serve as a threat to us, well them.”
“Okay,” I said, “I know you’re fucking with me, so I’m going to head back to Emily, she must be worried sick.”
       As I turned around to head back, the female officer was walking toward us. I couldn’t see her partner. She asked what had happened among us and why she heard bullets. I lied. I told her that we were just catching up on our childhood. She took out her pistol at the sight of the rifles.
“Throw your weapons on the ground, put your hands up and turn around,” she yelled.
They followed her instructions. I turned around and lifted my arms.
BANG!
Benjamin fell to the ground, instantly: dead. I closed my eyes. One of us was next. I got to my knees and awaited Death to sweep me from my feet.
BANG!
After the shot, I heard a thud. My brother fell to the ground, he was dead too.
“You are under arrest for the deaths of your Nicholas Houle and Benjamin Gray,” she said.
“I’m what?” I exclaimed, as tears ran down my face, “you killed them! They’ll trace it to you and you’ll go to jail!”
“Are they going to believe a cop or a civilian?” she asked. “I could simply tell them there was a heated argument among you three. I was taken by surprise and you stole my weapon, killing the two that lie dead right now. It’s as simple as that. Now, how much did he reveal?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Reveal what?”
“Stop acting so innocent,” she mentioned, “I know he told you something but if you keep denying it then you wouldn’t mind going in for questioning.”
       She handcuffed me and we headed toward the café. Her partner was leaning against the café, waiting for her to come back. He looked awkward, almost as if he were posing for a photo. Instead of walking to her car, we walked into the café where Emily was idly drinking coffee.
       The café was now empty. The students who were once there had left and the staff seemed to have disappeared. I, once again, envied the students.
She sat me down in front of Emily.
“It’s about time,” said Emily. “It took you two long enough.”
“You’re on their side?” I asked as I tried to squirm my way out of the handcuffs.
It proved fruitless. The cop tightened her grip on my body, restraining me from getting any closer to my friend.
Emily motioned for them to let go of me. “Just let him go,” she said, “he won’t do a thing. Why, yes of course, I’m on their side. Why do you think I choose to take you along for the road trip, instead of my boyfriend?”
“I thought you were my friend,” I said, sulking.
“Oh, but I am. It’s just,” Emily responded, “the game comes first. Now, let’s hurry, before he gets an idea and escapes.”
       We started to walk outside to be taken to her car and then into custody. I struggled away from the officer’s grasp. She was unusually strong. I wanted to escape to the forest but her strength was too much for my weak body.
       The other cop, to my surprise, was talking to another woman. The woman had smooth, silky white skin, almost pale, with a fair complexion. Her hair was curly and blond. She was wearing a sun dress, heels and a flowery hat; she was clearly not dressed for the weather. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company.
       The female officer called him over and I saw it as my chance of escape. I kicked her shin and started running toward the forest. The lady in the sun dress screamed and the male officer came my way. He punched me in the stomach. I lost all the air in my lungs. I fell to the ground and gasped for air.
       I was picked up from the floor and attempted to escape once more. Then I felt a huge force hit the back of my head and with a thud I fell to the ground. The last thing I saw were the exposed ankles of the woman in the sun dress. There seemed to be some writing on her right ankle. I focused all my energy in trying to read what it said. “Joseph, you’ll be okay.”
Her ankle told me that I’ll be okay.
       The woman’s message was the only thing that seemed to make sense at the moment. I closed my eyes and thought of her ankle.
       I woke up, tied to a chair in an empty room, my head resting on an empty table. There was an increasingly growing pain in the back of my head. The room was more desolate than the road Emily and I had traveled a few days ago.
More importantly, I knew that woman lied. I was not okay. I will not be okay and there was no hope for me anymore.
___________________________________
Author's Comments:
*The reason behind the (*) after the name Joe, is because I wasn't sure if Joe was short for Joseph.
I was told to never criticize my work when I present it, so I will not criticize what I wrote.
This is chapter one of the novel I'm writing titled, "Pieces."
Both titles (the chapter & book) aren't working titles so they are subject to change.

The only huge problem I had while writing this is the dialogue. I don't think I've ever written dialogue so I often found myself trying to make it work. I'm still not sure if that's the proper way to write dialogue.

Sorry for the cussing, it just seemed appropriate at that part of the writing.

As for the worries about being plagiarized, I do have all my writing backed up on my laptop, different emails and different blogs to show the improvement from first draft to final draft. (So if there is ever a discussion that I stole it from someone else, I have all that proof and if my laptop gets stolen, I can still see my writing.) I did get a fictionpress, so I will be posting it there before here. I also post it on my deviantart account before. So, thanks for reading. Please tell me what you think of the story.

The Future

So I've decided to write a novel. Well, I had started one before, so I'll simply be continuing what I left undone. I'll be posting chapters up here as I go through with them. I will also post them on my new deviantart account. The account will not be posted unless asked, but it's really the same posts, sometimes different.
-Okay, I feel weird saying that because I only have one follower, which is kind of pathetic, but it beats not having any.-

I'm finished with chapter one, and chapter two is one-fourth done. I'm currently fixing grammar issues with chapter one and adding more text in it all together. It is fiction. I'll have bios of the characters after chapter two, I think. To better have an understanding of the characters besides the description in the novel.
Expect chapter one to be posted in the next two weeks.

The future for this BlogSpot:
-The Novel, most definitively. (I think the title is "Pieces," but I'm still on the starting points of the book so it's not a working title)

-Journal Entries. [NO I will not complain.] Usually my journal -which still needs a title-, is about my day but in the sense of an underlining theme. For instance, I title all my entries to imply the theme and write how that certain issue is intertwined with my day. I also do not write in it daily, so its selective days and it'll be more selected when I post it up.

- Short stories. I like making up stories so this will probably be something big.

-Random messages. Phrases and such, no poems because I tried once and I failed miserably.

-I'm not sure what else I'll be able to post here. I remember hearing that writers rely on experiences to create superb posts. So I'll attempt to experience intense stuff. (An example will be not talking for a day or several days, and writing a story about that. -Story, not the experience itself-) [yes, I talk a lot, so this is big for me.]

Any suggestions will be nice.

I like writing fiction, but nonfiction rules too, so I may post some of that here and there. (Like my journal entries and other nonsense) I did write a post for "SHWYD?" so that's nonfiction. It hasn't been posted. I'm guessing it's because there is an influx of people sending their stories, but part of me still feels that my sent in post was inadequate. But, here is to getting it posted!

Okay, this quick post turned out to be quite long ><

House of Fools

Hector cannot recall the day it started. The day he started to separate himself from the joint-stock company of society. Not by creating a social barrier but by releasing himself of the chains that is the human condition. Valuing the logic of a person than their feelings was a way of escape. Oh, he loved to escape. The feeling that he was able to stand in a hallway and watch the influx of people passing was exhilarating. Each leaving its mark, its color, on the white walls surrounding him. He was able to envision the final product of the faceless human that happened to pass by on their daily routine. He was able to capture their life in a still frame and stand in awe. He was able to do all of this but he never quite understood. Hector was just looking to get control, that’s what it’s all about, control. It was that and conforming to expectations, living to the standards of society that are both impossible and imaginary to meet.
He was lost. Lost, yes, lost; that's all that describes his facial features, his emotional and cognitive tendencies, his intentions and his love. Being lost was the path to finding himself, unraveling itself, opening all the locked doors and tying all the loose ends, until of course, it would lead him to more tangles, more problems, and thus back to square one: being lost. Although he was lost, society was still able to place him in a category: he was a dreamer, a thinker, and an idealist. It was not that he did not accomplish things, society merely placed him there because of the tangibility of his thoughts, the eclectic topics brought upon a mere idea and the reality behind his imagination. In the hallway where he stood, he was walking through the heads of individual after individual and as lost as he was in his world, in their world, that is the world he creates by penetrating their minds, he was able to be at peace. The exit to this hallway and his conundrum was at the end of the hall and yet, it was not there. The exit led to another hallway, whose proximity was he.
More amazed, than confused he took that exit that led to him. As he got closer to his true self, the self outside of the hallway, that self too ran toward the exit of the hallway towards a more true self, and this went on, infinitely. He stopped, turned around and stared. He looked down, he looked upon himself, and he lifted his hands toward his face and stared with awe. He pinched himself, he clicked his shoes together three times and lastly he tried to defy gravity. He was not dreaming, he was not in another dimension and he was not superhuman; it was real, it was his reality.
He sat down and pondered. He jumped from subject to subject: he thought about life, he thought about love, he thought about the world. He solved or actually, reached a conclusion for all of the sporadic subjects that came to mind while ignoring the pressing issue at hand. He wanted to feel at ease, he wanted his world to make sense because it was falling apart. He was holding on to the thoughts that held him together. He was trying to desperately survive the harsh world. He thought that by analyzing their habits, their way of life he would be able to dodge any vice thrown his way.
He thought, or to be more accurate he felt that by allowing himself to be less human he could in turn be more humane. The number of facades and fake smiles that made his life an ease served as a constant reminder that it was easier being detached. Looking down (in every sense of the word) on people without an emotional bond allowed him to reach a fair conclusion. It allowed him to systematically find the correct answer, the answer that proved to be more beneficent for more people in a realistic manner.
But that didn't matter now, because everything was falling apart. All the still frames of the random strangers that he could see through in an instant were getting darkened. They began to move. The people in the frames started climbing out of their places and walking out of the hallway. He looked around the empty room with no pictures to mask the reality. His art, his thoughts, his masterpiece, it was all gone and it got him nowhere. He stood in the middle of society and felt inadequate.
He followed society towards the exit of the hallway that no longer led to another hallway but to a bright light. They all stopped and he found himself in a painting. With a stroke, the artist erased person by person, until only he was left. Whoosh. His legs were gone. He could not move anymore. Whoosh. His arms were gone. He could not grasp anymore. He was losing himself more and more into the painting. He was disappearing in his consciousness, he was ceasing to exist. Whoosh. His body was gone. Whoosh. His mouth went too. He held in his tears, he was still allowed some control. He stared out of the painting. In front of him was another painting. This painting was pitch black. He focused on that painting and saw a point of light in the center.
Whoosh. With that last stroke he was gone. It was then that he realized the parameters of reality. Although he has ceased to exist as mankind defined it, he was still there. He saw reality in a different perspective now; it no longer ruled him. Reality is malleable; it can be conquered, stepped upon and brought down by its heels.
He stepped out of the painting, all feet and hands intact. He broke Reality's brush and stepped into the black abyss. There he walked deeper and deeper, getting closer to the light. He reached the object that was emitting light.
How it got there, he did not know. What it was, he wasn't quite sure. Why it was there, he didn't have the slightest idea. When it got there, only Time knew. Where it came from, was the least of his worries. Asking questions, adding to the ambiguity, and attempting on creating something tangible to his mind did not help reach the truth so he reached out and grabbed the bright object. The essence immediately took part of him and became one in an instant.
He was finally one, he was no longer lost. That essence was in him all along, all he had to do is be willing to look into darkness to find light. He stepped out of the frame and found himself in the hallway once more. All the paintings were back and everything was back to normal. He looked around and with a simple "goodbye," he parted ways. The hallway was just a stepping-stone, a stepping-stone he had to take.

His voice was never heard resonating from wall to wall; he was now alive.

Neighbors

"I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you`ll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Who has to know?
When we live such fragile lives
It's the best way we survive
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you"

Song: The Chorus by Donora
Book: Kino no Tabi: A Beautiful World

On September 12, I, like many other postsecret-on-lookers, posted their number on the postsecret myspace blog, hoping that a random stranger will text them their personal secret(s). At first, I could not stop staring at my phone hoping that I will AT LEAST get one, just one little secret. After thirty hopeless minutes that felt like an eternity, I received my first text. It was from someone in Keys, Florida. (I started to name them by "city, state" because it bothers me that it is just a number and I figured, if I am getting more, I might as well know who I am responding). [I had to make some creative changes to some contacts when it came to repeated cities, *cough* Phoenix, Arizona *cough*]. Enough of the technicalities let us get down to business.
At first, when I trusted my number with strangers from around the globe, I felt like Frank Warren when he said, "But I feel as though I took a leap of faith in humanity and humanity has not let me down," when he was answering a question about privacy. Then, as more and more secrets kept pouring into my inbox I began to realize that everyone else that sent their secret to me were the ones taking that "leap of faith" right into my phone.
The secrets were all different and they each portrayed their own emotion, ranging from bliss to despair. Some made my cry, others made me laugh for several minutes and others made want to be able to converse with the person to gain more perspective in life. I think what makes this whole "would you text a stranger your secrets," thing different from Frank Warren's original idea of sending postcards is that there is a tangible connection between both parties. You are able to get instant feedback and relief that the world sees your secrets (instead of waiting until Saturdays, on the myspace blog, and Sundays on his site). (& thank you for calling me a whore, a great perspective of seeing what I was doing; it really did make me laugh).

Here are the main classification of the secrets I received (key word here being "main," if you sent me a secret, and it's not classified here, it means that I only got a few of them relating to your subject, or I felt that in a greater scale it fits into one of these). :

Love, Romance, Heart Ache, Break-ups & Lust
There were many, many secrets about Love, and her sisters, Romance, Heart Ache, Break-Up and Lust. These secrets made me feel the most connected to all of you around me, because I share many of your secrets. I too wish that you loved me once. That maybe, that beautiful story in my head became reality. That I can stop drowning myself in those tears of that unhappy ending. I lingered on the decisions made by two individuals and how each affects each other after it is over. I also pondered if I should just go enjoy one-night stands. In the end, whichever sister decides to stand by you, there are vicissitudes, and there are definite consequences. See it both ways and then make a decision.

Death
I had the most trouble with these kinds of secrets. I could not really connect to any of you, and I am extremely sorry for your self-blame. I tried giving advice to some of you & even if you said thank you, I still felt that my few words were very inadequate. Your stories made me cry and wish that you were right next to me to receive a hug. Do not let the pain get the best of you, you will all make through your difficulties.

Sex, Virginity & Rape
Wow. Some of you people forgot that you were sending text messages to a seventeen year old. There are some kinky people out there. I do not think I replied to most of these because of several reasons. The "sex," reasons: I feel that sex can never be JUST SEX and even if you're just doing it to please yourself or the partner, there is still a connection that your body craves rather than just the whole "I’m doing a hot person right now," thing. (Why else do you think that evolution exists? You see something in that partner that will make the next generation survive, it is more than just an attraction, it is psychological). Also, I still haven't decided where I stand with the whole sex before marriage or not. The "virginity," reasons: we all have different meanings for virginity, for example, some of my friends don't think that oral really is sex, and thus no virginity is lost. In addition, virginity has different levels of importance for each person. The "rape," reasons: I think as long as you tell someone, it should be enough. That one little confession should kick-start the road to recovery, which only you can travel. (Of course, support from friends & family is needed, but you ultimately decide for your recovery).

Addictions and Disorders
I think these secrets gave me the most hope. To be able to admit your problem, seek help and conquer your addiction or disorder is amazing. Given that there is a negative side to this classification, it really was life altering. I felt heartbreak for those who could not make it through. (& to the one, who thinks you will not make it that one month, trust me you will. Wait for the 23rd, I know I am waiting.) This changed how I viewed disorders in general, because I never considered the human factor. All the will power that one human can have is incredible. Good luck to all of you.

Sexuality
I am a firm believer that sexuality is fluid. I have been raised Christian and been taught that any sexual preference other than heterosexuality is wrong. The good thing is that I do not believe in that. I think that whatever sexuality an individual chooses, it is his (male pronoun rule for the English language) own personal life. Granted, we all have our opinions and yes, there will be others who disagree with your lifestyle, but that is life. I think I used this for each of my "advice," for sexuality (only because I believe in it so much) "sexuality is part of you, it doesn't define you."

Marriage & Divorce
Although the divorce rates in America are nearly 50 percent (last I heard, not sure of the actual accuracy), I was still a firm believer that once you get married, overall there will be happiness despite the little arguments and differences between the couple. These secrets helped reinforce something I believe in, that love is not just about feelings. It takes more to make a relationship work; it is willingness from both parties and the ability to stick to it during hard times. Divorce taught me another thing. It is not all tears (at least for one party) because that freedom from being in a bad relationship must be exhilarating. After all, your happiness is much more important.

Friendships
Any kind of 'ships' requires input on both ends. These perfect friendships made me feel fuzzy inside. (Like the one I replied, "That is the loveliest kind of friendship I've heard of"). Yes, there are also the jealous type ones. In the end, it held a universal truth; friends can either make or break you. They hold you together and make your days. You confide in them whatever your heart desires and hope that whatever that is they understand and support you. It is vice versa. As much as you would like to be your friend, she probably wants to be you. When one is weak, the other is strong. That is friendship, the perfect combination.

Yes, I tried to reply to most of you, but if I did not and you wanted a reply, I am truly sorry. I did not respond to texts for four reasons:
1. I was not sure how my response could help or what to say.
2. I could not connect in a personal level, as I wanted to, and thus believed that I would cause more damage than help.
3. I thought that by just telling someone that should be enough.
4. You told me not to respond to you (yes, just one person told me not to reply, haha)
Sorry for my late replies, it takes a while.
Therefore, since I did not reply to some of them, I am giving you some of my secrets right now, one from each section. So here it goes:

Love, Romance, Heart Ache, Break-Ups & Lust
Although I do not like to admit it, I still wish that one day you would tell me that you loved me.

Death
I am afraid that my mom will not like my idea for my funeral. Invite only, no mourning, neon color dress code, my youtube video that will talk about life in general & that awesome huge raffle at the end of funeral. (Please do not steal my idea, but if you do, at least invite me [pay for my plane ticket if it is far :D] AND give me credit for the idea somewhere in your funeral).

Sex, Virginity & Rape
I actually do look down on teenage mothers. I do not care where the child came from. The one thing that makes me look up to them, is being able to work through all your problems, keep the child and STILL continue with your life.

Addictions & Disorders
I no longer want to personally experience the journey someone in an addiction or disorder goes through. I do not have enough will power to make it out of the disorder or addiction.

Sexuality
I dislike people who act like the stereotypes for their sexuality.

Marriage & Divorce
I believe that I am better off alone. I do not want to work at it.

Friendships
I always wanted to hear that someone could not live without me. I realized that actions speak for themselves. I love all my friends, very deeply.


The most important thing I learned from this project is that there is humanity. I had lost my faith in humans. I saw only negative intentions and viewed the world as such a sad sight. Now that I have received the influx of secrets, I view the world through a kaleidoscope. As Kate Havnevik's song, Kaleidoscope goes, "Through your kaleidoscope, it's beautiful. A tinge travels up my spine, a cluster of colors and twine as we melt into wine. You know me, how troubled I can be, but through your kaleidoscope, I let go. 'Cause you show me the world as it could be."


"The world is not beautiful, therefore it is." I absolutely love this quote and I feel that it fits with the postsecret community. This quote is taken from the book "Kino no tabi: A Beautiful World," and it explains the simplicity and complexity of the book. A writer for a review once said, (something in the lines of, since I could not find the review anymore!) "Kino travels the world and visits different cities and through the hardship and terror she sees the beauty in the world." Of course, it was probably more poetic, but the point I am trying to get across is that, there is "beauty in the breakdown." (From the song "Let Go" by Frou Frou).

Thank you to everyone who sent me his or her secrets. I treasure each one. I would also like to thank people in the following states, who helped me in trying to get all 50 states:
Alabama, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming.
Alas, I did not reach my 50 state goal. (THANK YOU to the person in CANADA. I do not know if I get charged if I send to other countries, so I did not reply, sorry. & I did not count you as Alaska, but thank you.)
The THREE states that I did not get were Alaska, South Dakota & Vermont.

I would also like to ask all of you to not continue to text me anymore. I understand if you just need someone to be hear your secrets, but there are many other numbers out there. Send some to my California friend that only got one, so I sent him some. (I named you "secrets," btw). Or other people that posted their numbers. The reason I do not want any more text flooding my inbox is that it takes a LONG while to go through all of them, sort them out and then reply. I no longer have time. I start college in four days. I do not think I am going to have the time to do so. -11.16.08 edit-I HAVE TIME. College is a lot easier than I thought it would be, and I'm flying by with 3 A's and 1 B. So it would be radical if more people could make me smile (:, i also respond -11.16.08 edit finish-[Also, don't sell my number, (this one is especially for Texas girl, sorry about your horse again) I don't want those herpes med discounts you were talking about ;)]
Thank you very much, you people have definitively changed my life for the better.
Although, we live very far way, I consider all of you thee best kind of neighbors. (Hence, why the post is titled "Neighbors.")
You guys are the best neighbors because you are close enough to keep in contact and just far enough to be private about each other. (& not to mention, I cannot hear your parties that last until 3am in the morning -like my real neighbors, every weekend.-)

Maybe, we will see each other when I am lots older, I plan to travel. (:

ps. - The quote above is taken from the song "My Dirty Little Secret," by The All-American Rejects. The song "featured" here was recently used for a postsecret video that was posted on Frank Warren's myspace blog. The book, I feel connects to the beauty in all of us. It really is interesting, you should take a look at it. The pictures I used all come from a site which is dedicated to street art. I am unsure of their actual titles and their artist, but I take the pictures I like from them to better describe what I write. If you notice the previous blog also has a picture, that's from postsecret. So, I don't own the pictures, I just really like them, so I save them.


-post edit-
11.08.08, I've been a bit hesitant on sending you guys all text messages about this post, but I would really like all of you guys to read it. So I'm sorry, if my text disturbed any of you. I'm sending them all today, so it'll be nice to hear from all of you. (:
-post, post edit-
I think most of you guys sent me a "Who is this" text, which lacked a question mark -__- haha, well, I'll try to get to texting all of you guys back on that question, but if you read the blog & sent the who is this text, then you'll figure out who I am, by the end of it, I Hope.
-post, post, post edit-
to answer who it is, I'm a stranger. (:

-pleaseeeee comment here, I don't mind getting text, but right now, I'm in the midst of responding the "who is this question" and it's a bit overwhelming, but in a few hours, I don't mind catching up.
Online catching up doesn't hurt either.

Transition

"Because I knew you...

I have been changed for good."

Song: For Good by Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth
I graduated high school about four months ago. They have started school and it still hasn't hit me that I'm not in high school anymore. I will no longer enjoy the safety net of friends I got block scheduled with for four years, the same old teachers and that small campus. Now I'm in college, where I know hardly anyone, the professor's faces are a mystery to me and the campus is a lot larger than high school ever was, or will be. I already miss my friends from school but I have yet to shed a tear for any of them. I know that once I move out or when I start school with unfamiliar faces its going to hit me big time but for now I'm looking forward to the college experience. Good Luck to everyone and keep in touch! (:

p.s. I realize that this isn't much of a "blog" but I guess, it sets the mood for some real blogs, whatever that will be. I will update here & on my xanga (if you're lucky enough to have me there) but I will try to write the really good ones or the ones I enjoy writing here. I'll try to update as much as I can, I don't know the workload I will get, yet.
Please, link me to your blogspot, xanga, or whatever else you kids use. I would like to read about your experiences and thoughts.
ALSO, each post will have a quote & possibly a song to go along with the post. I'd like to hope that they will be all interrelating. (the quote will be related, but I'm not sure of the song, that's a little tougher.) Maybe I can get a picture too, that'll be radical.