Forgotten Love

Anne,

How do I start this letter? I do not know. For it's the first letter I have ever written.

I hold no hope on you reading this letter, for the things I have put you through makes me cringe as I recall them time after time.

The only way of starting this letter would be saying the only thing that matters, I love you.

Before we saw each other for the first time, my life was empty, without meaning. And now, without you, I am nothing again. When you left through the door of that house, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I am ashamed to admit that empty alcoholic bottles litter my house completely, and have been littering it since you slammed that door in my face.

I have not gathered  enough courage to call you back after that disastrous call that took place the afternoon after you flew out of my life and should I try to plead forgiveness, dirt is thrown back to my very face, and fear now overpowers my every move.

I still  recall every second I have spent with you, though I know there are not many memories in your life associated with me. You've been in my life for a few years now, and it's not something I would willingly give up. 

Though I admit to making a mistake, I'm only human, and such mistakes, though not commonly, do occur, and mine was a minuscule one. I know if you're reading this, you're shaking your head no, it's a habit you have, to show your emotions before you even say them. And I know your eyes are clouded over, sad and tired, for you have never been able to hold in your tears for more than a minute. And I know you have been crying, we always seem to end up this way, with you crying and slamming the door, while I roll around in shame for yet another mistake I have committed.

You don't agree with the contents of this letter, you just think with rage and anger, overwhelmed by my misdoings. And I know. I know they're not only a few, but many and many, continuous over time.

I do not know what to say to you, I only know that sorry is not enough to make up for all the sins I have committed, yet what else to do is beyond me. I came to you as a broken man and with your love I became sane again. I tried to be the best man I could ever dream of being, only for you, but I wan't strong enough, I wasn't able to become the man you wanted me to be. I tried really hard to change for you but you only kept uncovering the nasty side of me until you grew tired and left, like all who have come to know me. I don't blame you, I never have. I only blame myself. For being unworthy of you and not being able to give you what you deserve. You are beautiful and full of life, so unlike any other I have ever seen. You stand up for yourself and you stood up for me, when no one else would. You found me in a somewhat desperate situation and held on to me, while all I did was destroy you.

And that's the tragic truth, it was you who found me, though it should have been the other way around. I should have found you. And I started to, I really did, but you've come to know me, you now I'm not consistent with anything, though I tried with you, and lasted longer than I expected, even if there were obstacles in the way.

I love you with all my rotten heart, more than seeds love the wind, more than a garden loves its flowers. I love you so much my stomach works up a state of agitation when I see you or when I hear your name. Please love me back, even if it's only a small portion of my own love.

My dear Anne, forgive me, forgive this worthless father of yours. Forgive an old man begging for a second chance with his daughter, Forgive me for leaving you as a child, for being a drunken mess in your presence, for never being your father properly.

I wrote you this letter. I did not know how to start, let alone how it was going to come out. But I did it, I did it for you. I did it for my little girl who's grown to be a beautiful woman. For no one else would I write a letter, for no one else would I express my love so deeply like I would for you.

With a bleeding heart,

Your father.

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I'm sure quite a lot of you have already begun 2015, so happy new year! I've still have a few hours to go, but I'm already excited for the clock to strike midnight. I wish all of you a perfect year, or as perfect as you can make it, and a very merry Christmas.

Thank you to anyone and everyone who has been reading my blog over the last year, and even more to those who have been with me longer. I started writing for myself, to express myself and let go of emotions. I still do that now, but you are a big part of what I write. I now write for you too.

Thank you to those who have left comments, it's something I really love doing, reading your opinions and thoughts. And to the silent readers out there too, for you are also special to me. Thank you to those who have spread my blog, even if it was only mentioning it to a friend. And I give a huge thank you to all of my own friends who have been supporting my blog and have had patience with my nagging them to read it.

I love you all. Comment, share, read and enjoy. May 2015 be awesome to everyone.

  Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

Bring me my leaving

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0kW4yIlmbY

A single note is heard throughout the whole meadow. So poised and refined, yet long and lasting, wanting to take on the real effects it single-handedly creates. Carrying on, desiring to release its ever lasting poison to the world.

I strain to hear it, seeing as it's unrealistically high-pitched. The edge it gives off puts any living being to shame. My thoughts drift to the times where playing the harp or flute were counted as normal, when my own instrument was between my two hands, crafted after years of hard work and determination.

Push away, get away. Don't allow it to get inside your head. Clear all thoughts, run away. Deadly poison. Deadly poison. Deadly poison. All of them, each and every one. Run away, forget, be save.

Teardrops glisten in the corners of my eyes. The sound is already poisoning me, it lures me. Addicted. Give it to me, let me hear more. I'm desperate, I'm paralyzed. I'm aching for it yet, I want it destroyed.

It's an Aaliyah, a beautiful form of divinity, created to last throughout helpless periods on to an ongoing journey, never to be stopped. A rhythm made to prolong agony, made to make you feel the vibrations it gives off until you surrender. A horrendous, deadly beast giving off shades of marvelous and lustrous rays. A weapon so captivating it brings you to your knees, makes you succumb to its power.

There were many placed strategically by the government, but they were thought to have disappeared with time. They were curiously shaped like the mythological creatures, the Nereids, innocent bystanders helping stranded sailors, half fish, half woman. Yet they had the voice of what one would say was an angel, Aaliyahs had the voice of Sirens, half bird, half woman. Greek legends who lured sailors to their death. The appearance of innocence, the harmonies of death, those were the Aaliyahs.

Think of something you desperately hate but at the same time love and need. That's what an Aaliyah brings out in me, that's what they bring out in anyone. The noise they make, it could be called a dashing hope of dreaming but it is known to destroy the very dream it creates. And to makes matters worse, there is one for everyone, a partner to accompany you for the rest of your days, created to match you, all while torturing and destroying you.

I want to run for cover, I want to hide from the deflected daemon sending wave after wave of power through me. Spring loses all its beauty as I scramble through the undergrowth, away from its breathing down my neck. The very nature of its confinement creates havoc in position.

To get away is the only power surging through my veins and I'm afraid if I stop, death will be upon me. But my lungs can not outrun this ongoing force, and my heart cannot pump blood fast enough to beat its score.

As I stumble to a stop, it's relinquishing, something I never even imagined would happen. I'm ready to fight, I'm ready to defeat whatever's invading me. The squeal it gives off makes me swell up with something I never imagined before; with pride, arrogance, spirit and dignity.

I'm ready to brush off its hold and push back whatever control it has over me, for I am strong and ready to fight back, but it overpowers me and I topple down, smashing my head into a puddle, making me come up coughing for air, and letting my gaze linger on my reflection on the water, producing a series of headache attacks and nausea. The Aaliyah is upon me, the Aaliyah is here. I reel back in shock and stumble backwards, half crawling, scrambling to get away from the presence from which I was merely inches away to touching with my nose.

I am in great distress, having to witness the fall of mankind, the weakness of all, the destruction of every being. This shadow is the end to everything I have ever known before, it is what controls and kills its owner and follower. Desolation and dejection cruises through my veins like a stream through a canyon. For before me, for before my very eyes, is the image of myself.


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Sorry there was nothing for October, I've had family issues and exams taking up all my time. Anyway, read, enjoy, comment (for all those silent readers, please) and share. Luv you.

  Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

Fall

Tis what life shall bring.

Let me be clear on what exactly dystopia means.

Dystopia:

An imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one. 

To make you understand better, I guess the simplest way of telling you what a dystopia is would be explaining the only thing that I have left in my life, if one would call it a life. This, is my story. 

It all started three hundred years ago, when the "internet" started to be developed massively.The time came when no one could have a life if not with their portable telephones. My distant relatives were firm believers of leaving behind that beast of a thing which sucked the life out of whoever held it in their hands. For them, it was merely an object to set aside. Now, those objects that were of so importance and vital for their living are now collecting dust in the very corners of the masers. Do you not know of the masers? Barely anyone passes by them, they are in the ruins of the old cities, those like New York, London and Madrid. I believe in the old language, the word for a maser was a museum. The older masers were torn down by the scum that filtered through the streets, merely a hundred years back, when everything started to go desperately wrong, for the ones who live the devastation left, is us.

For those who are to come, I fear for what may lay ahead. But for now, I may only suffer in silence, beyond what I have fought to avoid. Everyday I try hard to make amends with the society I now live in, but every day, I find it harder to survive. The sights all around me are like nothing you have ever seen before. The view from my very window would be considered an exceptionally unique landscape, except, for the fact that I personally dislike having rotten, melted rubbish just being dumped in front of my house for endless periods of time.

Some time ago, the need for electricity grew, and, with it, the necessity for water to cool down all the engines and generators. Now, that meant the sea levels started to decrease with the sudden overwhelming drain of the water in it. And, as everything in life, the water supply wasn't infinite, not even taking into account all the continental water that had already been pumped out in all the ways possible. Thus being the fact, we were left without water.

Technology advanced, and with it, some of the needs for water decreased though, unfortunately, it failed to advance fast enough, and the Earth became the desolate desert I now live in. Plants started to wither and die, trees became less and almost disappeared altogether. Rain forests and forests ceased to exist, masses of green erased from Earth. I fear there is not much more to tell you, for the only knowledge I posses has been passed down through generations, each story unwinding and expanding from its author, creating twisted story lines waving back and forth through time. Paper books were abandoned for the lack of paper, and, though technology prospered, it only did so for a while until thing began to go downhill with global resources and economies, retaking us to past centuries where knowing things was as rare as having money.

What I can tell you is the outstanding increase of the human population. So incredible was it that many, many, spaceships were sent out with thousands of people on each one, but because we no longer had any means of communication, they were lost forever into the great darkness. Such drastic measures were taken in vain unfortunately, and the planet was still filled to the brim, causing the deaths of millions by famine, droughts, being broke or having no where to live and sleep.

My time is now different. Nothing would please me more than being able to tell you everything is going much better and the human race has taken over again, but I'm afraid I can't, for we are now fewer than ever, striving to live a life never meant for us. To tell you about the marvelous smells I enjoy as soon as I open a window would be lying. There is nothing but foul odors invading your nasal cavity sensory cells, the very reason it is impossible to step outside without being poisoned. Yes, we are still humans just like those who lived so many years ago and oxygen is very much needed still, which is why it is supplied by tanks who try to recreate its original essence, but in vain. Tanks which are only chemical reactions determine our live source. Tubes, tubes that let us live.

Huge embankments of garbage and trash the size of countries right outside your window. No fauna to be proud of, only those that managed to have a mutation and survive the bitter conditions. Drastic changes in temperatures at sudden times.

For this to be left to those that remain makes me shudder. I for one, cannot say we are what we used to be, for greed and wanting everything destroyed everything. Our everything, the green planet.

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Do not take the Earth for granted, take for granted every day will never be the same for it. Take care of our dear planet, it will not last forever.

http://www.50waystohelp.com/

http://www.begreensystems.co.uk/

http://www.kidsbegreen.org/

http://www.wikihow.com/Help-Save-the-Planet-Earth

http://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/green-science/save-earth-top-ten.htm


Read, love, enjoy, share. Luv you

  Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

Regular Anomaly

He's at it again. But he doesn't mean it. Right? Wait no, no doubt. He doesn't mean it, yeah, I'm sure of that. Practically sure, almost sure. Almost? No, sure. Okay, stop it, you are sure, you are confident and you know it. You really know it. Go on, get up, go to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Yeah, that's it, with discretion, nobody is noticing , you're doing great. Stare into the mirror, go on. I see what I shouldn't see, I see a haggard woman, ridden with the years of continuous repetition. Mark. And spirits. My husband and alcohol.

For thinking it could go away so quickly, the punishment is to endure the pain for a longer period. Much to say about last night, yet so little to be able to tell. Imagine yourself in a dinner party with two old friends you haven't seen in a long time. Imagine a carefully set up table, with each tableware carefully laid out, each knife, each fork, placed with the exact measures required for the perfect dinning place. Imagine candlelight lighting up each plate with a exquisite delicacy, the amount needed to see the luxuries calculated on each place. A work of art, to be exact. And yes, I most definitely went all out to make everything perfect. Wouldn't you do that, taking in consideration that the friends coming to dinner were one of the richest and, I hate to admit, snobbiest couples around. To have everything laid out as it is supposed to is practically doing nothing for the great Mrs.Enriqueta Williams, note the sarcasm.

At the beginning, everything went as planned, with no reason to fear the wrath of gossip flowing around, sprouting from Mrs.Williams mouth. Then my dear Mark took out another bottle of red wine, and another, and another. Already Mrs.Williams mouth was turned down in distaste, and Mark's comments getting louder by the moment, reaching the level of shouting I was so used to hearing every single day, from dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn.

I know he doesn't mean it, he just really likes to drink, what happened last night was just another mistake of his, he doesn't mean no harm. Yesterday, an oddness in between the usual roughness of the situation, a disadvantage of sorts to the rest of us. Mrs.Williams acted affected while her husband merely looked looked down at Mark.And even they knew the worst was still to come, the starting of the parade was as commonly known as the introductions for the upcoming masterpiece, for the work of art prepared by the host of the show, in this case, Mark. And true to his word, Mark displayed an uncanny enthusiasm as he retold stories of the past, so enthusiastic with his wonderful past that the stores were being linked together in a nonsense of slurred words jumbling out in a hurried mass of misunderstanding.

I can not quite remember the number of the many wine bottles displayed on the table, nor can I recount the beers wasted in honour of the festivity. Shameful fact being the festive occasion used as an excuse, yet if not for a special night, many more would have been opened. I thoroughly hate, pardon my excessive use of the word unfortunately needed, anything to do with alcohol, ridden into my system throughout the years like a disease waiting to be cured, but never having enough funds to be able to get through the never ending bad patch. 

Throughout the night, a sour taste invaded my palate, in honour of my dear Mark. But he meant no harm, I know he didn't, he never does. It's only the alcohol taking, you can't blame him, it wasn't his fault. From many have come the words I now dread, one day he'll hurt you, don't take it lightly, it's a big problem, don't defend him, etc. But my mind may not care, for love has over-passed anything else, to even begin to ponder about the dangers only some people can bring on.

Rowdy and violent, desperate and loud, Mark is. But alas, never shall a fault of his be pulled to light by me. To me, he is but the divine perfection.The Williams wasted no time to flee the nest of destruction living in my household. If only but anybody else could see the halo around Mark, I wouldn't strive so for what is a building without its foundations.  And for what unknown fact shall I destroy the glue holding me together,  for which crimes should Mark pay, but for the one of loving me.

To me, the ruined table that lays in the dining room is worth but a mere thought, a bitter memory of a passed night. To me, the smell that still lingers throughout the house is like smelling yourself, you know it exists yet you are oblivious to the smell any longer. Yet, if I were to think about it I would smell it, and admit I must, the smell is slightly different. Lighter. For Mark passed out long before he could drink his daily share of alcohol, his rightful medicine, as he might say. A rightful sin, as others might say. A rightful life, as I permanently will say.

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Addiction to alcohol is not something to be taken lightly. The character in my story was a devoted wife who never saw any harm in what her husband was doing. She will sometimes lose it and think that it is actually wrong, yet she will continue to protect and defend him.

Alcohol addiction can be caused by many, many factors, of which we have no right to judge but we do have to take precautions with those who live around us, and take care of them, help them and, most of all, love them through it all, just be careful to not overdo it like my character, because then it becomes a serious problem that is very, very hard to overcome. The most important fact os to help with the problem because as much as you may convince yourself, it IS a problem.

http://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/ 

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/alcohol_abuse_alcoholism_help_treatment_prevention.htm

http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2013/09/26/steps-toward-recovery-from-alcohol-addiction/

http://www.narconon.org/drug-rehab/alcoholic-family.html

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/alcohol_abuse_alcoholism_signs_effects_treatment.htm

  Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

But never to touch and never to keep

She helped little Eion bundle up in his thin coat and covered him with whatever scrap of clothing she found. When she finished, Eion practically represented a little penguin, similar to the one he devoted his time to every single day, his favorite. You could sense the feeling of excitement that was being created among the residents, especially the little ones, maybe the only ones were actually those among those ages.

Lynn watched Eion scramble to reach the door first. For him, snow was something abstract, something he'd never seen before. For her, it was yet another sign of misery that added up to the years spent in that place. Eion's history was very brief, he had come from Africa with his aunt after a bomb had exploded in his home village, with him luckily away. He had come to know Lynn when he was just a sniffling grown toddler, and Lynn had made him the little brother she'd never had for the next three years of his life.

 She stopped him just as he reached the door and combed his already messy curls she knew would come back almost immediately. Lynn also knew that today was the day potential takers would come out and see which of the children seemed fit enough to take home, though those taken usually were always Eion's age, never more. Above six was an unwritten law clearly stating you couldn't take them home and those that were lucky enough never lasted much time outside the place. Located on the suburbs of Minneapolis, Freeman's Home for the Children wasn't generally known, which caused even fewer adoptions to happen and Lynn was determined to get Eion away as soon as possible. She didn't want him to spend fifteen years in an orphanage, like she had.

Moved from house to house, never fitting in, Lynn had had a horrid childhood. Used to being pushed around to and from places, she never knew the joy of a family. One of the social workers had once told her that her parents had meant to care for her but they'd never had enough money so they gave her up. Lynn had never believed it, it seemed as far-fetched as the stories fed to the younger children. Stories that made up the riches of parents but their accidental car accidents, stories that fed on children's hopes that their parents had actually cared and loved them. She wasn't as naive as they thought she was. More often then not, an infant was brought in, some even reaching the mere four days of age, having been found on the edge of a road or left by the dumpsters.No caring or loving parents, no matter the upbringing, would have left an innocent child like that. Abandoned was the only way to define it.

Lynn was considered as one of the workers now, at barely seventeen years of age, so much time had she spent there. Throughout the years she'd never had any of the staff giving her even more than a mere glance, let alone care for her or give her the love she so desperately needed as to not decay with time. She'd gone through abusive foster parents more than once, never to protest because, if she did, she'd be giving up the chance at a normal life, going to school and going out with friends or on dates. Her first kiss was given by a rotting foster father, determined to touch her body in more ways than one. and her first hug had never come.

Eion was happily playing outside, carefree, unknown to the world upon his shoulders. How she wished to have had a normal life, even arguing with parents was worth it to her. yet she'd grown up without love. She'd led an unforgiving life, being switched around in life, with barely three months in each home. Drugs and alcohol had both played an important part in her life, determining futures that went away untouched.

Lynn joined Eion in throwing around snowballs, hitting people in the face with a big flourish of snow and drops of ice. Eion had the face of one in pure delight, full of redness and joy, running around, dashing between people and squealing when a mass of snow hit him. How could anyone not want him? He was one of the happiest kids there, helping others reach the fulfillment of joy. Out of the corner of her eye, Lynn watched as a couple approached the front garden of the home and started to watch the kids. Oh, how perfect they were for Eion, a happy young couple filled with love to devote on him, how desperately she wanted them to take him home.

Lynn picked up the little squirt and started throwing him into the air, trying to get their attention. After a few throws, they looked interested enough and started coming closer. They started to speak to her and ask her questions about Eion, asking if he was her brother, how old he was, was he any trouble. Lynn answered as truthfully as she could without shattering his chances for adoption. In her mind, everything was going according to plan and it looked as if they really liked Eion, enough to take him home, to love him and to not let him turn into something horrid, ridden by the years spent in orphanages. No matter how much people did to change that situation, the only hope was to give love or take children home to be loved there.

When it looked as if negotiations were coming to an end, as if they were really happy with Eion and were ready to take him home with them, the tables turned. They went home and Eion was forgotten as their footsteps faded into the night. No other couples came.

Eion's first. Eion's first chance at going home with someone. Eion's first chance of being loved properly. Eion's first chance of getting out of the rejected kids home. And most importantly, Eion's first of the many times of disappointment to come. Lynn cleared away Eion´s tears, she too had suffered that disappointment too many times to count and each and every one of them were like a direct shot to the heart. It didn't matter if you thought they were finally going to be the ones, all that mattered was that you were never liked, you never were enough for them, for anyone. To Lynn it was clear that growing up and living the life she had, only brought endless pain and sadness, only brought solitude and helplessness. She begged for no one to ever live that.

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Is it me, or do children in this situation really get forgotten? Millions of children all around the world suffer because no one wants them enough to give them love, to care for them. For millions, each day is a constant reminder that they're alone. Now I'm not saying we should all adopt, obviously I'm aware not everyone who reads this actually does have enough income to be able to support someone else, nor do I think all of you are old enough to adopt anyway. I just want to say that sometimes we can do something to help, even if it's only going to volunteer or making small places like mine known ( Freeman's Home for the Children, as far as I know, doesn't exist), enough for people to also come to the smaller ones too, to give those children the chances they deserve.

Read, comment and share, my little minions.

  Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

The very heart of you

Staring up into the sky, the creature's vision was blurred. It could barely make out the sun's rays of light pouring down on it, fighting to win the others over to reach it. It looked around its surrounding, wondering where it was, wondering how it had ended up here, yet nothing satisfied its curious feelings. Blurriness was all around it, and it couldn't make out the forms and figures around it. Desolation filled its mind, though it knew what little capacity and capability of power it held.

Its eyes filled with dread as it realized it was sinking deeper and deeper into a pit, an abyss it never knew existed until that very moment, until it was going under. Droswining. No, drowering. Not quite, but almost. Drowining, drowning! Yes! That was it, finally it had come to its mind. Drowning, that was they had called it. Its master had said it was a horrible feeling, something that charged at your insides till they were no longer able to properly function and complete the job they had been assigned to do. As usual, he had been right.

This thing, this feeling inside it, it was ghastly, almost as if death meant to cut off its already meager link with its master. The chill that went through its body raked up enough shivers to momentarily divert its attention from the fate that awaited it. The very thought of being pulled apart from its master was something that nearly killed it and it knew that if that action were to be fulfilled, it would most definitely die. The same went for its master, if this being died so would the lord that controlled it. The tie that bonded them held them so massively together that any type of force on either of the parts would result to the death of both, with no means to stop the unstoppable.

Eyes turned upwards, mouth towards the exact opposite direction. Already it could feel the very air it breathed striving to reach its wavering lungs. It still didn't know where it was, why it was there and, especially, how it had gotten there. It figured its master had turned, and quite suddenly by the looks of it. It didn't consciously know that if its master were to change his side of mind, it would disappear and let a darker being, similar to it, replace it. The darkness would fill its master in such an increasingly alarming rate, that its center of existence would fade almost intermediately.

It would have never expected to be in this situation, where something as underestimated as air was extremely missed. Water, or whatever liquid that surrounded it, clawed at its lungs anxiously, trying to take out whatever smidgens of air that were left inside.

Its very existence depended solely on its master, yet its master was nothing without it. The beings disappearance would dictate the end of its owner, he would die if the creature ceased to exist. Its master was who controlled it, who had a say in its destiny, even in the was it behaved or the consequences behind that behavior. The creature was what kept its master living and thriving on life, it was what defined its master. When it drowned its master would be no more. Together, both were united by a force so strong, it was unimaginable to anyone else.

Desperate attempts were made to reach the surface, desperate measures that brought no happy endings. As the creature's eyes closed for a final time, it realized the importance it held and why it held. The last meaningful moment.

The creature was a soul.

The soul had died, forever ceasing to exist.

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Read, enjoy, comment and share. It really means a lot to me if you comment and share this. Love you.

                                              Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

Beaten by you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiUQE5bJKFU

The wind flew through the hair of every person on the street, creating whirlpools and knotting it up. Strands of hair whipped all around heads and delicate umbrellas were reversed. The cold seeped through clothing and odd garments were plucked from their owners and sent on the way of a fast-paced journey. Gloved hands and woolly hats could be seen all around. Trench coats soaked with water and suits carrying wrinkles. Rain splattered down on all moving things and drenched those who didn't move, adding shivers when mixed with the frosty air.

Business men hurried from one side to the other, yapping away on their phones, all caught up in the rush of work and oblivious to the rest. Girls fidgeted with their hands, anxious to go into stores and buy them out, while mothers tried to pacify howling infants on their shoulders, without avail. The sidewalk was crowded with obvious haste noted everywhere, and the cars did little to soothe the surrounding chaos. All around, vehicles honked and swerved to pass others in unbelievable ways, while cabs stocked up on the side, bikers twisted and dodged through the mass and  drivers yelled to pass through, let alone the buses, all barely moving from the mess and dying out their horns. 

Yet in the corner, aware of every detail but still to take part in it, sat a helpless pauper. She was a sight to see, yet nobody did stop to see her. Sodden hair clung to her face, being washed, for the first time in many days, by the deluging polluted water. Desolate eyes that stared at each passerby, with a tingle of hope to fulfill a dream of food, a dream that once was the nature of life, being consumed and fulfilled every single day, at least thrice. She knew nobody was going to stop and help her, nobody even had a second to glance at her. Many were the times when she thought to have encountered a helping hand, to discover the absence of a single look. She had been living there for four months, and knew the cold face of solace and abandonment, with each day passing as a blur of unknown faces and shattered hopes.

She had once known a safe home, far from the horror of the streets. She had once known the delight of a warm meal, two times a day. Something that now was impossible, and she knew that perfectly well, yet something in her sparked up every time she caught a passerby glance at her, a fleeting look. Long gone were the times when embarrassment overthrew her and didn't let even risk to plead, long gone were the days when she hid her face, in hopes of no recognition, the days when she tried to quell her uneasy hair. She used to be a proud woman, sure in her territory and deft in her skills, whatever they were. She used to be a lioness, in charge of her domains, and as mighty as any hunter that existed. Now, she was the last part of the line, the edge at the end of a cliff. Whatever once had been important, was now a bittersweet memory, left alone in the crevasses of happy days.

She had tried, she really had, she had tried to survive. but that had only brought more solace and desperation. Her eyes had seen many misfortunes, quite a lot of them hers to claim, yet she still had hope, hope that one day all those looks of pity that she received would do something other than that, something other than looking. She wished her life had turned out different but deep inside her she knew, she knew she would never get out of this circle of misery. Her life had been tested, and she had failed the exam, without knowing it was even taking place.

Her hands were kept warm inside her armpits, but still, numbness was a constant. Her fingers were wrinkled and worn from the street life. Age had suddenly taken action and her once defined and prided gifts were blended to age’s touch and desire. Dried chapped lips and shivering limbs were her day to day.

The rain pouring down on her did little to help her situation ,only now, it wasn't just cold what overcame her, but frigid sensation. Chill. Frost. The tattered clothing rescued from dumps and rubbish bins, allowed the air to seep through them and invaded her prickly, sensitive skin, acknowledging the incessant goosebumps.

She stared up at the many people passing, all oblivious to the water that trickled down her forehead, creating a mass of salty foul water on her dirty cheeks as both falling river-works, from the sky and her eyes, merged together.

Of course nobody would notice her, it's not like she expected them to. She knew that before even trying to get attention. As soon as she stared up into the face of a lonesome glance, she could read the pity and the sadness, yet those feelings never overpowered their owner, leaving her without the small change she so desperately needed. It was a perpetual tradition, an unspoken, unbroken rule among people of higher classes; to not give money to those in need of it , to not waste hard-earned money on homeless when just around the corner a Starbucks awaited, never mind the non-stop empty feeling in each of their stomachs. She lived in a society where money was destined to whims, where she was just a forgotten body awaiting food, left on the side, like a corpse left to rot.

Hypocrite women stared her down, with their charity events they raised money to help those in need, yet they ignored her and stuck up their noses, passing by her without a care to her trembling body filled with an entire wish of warmness. They stared at her, the purest sign of poverty on the street in front of their very noses, but nothing was done.

The freezing storm attacked her limbs time after time and she hunched up as tight as she could, closing her eyes and evading the harsh reality. This was the longest time she had gone without food,maybe a week or so, and her body strength was weakening. She even risked lapping up the water falling from the sky, knowing the diseases it carried.

   

She was left alone to survive on her own through the misery, till the eternal darkness put her out of it. Oblivious to pain and suffering. Hardened hearts leaving at their own will. Destinies to put in the hands of others.

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Speak the truth, how many of you have passed a homeless on the street and avoided their gaze? How many of you have felt great pity when going into a building, having seen a beggar at the entrance, diverting your gaze in hopes to not see them? Admittedly, so have I. We choose to not help those in need, we choose to opportunely forget there are those in worse conditions. We try to save money when buying food or clothes, some not even that, when that little fancy we're craving is just the money someone else needs to be able to have something in their stomachs, after days on end without anything. I'm sure you've all heard the famous line, "Keep your coins, I want change". We should definitely apply that to our lives, even just a teeny bit, every small bit counts as help, even if you doubt that statement. I just ask for you to think back and change something, no matter how infinite. 

Any way, enjoy your weekend!So yeah, comments down below and stuff like that. Thanks for reading, love you!

Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

Because I live so

I whimper as I slide and my body is rasped by the floor, causing me even more pain. I lay still and try to recover a bit. My breathing is heavy and my chest moves up and down quickly.

I look around the room, trying to see where I am. It's like a dark space and there's hardly any light coming in, it's the same room I've been in for so long. I feel small in this room and it seems the walls push against me, coming closer and surrounding me, invading the space I already barely have. All I see is gray walls all around me. Gray walls that have obviously seen better days, with crumbling wallpaper and rotting corners with mold. And the smell. God, the smell. It's like too many have died in here and their corpses have been left here to rot. Generations of cruel assaults and blows. It's also heavy with the scent of blood that hasn't been cleaned. Blood that sticks to your skin while it rests on the floor, telling me without doubt that I'm not the first and I'll definitely not be the last. I don't want to be in this humid and scary place any longer.

My mother, she used to tell me stories. She used to tell me that the children who didn't behave got taken away by a mean man. Sometimes, even if you behaved, he took you anyways. I was very careful after that for a few months, especially after my cousin left with that man. His mother cried after him, pleading mercy. That was what my mother did with me too. Barely a month or so had passed since Jacob when I was taken away too. My mother was frantic and very nervous, she didn't want this for me. She kept crying and begging but the horrid man never stopped to listen to her, everything she did was in vain, even trying to trip him. She knew the consequences of her acts and of that attitude, with a silenced shot completing her punishment.

I cringe when I remember her eyes as I was being pulled away, they were filled with sadness and grief and she was exhausted. As I rested my eyes on her for the last time, she closed her eyes and collapsed on the floor, never to open them again. Seeing your mother die, leaving you her last breath isn't easy, but little did I know at that time that being the cause of your mother's death wasn't even a tenth of what was to come. I would endure the pain of my mother's eyes filled with sorrow a thousand times than continue being under his hold.

There is suddenly a pressure in my ribs, leaving me gasping for breath. I look up and see lifeless eyes staring back into mine. The pressure is increased and I shift my eyes from his to look down at my own mangled body. Blood surrounds me in a puddle, rippling from the effect of laying on top of it. I'm not sure it's all mine, though most of it probably is. I whimper out in pain when the pressure of his dirty cleats, purposely glued onto boots to inflict more damage, is preventing the oxygen to get to my lungs. When he finally realizes that if he continues, I won't live to keep being his personal punching bag, I feel the air rushing through my nose again, a laugh reverberating above me. 

My body is marred and mutilated by the vile creature towering above me. Two months, two months have I suffered him. Eight weeks has my body been crippled through and through by him. Sixty days has blood seeped out on the floor from all my wounds. A thousand four hundred forty hours has he been punishing me for the mere fact of existing in this world, when I never did anything wrong. I didn't even have time to make a mistake before being violently taken from my mother and given the treatment for a criminal. It actually seems like I really am in jail. A jail where no criminal would survive.

Maybe he has finally had enough of me and will let me go, maybe he'll just choose another and let me wallow in my misery alone. Maybe there's still hope. Wrong, how very wrong I am. I flinch when he practices his aim with my stomach, yet again. Sometimes, he just takes a swing and leaves. Other times it's like he's a robot who mechanically swings back and forth, bringing me countless pain. This time though, he chooses a more direct approach. 

His foot smashes into my stomach without any care. Up, down. Rising, striking. A never ending attack. .Each time harder and each time worse. When he stops for a second, I'm crying out in pain, which only makes him give me a hard, cruel smile while he yet again rams his body weight on my tiny body. 

I feel really weak. I can't even lift my head up and my body weighs too much. Before I have the opportunity to get up, he thrusts his boot into my side, extremely hard, and I close my eyes while I'm plunged into a deep abyss of darkness and pain, with my limbs thrashing out searching for any crevice to grab hold of to help me out of this fetid hell.

He bellows out profanities when he sees I'm no longer fighting him, when I don't even have my eyes open. He spits at me and stomps out of the room. It isn't the first time he does this, going away without giving me a second glance. I haven't eaten in days and my stomach is empty, with the infinite amount of food that I've been able to eat thrown all over the floor. Apparently, if enough kicks are thrown at your underside, whatever it held ends up on the floor. Now, it's just another constant pain joined with the others. I'm not even given the luck of going numb, I feel every bruise, every wound. I even feel all the broken bones that that bastard has given me. I never did anything to deserve this.

My eyes are closed but I know it's dark already. The days pass as a blur here and time no longer holds any meaning to me. I try to open my eyes, and only manage to see through a very thin line, seeing as they are really swollen up. I no longer recognize my body as it's been broken and pulled and slashed all over. I'm not who I was. My energy is rapidly decreasing and even I can barely hear my heart beating. My throat is sore and dry, my tongue leaning on the side. The heavy pants have stilled and I try to muster a bark unsuccessfully. Even my bark, the one thing left to define what I am anymore, has left me. I used to think that being what I am, I wouldn't have to be at the hands of evil. I wished I'd never been wrong.

I uncurl my two front legs and stand up unsteady, only to collapse back on the floor, which only causes to reopen the temporarily closed wounds again. My eyes are thin slits and there isn't a part of my body not tangled. I try to drag myself over to the door but I even fail at doing that. I heave heavily. Any part of me that I try to use is too damaged. I feel dizzy and I know it's the end. I take one last raspy breath before closing my eyes forever.

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Animal violence is not a subject to be taken lightly. All over the world, even in the most civilized areas, animals are beaten to death or hit countless times. When you wonder the reason for these brutalities, the answer you try to grasp is that the animal did something wrong. That's a mistake we all make. No mater what the poor creature has done, making another living creature bleed should never be accepted, especially since it probably has no idea whatsoever of what it's done. It would be like beating your neighbor for opening his front door. Yes, it's as ridiculous as that. The next time you get mad at your pet, don't punish him for doing something that comes naturally to him. Remember, it was humans who first introduced animals into our households, taking them from their habitats and forcing them to live a completely different life. The next time you see someone hurting their pet, don't look away disgusted, just act on it, only a few words, that's all it takes. The puppy in my story never did anything wrong, he just was a the wrong place ate the wrong time. The amount of animal victims that fall into cruel hands in incredible.

Facts that might interest you;
http://www.americanhumane.org/interaction/support-the-bond/fact-sheets/animal-abuse-domestic-violence.html
What can you do?
http://www.aspca.org/fight-cruelty/report-animal-cruelty/top-10-tips-reporting-animal-cruelty
http://www.aspca.org/fight-cruelty/report-animal-cruelty/report-animal-cruelty-faq
http://www.aspca.org/fight-cruelty/report-animal-cruelty?creative=41403209118&adpos=1t1&device=c&network=g&matchtype=b&gclid=CLKX1c6CzL0CFTMetAoda1AA_w

Anyway, thanks again for reading, I really do love you all.

P.S. I'm going to Portugal for Easter so I don't know if I'll be able to upload. Oh! And  my birthday's the seventeenth!!! Yay!

Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

Life's on me

I apologize for the next post if it makes you feel...um, sad or depressed. Those are not my intentions, I can promise you that. The song is there because it goes with the story.  If it makes you uncomfortable I also apologize, if you're squeamish too. I tried to bring it down a bit. I just felt it was necessary. Read Author's note at the end, it's important.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0U0AlLVqpk

Suicide: the act of intentionally causing one's own death. 

Do you know that feeling of desperation? Of not being able to do anything. Not going, not coming.  Not moving.

I do.

Do you ever feel like you don't belong, no matter where you go, no matter what you do?

I do.

Do you have that feeling when nobody ever listens to you? Almost like speaking to a wall, with an animal being more responsive.

I do.

What about when you're with your family? No one listens to you, you're invisible, you're nobody. Not even yourself. You feel like an intruder, falling deeper and deeper into a hole, no one there to catch you, sooth you or help you. Have you ever known that?

I have.

Your friends? What friends? No one is there, no one ever has been, no one ever will be. Do you feel lost?

I do.

Do you belong? No.
Do you feel safe? No
Needed? Wanted? No. And well, no.

Forgotten? Yeah
Left aside? That too.

I'm in my bathroom, alone, as always. My wrists aren't normal anymore. Too much time has passed. Too many cuts have been made. Too many bruises. So much has changed. I know blood is sweeping out through a few cuts, even more out of the recent ones. It's been a long time since I last cared about getting everything dirty. Many of my clothes are impregnated with dark spots, because I couldn't be bothered enough to throw them in the dirty-laundry basket. It's not as if anyone cares if they're like that.

My mother? Oh, she's here. Just not here for me. My father? Never home. My brother? Well, I guess jail is going great for him. He might have escaped, only his 'friends' would know. I have a feeling my mother is seriously worried about him, never mind my constant trips to the ER's.

Every scar I posses reminds me of everything I've been through. Every scar brings back a memory. I'm not an attention seeker, as many of my school mates so kindly like to point out. Note the sarcasm. I inflict pain on me, yes, but I don't actually consider it a pain. I consider it my escape, the thing that gets me out of the hole I'm in, a hole that keeps getting deeper. Darker. When the blade slides through my skin, all my concentration goes there, keeping my mind from wandering to other not allowed places. Unfortunately, it's considered a sort of taboo among my peers, the very mention of auto-harming bringing uncomfortable moments and awkward silences, and with it the absence of friends.

Nasty thoughts have gone by my head many times but I barely acknowledged them. This time it's different though, this time the word 'suicide' is strong in my mind, this time I know it's a very big option and, right now, one that really seems possible. All I'd have to do is change the direction of the blade. Just upwards, a little blood and I'll die. It looks like I'm ready to die anyway. I'm not conscious of my actions, but this starts to get through to my brain, feeding it stories. Maybe suicide is the best option.

The blade with a few drops of my blood is just sitting peacefully in my hand, unaware of the deadly action it has to perform. Unaware that if I slightly shift it and bring it up the length of my forearm, I will be no more. All my problems will have disappeared, no more worries, no more tears, no more me.

I shiver, already feeling slightly tired from the blood previously drained blood in my wrist. I look up and stare at myself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes. Dirty face caked with dried tears, new ones replacing them. Yucky snot. My once soft hair knotted up and uneven, from the time my anger surpassed me and I cut off a section of it. My mouth turned downwards, used to being that way after so many months of being present. My eyes look so sad. Not even a spark, just a dull brown.

Suicide would relieve me of all that, but what would I leave behind? Friends I once laughed with, family I once cared for. Friends who once gave me security, family who once loved me.

I don't mind anymore, I ceased to care some time ago. I don't exactly recall when it all started to go wrong. It just did.

I even started to take drugs, but that didn't work out so well so I went back to my old ways. I do take a medicine though, an anti-depressant I think they called it. It makes me fuzzy and I can't think straight, I even imagine stuff sometimes. Well, most times. Okay, maybe almost all the time. It's when I'm not taking it when I turn to myself, thus making me feel emotions and feelings, something the medicine doesn't allow me to feel. It makes me rave and forget everything around me.

I took it only a few hours ago, and suffered it's effects but I'm already starting to feel real life. I can feel the numbness going away and reality settling in slowly, like dusk at the end of the day. I start to shape up and notice the sharp sting in my left wrist and run to clean it up. I've done it again. My wrist stings and red water goes down the pipe, but unfortunately my thoughts with it don't, running again through my head, only this time, this time they acknowledge more people, lessening my hate towards myself.

My hearing slowly gets better and I can hear my mom pounding on the bathroom door. I quickly unlock it open it up. As I stare up into her face, I slowly take in all the details; her tear stained cheeks, puffy red eyes, the way her hair is messy like she has messed it up with her hands in a worried stance too much, her small frown on her mouth and her slightly runny nose. She stares at me for a few seconds and crushes me into a big bear hug, leaving me breathless.

She tells me she's been so worried. That she had been calling me for ever so long and I didn't answer so she came upstairs, only to find the bathroom door locked. She's still saying my name over and over again. I don't know if it's the medicine again, the damn anti-depressant, but I start to zone out, barely hearing her, that is, until what I slightly hear shocks me back to reality again.

"Jamie and Alex are downstairs, worried about you too."

Jamie? Alex? Who are they and why are they worried about a nobody like me? I barely go out and when I do, it's to school, where I'm already high on my medicine and never notice anything else. I visibly recall I had two best friends with similar names, but the rest is a blank. I go downstairs and see two figures staring at me. Suddenly, they rush over and begin asking me if I'm okay, promising me it's all going to get better. Saying nice words about my supposed 'problem'. I get overwhelmed and slightly dizzy while a feeling of nausea takes over.

They see me and quickly take me over to the couch where, surprisingly, my brother is seated at. What is he doing here? I don't dwell too much on that and slide down on the couch. That's when Jamie speaks.

"Wanna know something? We're still here for you, no matter what you do, no matter what you've done. We've been here for you every single day, every step of the day, only to see you distancing yourself from us more and more. Your family agrees with us, we just want you to know we still care for you, we still love you, You have to snap out of it. And now!"

Jamie's always been blunt and never hesitates to tell me off, just like right now. I look around and see the most important people in my life, all helping me out, carrying on for me when I wasn't able to, caring for me, loving me. They are still talking but I'm not even listening to them anymore, and like I usually do, I zone out again, only to have my thoughts take me back to my bathroom, barely half an hour ago. I was going to do it, I was going to commit suicide. End my life.

I was pretty confident before, now, I'm not so sure. I do know that the anti-depressant has played a huge part in it, but I still need that, I still need to survive in this world. Only, now I'm realizing that I'm not alone in this. I have friends, who cares if only two. They are with me now and they'll stay with me. I have family, who sticks with me though thick and thin. They all love me, just as I love them. Yes, suicide is definitely never an option.

Do you know that feeling of desperation? Of not being able to do anything. Not going, not coming.  Not moving.

I did. Now I'm moving forward.

Do you ever feel like you don't belong, no matter where you go, no matter what you do?

I did. Now I've never felt better.

Do you have that feeling when nobody ever listens to you? Almost like speaking to a wall, with an animal being more responsive.

I did. Now I feel like people actually listen to me.

What about when you're with your family? No one listens to you, you're invisible, you're nobody. Not even yourself. You feel like an intruder, falling deeper and deeper into a hole, no one there to catch you, sooth you or help you. Have you ever known that?

I have. But I also know that that feeling goes away.

Your friends? What friends? No one is there, no one ever has been, no one ever will be. Do you feel lost?

I did. I just didn't realize that I was actually with them all along.

Do you belong? Yes
Do you feel safe? Yes
Needed? Wanted? Most definitely.

Forgotten? Not anymore.
Left aside? Never again.

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Hey! Sorry for not uploading earlier, I have lots of started stories but never enough time to finish them and upload. I'm also continuously with exams and that takes a huge toll on me, especially since the minutes I have free are for sleep and social life. Yeah, yeah, I have a social life. Weird, huh? Anyways, here's another post, I hope you've enjoyed it, or at least I hope it's made you think a teeny bit. That's one of the other reasons that I've taken so long to update, it was tough writing this.

Suicide is something serious. Many, many people go through all the emotions and feelings my character has gone through and not so many are lucky enough to survive death like mine. When people suffer, it's sometimes not obvious at all, or you don't think it's that serious. Everyone has their history. And that history may be something that helps them overcome problems, but it can just as well turn around and make your life hell while you remember it, maybe even causing you to end your life, something that should never even be considered an option, basically because life at it is, is something special, we are able to breathe, walk, talk, love, hate, travel, learn and teach. If you are considering that suicide is something you'd like to do, just to end everything, just remember that there is always someone who loves you or at least cares about you. That you're not alone and there's no reason whatsoever to not share your life with someone else. If may be dark right now, but that doesn't mean that it won't be bright and shiny in a future, maybe even a near future. I know it's old, but seriously, I can promise you right now that it WILL get better. I know everyone says that but it's just obstacles you have to jump over, the biggest one being yourself. If you're doubting, remember that no matter how strong everyone around you is, no matter how defenseless you feel, no matter how you think you're not strong enough to do anything, remember that you are probably the strongest person that exists, you can overcome anything. And it's true, you can. All those people around you, they all have their problems, they all suffer too and maybe they look strong because the want to be strong. You have to want to do something, to do it. All you have to do is believe in yourself.

I love you, and thank you for reading. I'll try to update as soon as possible and please comment. Just to know your opinions, your thoughts or even your criticism. I want to get to know you and share my writing with you, and I'm here for whatever you need, that's why there's an anonymous option. Every time someone comments, I'm filled with warmth, so please comment.

Stay happy.

Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

Love me, please

My heart aches, and I can barely breath.

I want to cry, I want to shout, I want do hit something. But I can't. There's this knot in my chest, and it keeps getting worse. I want to move but I'm still, I can't move. My body refuses to let me move, my feet don't respond my brain and my arms don't follow orders. I'm just in shock.

Dennis just broke up with me. I can still remember those painful words he told me. He said that things had changed between us, that he could tell I had changed my feelings towards him and that he couldn't be in a relationship with someone who didn't care for him any longer. I was stricken when he said that and walked off. He was so wrong.

I love Dennis with all my little heart and I can't bear that he is no longer mine, that I can no longer push his soft brown hair out of his eyes. That I can't give him a little peck when he's near or that we can't hold hands.

It is true that lately I've been distant with him, but that's because I'm worried. I'm worried that he has stopped feeling about me the same way, that he now loves someone else. I guess I was right. I worried he would leave me and that's exactly what he did. I wonder what's her name, if she's pretty or if she loves him maybe only half as I do. I doubt she loves him more than I do.

Maybe she'll lean into him and they'll cuddle up together while watching the sunset, you know, all that typical mushy stuff they say in the movies. Maybe they'll hold hands and walk together. But they won't ever be the same as us. She wont look into his eyes and be captured in another universe, she won't know his sudden mood-swings or how he was when he was little. They'll never be like we were. And at the same time that heartens me, it brings me down. I don't want Dennis to be unhappy, but I'm selfish and I want that happiness to be because of me and for me.

I love him so much and it's my own fault he has left me. He thought I had stopped loving him, and for that reason gave up on me. I don't know how I'm going to get through the next day, seeing him in school and not talking to him for the first time in several years.

*The next day*

I catch my breath when I see him, dressed in his grey jeans and light blue t-shirt. He looks so normal yet he still captivates me every time I see him, he has done that since the very first day, when we were only kids and he threw the lunch my mother had prepared for me all over the floor and I burst out crying. I can still remember his face when he saw my tears and brushed them away, a guilty look in his eyes. I didn't know how much someone could love another person then. Over the years we became inseparable and told each other everything, and then our friendship slowly became something else. We became dependent on the other and jealous when we weren't close together or when someone else flashed one of us a cocky and flirty smile.

He catches me looking and changes his expression, into one I can't recognize, and I've seen many of his different faces. This one carries some sort of hate and disappointment, as well as regret. I can tell there is still a special type of love in his brown, deep eyes. I can guess my own expression and I know it isn't good, I feel like I've let him down but I don't know why. I want to get closer to him but I know that if I do that, he'll only run away.

I decide to do it anyway and start getting closer to him. As I'm close I can see in his eyes a flash of pain which makes me momentarily stop, but that only makes me more determined to figure out all of this. I just want to get back with him, forget whatever had me worrying, assure him that my feelings were the same as ever, if not more than before. I want to tell him I still love him, that I've only been distant these past few days because I thought he didn't love me, basically because he was being distant too. We were both wrong.

As I step even closer to him, I see a flash of blond hair on my right heading straight towards Dennis. My breath catches in my throat as I see her lean into him and give him a peck on the cheek. God! It was only yesterday we broke up and he's already with somebody else. A badly dyed, chest-operated, flouncy and snob blond. Okay, maybe the poor girl isn't actually that bad but I'm really pissed of here so give me a break. My mouth is still gaping open when he turns towards me. He sees my face and is immediately alarmed, panicking away. This time, my eyes do win me over and start to tickle and burn, I can't cry in front of him. Eyes, hang on! Don't cry, I keep repeating. Too late... Tears start running down my cheeks and I can't be in front of the new couple anymore. So I do what's in my nature, I flee.

*Dennis' P.O.V.*

Shit! May! Oh, god. She can't have just seen that. She doesn't even know who Jenny is. She's probably freaking out right now. I look into her eyes. Man, sometimes I hate being right. Her eyes are brimming and it looks like soon the damns will break. And there I go again, being right. She rushes off and I'm heartbroken. She doesn't know Jenny, I meant to tell her about it but never got around to do it, especially after the fight and the break-up.

She has to believe me! She has to, she has to! I can't lose her. I've always been on the shy side though with her it's as though I'm in another world, a world where everything is trust and laughter. A world where I can actually be happy and not have to worry about my family or what people are going to say about me. I can be safe with her. Safe and happy.

 I look down to my grubby shoes and swear once again. I hate to swear but I can't lose her. At least not as a friend, I don't want her out of my life. Heck! I don't even want to stop going out with her but I had to do it. I don't want to love someone so bad only to not have them love you back. I thought I knew May, and I thought she loved me. I actually thought she loved me back but I guess her attitude lately with me just proves I was wrong. Maybe I didn't contribute much but she started being weird and all sort of like silent last week and maybe she realized I wasn't worth it anymore. I hate being insecure. And I hate that I adore May with every fiber of my being, with every speck of dust on this planet, with every millimeter of my bruising heart.

I'm pretty sure she thought wrong about Jenny, actually, I'm absolutely confident she did. There's no way on Earth that I would cheat on her, even less with Jenny. Disgusting. That must have hurt her but going after her would only make things worse, I know her and she has probably run somewhere not even I know, just to be alone. She doesn't love me anymore, that's the only thought in my head.

I just want her to love me. To come back to me.

*May's P.O.V.*

I run blindly, almost crashing a few times and I'm pretty sure that tomorrow I'll wake up with bruises. I don't even know where I'm going, I only know I'm going where my feet are taking me. A route I lately use a lot. As I start to see more clearly I realize that I'm heading towards the park where I used to go to when I was little. A park that holds many, many memories for me. It was where I went to before I knew Dennis, where I used to spend endless hours by myself, playing with the sand or swings and watching as other children ignored me and only went with their own friends. Friends I never had, but always wanted.

This week it's been my hiding place, the only place I know Dennis won't come to look for me. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even remember that this was where we met. That time oh so long ago that he threw my sandwich on the floor and then brushed away my tears. That slight moment when things happen for a reason but you don't know when or why. As I sit on the swing once again, his face flashes into my mind again and I sigh. How can you love somebody who doesn't love you back. And that blond, oh that blond. I want to run into his arms but I know he wants to be alone. I know he doesn't want me around. I go to a bench and lay down, not wanting anyone to see me.

I just want him to love me. To come back to me.

*Dennis' P.O.V.*

I don't want to be alone. I want her to me with me, around me and clung to me. A smile slips as I remember the many times we've taken a nap together and she's there with her legs and arms wrapped around me, like hanging on for dear life. Then, as soon as it came, it goes, when I realize she won't be doing that anymore. She doesn't love me.

I decide to talk a walk. After some time, and lots of thoughts rushing through my mind, I find myself in a park. A normal looking park, except for the fact that it had rusty swings and damaged slides.

Even the little figures kids could get up on were old and one could tell that it hadn't been used for a long time. There was even a seesaw, but it looked as if nobody had gotten on it and made it swing up and down for a very long time.

It reminds me of the days I ran around with May, just enjoying life and screaming our heads off. I doubt that park still exists. I do remember sweet, bright grass getting into our clothes and mouths, while we were rolling around laughing hysterically.

As I was coming I though I saw someone in the same park I'm in, but seeing as there's nobody here I guess it was just my imagination. It could be because I was distracted though, because I can't stop thinking about May. 

May was probably the only woman I've ever loved. What am I saying? IS, she is the only woman I'll ever love.

I still remember the first day I saw her; she was close to the swings in some sort of park, eating a sandwich I guess her mother had made her. Of course, at that age, girls were viewed as germs, so I did what any boy my age would do. I ran up to her and threw the sandwich on the floor, just to laugh a bit. Little did I know that when I saw her teary eyes and trembling bottom lip, I would be filled up with guilt and warmth towards her. I swept away her tears and haven't left her side since then. The first time I loved her was then and I fell in love with her few minutes after, when I told her a joke and she laughed, with a smile so precious and beautiful it could make any negative feelings inside you disappear. Her mouth was her bow and her arrow was her smile, diving straight for my heart. One shot and she hit the bulls eye. 

The park looks so lonely, like a lost puppy after just being separated from it's mother. What I can imagine was once a splendid park, blooming in glory with loads of kids running around had become another place for teenagers to roll around in while getting drunk. It had obviously been through splendid times, only to age and be forgotten as it's once loyal followers age with it.

I realize all I've done is just stand there doing nothing, thank god nobody was actually watching me, so I make my way over to a bench near some bushes and sit down, accidentally making a twig snap, before lying down on it, just so I can gaze at the clouds floating above me, flying freely and wishing it was me, with May.

*May's P.O.V.*

Someone's in the park with me. I can hear him and yes, I do know it's a him, even if it's only because of the heavy footsteps I hear, knowing quite well that no girl can make that sound. I am still, not wanting to make a sound and close my eyes, hoping he'll just leave and let me get on with my sulking, the tears have long gone.

Before I realize, I wake up. I must have snoozed off a bit although not much, the sun is almost in the same place it was before and the slight shade the tree nearby is giving me has barely shifted. I suddenly hear a sniff and I'm on alert again, he hasn't left. Unfortunately for me, it sounds very close, almost as if he were beside me. I slowly sit up and look around, not seeing anybody but gasp when I look down and find myself gazing into the greenest eyes I have ever seen, eyes that I know exactly who they're from. Dennis. It's the only word in my head. Dennis' eyes grow large as they recognize me, but they never leave my own. They are locked together, his hand has moved up and is cupping my cheek, while my thoughts are replaced by Ed Sheeran's Autumn Leaves (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r98svcsH9fs). It's the perfect song for us right now, when yesterday he was mine and today he's hers.

I'm shocked to see that his eyes are a bit red, probably relating to the sniff I heard earlier. Dennis never cries, he doesn't m¡want to let water win him over, he never has so seeing the remains of what might have been a slight cry makes me think that maybe, just maybe he still loves me, enough to cry. Neither of us make a sound, wanting to to something but at the same time scared to do it. He clears his throat and begins to speak in a raspy voice, the raspy voice that I have bean hearing for years and love.

*Dennis' P.O.V.*

"May", I whisper, making it barely audible.

"May. Oh, my May. My little drop of sunshine in the rain", I say, referring to a joke between us, seeing as her name is May and in May  there are many, many storms, through which May and I have gone through together. Never mind, I get it.

I know she is waiting for me to say something. I obviously need to say something but I can't bring myself to do it, it's too painful to have the love of my life in front of me, knowing she doesn't love me back. Her hazel eyes are puffy, swollen and red, giving away that she has been crying, and by the looks of it, for quite a long time. I feel a sickening in my stomach, knowing that this is because of me.

"Jenny"

"Jenny? What do you mean Jenny?" She looks at me, puzzled.

"She's the blond you saw earlier on. I swear we have nothing. There is nothing between us. I don't care about her like I care about you. She's just someone who won't stop following me, I'd never have anything with her. In fact, she's just like my little sister, that's all she is to me. I'm just going to risk everything to tell you, I love you May, I've never loved anyone else. There never was anyone else for me, just you. I'm serious May, I don't care if you don't feel the same way. Well, of course I mind, I mean if you don't love me back It will hurt but I'm trying to understand, to make you feel okay with this. So n a special sort of way it doesn't really matter if you love me or not. What I'm trying to say is that I love you over everything else. You are that part of me that without it I would feel empty. Without you I can't do anything in life. May, don't cry. Look at me honey, I don't care if you don't love me back, I'll accept that even if it hurts, so don't feel guilty." I get the words mixed up and I highly doubt she caught what I was trying to tell her.

May is looking at me with tears in her eyes again. I stand up and walk around the bushes that separated us. As I sit down with her on the bench, I take her hands and hold them in mine, while not letting go of her eyes. I don't know if what I've just said actually means anything to her. After all these years and I still don't know what she is thinking right now. It's so frustrating. Maybe I'm too late, maybe she's already let me go, maybe she's realized I'm no longer worth it, or that her new boyfriend is better. She sees me staring off and catches my attention again my clicking her fingers together. As I stare back at her, millions of thoughts running through my head I realize she has stopped crying and is smiling. Actually smiling.

*May's P.O.V.*

Wow. For a few moments back then I couldn't say anything, let alone show any emotion. After Dennis comes around and sits next to me I begin to swallow his words, and understand what he is telling me. He loves me! I'm probably smiling like a fool right now, oh well. He loves me, he loves me. We both should have listened to the other, that way no misunderstandings could take place. Relationships are all about trus and communication, so if you have a problem, just go talk it out.

I don't even bother replying. I gently cup his cheek and lean into him. Dennis sees me and leans in too. Our foreheads are together and we're looking into each other's eyes.

"I love you too", I say before joining our lips.

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sorry for the sappy ending, I just adore cute things like these. It actually was much much longer,Jenny was going to do stuff and there were more people involved but that would have been way too long, especially since this isn't a story I'm updating chapters on. And well of course there's the fact that I lost it...yeah, you can kill me.... I forgot to save. Whoopsie.

Misunderstandings can lead to many bad things. Whether you're in a relationship or with your friends try to keep those misunderstandings to the minimum so no one gets hurt.

I also want to say sorry. Sorry for putting a post up like more than a month later since the last. When I lost this post and had to rewrite it entirely,I sort of lost my motivation to keep writing with it.Especially when I barely get any comments, I don't know, it just isn't very motivating. I'm also thinking of writing a story parallel to the posts I post, meaning I'll still post stuff, random stories and all that but at the same time a story. The thing is, I wouldn't know what to write about and if a story would be well received. That's where you guys come in, Do you want me to write a sort of mini-novel or not? If so, what are your ideas for it?

Anyway thanks again for reading my blog and please, pretty please with a cherry on the top, please comment.

Love you

P.S. Changed the blog a bit

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