Breathe
Feel your heartbeat
Call someone you know
Email someone from the past
Let your hair down
Look at yourself, and say,  "Beautiful"
Tell someone they look awesome
Play a video game with your sibling
(or a buddy)
Read a book
Meditate
Go for a walk
Dance
Anything that you enjoy--
Singing
Eating pizza
Spaghetti
--that tells you that your existence is important
Blow your own mind
with trivia
random acts of kindness
travel
See a new country
Exercise
Buy a candy bar
Put a puzzle together
Draw

Find who you really are in any way,
not because it is a person telling you
what you should be, where you go, what clothes look good,  what makes you great
Make your own path
Make your own happiness
It is so you can smile
Create your own joy
And then stick your finger to the person that is trying to force you to conform!

I couldn't smile today, of all days.
I felt so mad,  angry,  at the routine of everyone.
Hating someone then pretending to love them irritates me.
Christmas is supposed to be joyous, a time of smiles and joy with memories.
Getting mad when you don't get the gift you wanted?  Grow up.  
I watched someone I love not be able to stand up to hug his family at Christmas!
Angry because someone took your ***** Santa gift and you had to pick another one?  
Grow up.  
I had to pick up my hearts pieces--for falling in love with a drug addict--and now that I have chosen someone else, I am having to learn how to love all over again.
Unwrapping presents is a subculture beneath the societal continuation of "Christmas"
We don't know the true meaning,
All we know is there are gifts involved.
What if you truly sat back and watched everyone else open their presents?
Watch their faces and reactions to something you made instead of something you bought

I surprised him on Christmas Eve.
I made him think I had to work all evening,
Only I pulled in his driveway, called his parents to let them know I made it, and then I asked him to Skype with me via text.
He obliged, and as the camera turned on I saw his eyes twinkle,
You look beautiful
So do you
What are you doing?
Sitting in my car, you?
In a sun room,  waiting for family
Well, could you do me a favor?
Yea,  sure,  what? *
(stepping out of my car)
Could you turn behind you and look out the sun room glass and add one more person that can wait with you?

He rolls his chair around, where I am standing in his backyard facing the sun room,  all dressed up for him.
His eyes water,  and he starts heading out the door towards me
Kat,  I thought you had to work
I had you fooled,  didn't I?
I wanted to surprise you for Christmas
You did Kat

He wraps me in a deep hug,  
Kisses my cheek,
And softly whispers in my ear,
Best. Present. Ever.*
That makes two of us.

Life to me is never about what you get from others but what you give to others.

Tobias.
A handsome, broad-shouldered man with soft earth-brown eyes,  that lived in 18th century England, who then came to America with his mother and father plus his eight brothers.
He would die of fever at the age of 23.
After he died,  he did not move on to the afterlife, instead he was chosen by a group of elders called The Guard.
As a Guardian, he was tasked a keeper of human lives selected  by The Guards' standards as 'changers,' or humans that change the course of history.
Tobias rejected his forced calling and attempted to abandon his task.
The oldest of The Guard, Helten, a man thousands of years old (only looking 40), approached him and asked a simple question, "Why do you want to truly die?"
Tobias was silent,  until Helton added,
"There is a Shift after your changer."
Shifters, or Shifts,  are the enemies of the Guardians and their mission is to destroy all changers so that Shifts can take their place and change the world to their liking.
Tobias added gruffly,  "Which one?"
"Daniel."
Tobias' hand squeezed into a fist. He hated Daniel ever since the 1920's. He wanted a rematch since that idiot tried to **** his charge for a cigarette.
Tobias wanted to punch him.  Hard.
His eyes flashed crimson,  and his fists turned blue flame.
"Where is he?!" Daniel growled.
Helton smirked,
"Pennslyvania."

'Bounce my face off the floor,  maybe then you will recognize me'
Burn my skin so you will remember my scream
Pull my hair to feel colors slide between your fingers
Punch me
Make me feel something
Other than a lie you built during the day
Making people believe you are charming and handsome
When the true you is conniving and distasteful
Your teeth are never white,  
Rotting yellow behind your pale lips
Your hair is thin, and in places on your scalp disappearing
(like I wish I could)
I dream of knocking you down
And breaking your bones harder than you ever snapped mine
And knocking your teeth out
While I pack my bags and watch you bleed on that new tan carpet you just installed
And even adding an extra kick in the head
Just for laughs.
If I am lucky you will be brain dead,
But alive just enough to where you can watch me live my life fully,  loving heartily, And most importantly,
Speak my mind without fear, or your voice replacing mine anymore

I hate my body
I walk five miles with my dog so that I can feel
confident one day,  to walk out in a bikini and NOT have the urge to run and hide.  
To look at myself in the mirror without judging
what needs to be changed
quit telling myself that I have to be in love to be loved
And for once, I could throw on a outfit and not change forty different times
I stretch, walk, push, lift
working on it
So that I can have the courage to take a picture of myself without editing or changing it,  
And actually keeping it
Instead of throwing it away

You ask a question as if you already believe I am guilty.
I would never take something that doesn't belong to me,  and if I did,  I would ASK FIRST.
I especially do not take poetry.
I don't copy anyone else's work or imagination.
We are all family; each of us have a marvelous ability to delve beneath layers of ourselves by writing each section on paper.
Why would I borrow your layers when I have my own?  
Inspiration is not something a thief can steal
There is the ability to grasp what is around you and feel emotions intensely, or you have a mind that moves with waves of thought and logical calculations.
Borrowing someone's poetry and pretending it is yours reminds me of borrowing jewelry from friends.
You make think it makes you look good,  but trust me,  people can tell that it doesn't belong to you