Some days, I just want to be blind. Blind to the world. To the crimes, to the kinds of people that exist.


If I was blind, I wouldn't have to spend all the time trying to decipher how someone could be so cruel. How they could think it would be so cool to shoot up a school.


February 14th is a holiday, is Valentine's Day. A day of love, not hate, and should not act as the day of a shooting. Is a day where seventeen lives were lost as a result of a guy who felt a little lost. A man who needed to move on.


Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. A safe place where people go to learn without concern of dying. On Valentine's day, seventeen lives are gone as everything that should have gone right had gone wrong. I mean, come on, why is it seen as an event that everyone saw, but cannot correct? Is there a vet for people who act like dogs?


Some days, I just want to be blind. Some days, I look out of my window and see trees blowing in the breeze, and it used to put me at ease,  but those old opportunities have been seized.


Fire. Burning. Horror. Forest fires in national parks. Places were bark used to decorate trees, little did everyone one know, this was a slowly killing disease.


We didn't have time to grovel, never mind write a novel. It's too bad you have to pick up the remains out of the rubble. In the background, I mumble, “wasn’t there supposed to be no casualties?” I mean can anyone sneeze without having to bend at the knees to the ultimate destroyer. Surprise. Surprise. Don't catch flies because you didn't open your eyes and realize that there is no easy end to all of these crimes.


Some days, I just want to be blind. Blind to everything. Blind to kids my own age. From the gentle voices to the ones filled with rage.


Walking toward a Target exit and seeing a wall of missing children, half of them probably screamin’ looking for their parents, scared and searching for some flair, of hope.


Most of them most likely thought that it could never happen to them, but here they are sitting in the middle of a stranger’s den. Scared and alone. Wondering when, or if there’s is a time that they will get to go home.


You know, the funny thing is that though it might be a stranger. You might not even think that they can pose a threat, let alone danger. Think about it, your kidnapper could be a lady, old and sweet, or so you think before she starts look a little less fragile and meek. And this makes you feel weak, well this will teach you not to go to the store to buy something as simple as meat.

What if there were toxins that fill the air,
And all us people do is roam around without a single care,
Until one day,
That someone finds a way to say
"Hey, this isn't fair,"

It pained me to see
her fluorescent gems becoming
nothing more than smoldering embers.

The fire once lighting them,
extinguished.

Hello Guy Whose Name I Don't Know,

Cuteness is not all look for in a guy, but if you're hot, it's not like I'd die. You HAVE to be sweet, or honestly, you're like hot chocolate in sweltering heat.

There is probably a reason that you don't really exist, whether it be because you seemed as appealing as a fist, or we were just an opportunity missed. It could also be the fact the my standards are pretty high, probably because I'm looking for that one special guy.

You know crush, even though you're imaginary, the idea of you not liking me is kinda scary. You know, rejection is real, and if you hated me, that's probably how I'd feel.

You won't be my first crush, but liking a guy like you would be a rush. A guy so perfect and great, I hope you come along before it's way too late.

It's kinda funny, though you're fake, I can picture as clearly as a calm lake. You have blue eyes as bright as clear skies. Your hair not long nor short, perfect length to play a sport. It's probably colored brown, and also lays down.

You give the best hugs, full of something like love. You're kinda tall, and not so clumsy that you'll fall. You're protective of me, and at the first sign of trouble, you're not going to flee.

Notice how my crush seemed to turn into something that is more lush. You see I don't want a heartless guy, I want someone not afraid to try. To try and be my friend no matter how our relationship will end.

Hello Guy Whose Name I Don't Know, I've kinda learned to go with the flow. So, if there turns out to be a guy I really like, a guy who comes at the right time. I will take my chances, even if he isn't someone who dances. Even if he isn't exactly like you, I think love for me is overdue.

And even though you might not be real, this open letter has shown you how I feel. But, I am in no way in a rush, and this is why I have made an Open Letter To My Ideal Crush.

The thought of sacrifice brings to mind
Rotting human bodies
In the underground’s fiery pits

Thoughts of a punishment so severe
That the only fitting title for it
Is sacrifice

I think of backstabbing and betrayal
That will result in pain and beyond distrust

When you hear of sacrifice you think dark and deep.

This is the scene I imagine:

When I look back all I feel is regret.

Just one unspoken word is all it took to
Bring these chains to my very arms and legs

Just one unspoken word is all it took to
Bring me this unbearable torture

Seeing the red rivers fall down my arms,
I think of the rivers my friends cried.

The grimy floor
Seemingly something out of a movie
A mock reality
But this is some much more real
Something much more scary

Who would’ve known sacrifice would be this hard?

"I wish," are the two words spoken under one’s breath. These two words are all it takes to summon me.

Some call me a monster, while some only call me reality. I am the monster living not under your bed, but in your head and in your heart. When my name is called out, no one cowers away, for they all know that in some way, shape, or form, they harbor me inside of themselves.

Out of a mouth etched in pain I hear the soft whisper of two words. "I wish," the voice thick with misery and pain. With those two words,  I find myself behind the hunched shoulder of my summoner, assessing her situation.

She looks just like any other from the outside. A petite , and young female, only a girl.  Her stance makes it obvious that she is, drowning in her own despair, wishing that she wasn't as she is. Wishing she was smaller or taller or cuter.

In the back of my mind, something tells me that she is different from the rest. For some reason, I know that this girl will have a lasting impact on me. For some reason, I forget not to care, and this betrays my evil character.

My head tells me to comfort her. To tell her that her body only gives her more for her soulmate to love. That her height only makes her the perfect height for him to hold. Tell her that she is beautiful no matter her flaws, because they make her unique.

Still no matter my strong will for her to believe, she screams out, howls. "WHY AM I ME? WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME?" the end of her question coming out wobbling and begging, her genuine question seems to break off a layer of my heart.

As she takes the razor blade across her criss-crossed arm yet again, a river of blood runs down the length of her arm in a bumpy trail. This river being not smooth or clear, but filled with not only the things that make up blood, but also all of her anger, her pain, her defeatedness.

After years of doing this job, this one girl is able to make me empathize with her with just the slight of her wrist. Immediately, I try to help her.

"Stop Caroline," I cry out to her, hoping it will be enough to stop her destruction. As if she doesn't hear me, she continues to carve yet again. This time, her breathing becoming more shallow.

"STOP," I yell loud enough to make my vocal cords hurt. Yet, she doesn't hear me, and that is evident by her slowly closing eyes and her non-existent breathing.

Noting that she's dead, I break down. I'm left thinking only two words. Ones I never thought I'd think. I wish...