The boy fell asleep again today. As usual, without warning he fell to the floor. When his eyes opened back up, he was hiding in a closet as a train whizzed by just inches away. From below, he was able to see all the way down into the space between two cliffs. It could've startled him, but it didn't.
   When he woke up again, he climbed out of the closet and ran outdoors. He and his brother had both been involved, and as he ran into his father's worried arms he was told this time, it'd been for days. His father picked him up in his arms. As he did, the boy whispered in his ear, "daddy, I'm a girl inside." After a moment's pause, he asked if he still loved him, to which his dad replied "of course I do." The boy fell asleep again.
   This time, he dreamt he was in Salem during the time of the witch trials. In a cabin conference room full of angry women he opened his eyes and instantly knew he was in for trouble. As they began to crowd around, he unintentionally began to float in he air. This time a woman, his levitation brought the shouts from all around, "WITCH! WITCH! BURN HER AT THE STAKE!" Luckily, he awoke just in time.
   Each time he goes out, he asks how long it was for. Usually it's only a few minutes, maybe an hour or so. But sometimes, it's for days and these times are the worst. The longer, the scarier. The more he misses.
   The last time he went out, he was on an all- girl's bus and one of the girls in-particular showed interest in him. She has very short blonde hair and dressed in all black. She scared him because she was so quiet and frightened everyone else. Someone had told him she'd once nearly drowned and when she came back up, she was so brain-dead she was practically a vegetable. He didn't know if all the was true, but she just sat there, quietly and looked at him most days.
   Their bus was taking a trip through the mountains and at times it was scary. They were so very high up and there were places they could fall hundreds of feet to their deaths. Every so often, the girl would look over and look anxiously at him. This made him so nervous he tried to get as far away from her as he could. But, no matter how far away, there she always was. The trip seemed to last for days until finally they arrived. At that very instant, the boy woke up with a shock. He didn't recognize a thing but his family on the couch. When he asked how long he was out, his mother hesitated a moment before saying softly and nervously, "you're 18 now..." When the boy last woke he was 12, and this revelation terrified him. "Why, I may have less than 100 waking moments left in my life!" The fact that he could go out whenever, without warning scared him most. He, like the ******* the bus lived his life as a ghost. But his situation was in a way not much different than all of ours. We never know when we may go. Life is but a dream.

This year, our first year of being engaged. We drank some, we laughed some, But mostly we worked hard. The ball dropped, we kissed and began our last year together before we're to be married. We were only engaged starting November in this, so the excitement is still fresh!

I often find it puzzling when my 28-year-old sister displays her total lack of adult feeling. In her adult years she never has shown an ability to feel what my parents were feeling as they took care of her 100% financially.
    She was mentally ill from a very young age, a spectacle for the neighborhood kids to see as she took the smallest things to heart and didn't care much for friends to play with. Once old enough to have a job, she had no interest in having a job. And not in the usual immature teen kind of way, but a more deeply-rooted, adult fear of work and adult responsibility type of way.
    Now 28, still living at home and jobless she attends the local community college where she is afraid to check her grades because having no job or responsibilities does not allot her the ability to firmly grasp all A's. I was not always so highly critical of her. To the contrary, my whole family was made to think she was some mysterious *** of gold we all had to treat as if there was nothing peculiar and all her outlandish antics were okay.
   Indeed, I'd have no problem with her if she could only hold a ******* job, or do like I am and get on FAFSA and find a loving, kind-hearted man to support her while she goes to school. A man for whom she'll clean up after, do his ***** laundry and fulfill all domestic obligations in-part or entirely until she graduates an honors student and finds a career she can be proud of. But no, instead she found an abusive boyfriend who was himself mentally Ill, as arguably anyone would have to be to want to get with her, and after a fight she broke her cello and now my parents are paying for it. My dad, who has been for several years saving up for something nice for himself, who is now committed to paying for my wedding, who has been ignoring my emails inquiring about money to start buying little reception things, willingly or unwillingly. My mother, who barely makes anything as a public school teacher. Who both help support my uncle who is also living there now.
   *******, the hardship of my mental life has been to be angry at these people, the sweetest of the sweet for continually allowing her to suckle their metaphorical ***** for 10 years too long. The enabling has put me into a mental twist and I have become obsessed with it because I was down in it for so long. I guess all families have that one person, but few too my personal knowledge have one like this. Sometimes, I wish one of her suicide attempts had been successful, but then my parents would be enthralled in pain and anguish for something that may have been different, but probably never will. It is just like how it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. If she'd never been born, maybe they'd been happier. Or maybe she'd have been born a different person. But now they have her, and they can't go back.
   She'll probably wind up homeless once my parents are gone. We've both agreed we can't take her on...
   This all might make me seem like the bad guy, but you wouldn't know unless you spent a day in the life.

One woman's unfaithfulness can be another woman's wedded bliss. I'm living proof of this.

There's a cat in the rafters. I really want to get him out. I heard a meow from the closet and it wasn't one of mine. I am entirely compelled to draw him down, as I can hear the commotion from the aluminum vents, but I know it would only cause disturbance to our own  two pets.
    This is really killing me, like a dog watching a squirrel from under a tree, I have never passed up a chance to grab a cat, like a gambler who's never passed up a bet. I could easily get him down, cats come to me. I could lure him with the birdie and drive him to the SPCA where he'd find himself a cozy, insulated lock slot for the night. But, on the other hand there may be some poor boy or girl attempting to coax their precious pet as I was not too long ago.
    There, I've put in my ear plugs and made sure the closet door is shut. I sure hope the poor, little feller finds his way out!

As we live our lives, often we must decide what is wrong and what is right. Often as I try to label and compartmentalize I find myself suspended in midair in the gray.
   When I go to strip clubs and I try to enjoy myself, I take in all the intense sexuality. I find myself wondering is this right or is this wrong? It's definite defeat of a patriarchal society in which these women are free to make commerce as they please, owing no one but the owner of the joint. But is it really right that this is the only way to make the hundreds of dollars a night? Again, I find myself suspended in midair, my eyesight affixed upon this beautiful body gliding down a pole suspended in midair in the gray.
   When I think about the world and all the tragedy that comes from every sight we see, the news giving us news about how we're all incomplete and the only remedy is to buy their next big thing and how we all must pay attention to the gas that fills our tanks. But the gas really is destroying our environment, not in itself but in its misuse. And in everything we're sold we're all a part of this abuse. It's a never ending cycle but what are we really to do? Once again, we all have found ourselves suspended in midair; we can't seem to escape from the gray.

When you get what you want, it's not always so sweet. When you've been waiting on it forever and it feels like you must compete. After awhile, it gets old and your efforts begin to wane. Before too long, indifference takes over and you can't distinguish apathy from pain. I, too once felt the wait extenuated and it hurt because I didn't know why. It took 5 1/2 years for my first installment of my "Special Day" to arrive. Take heed, young maiden for once it happens, it won't  come yet again. Once he takes that knee, if you don't agree your fair fellow's love may end. But, if you're anything like me and you'd been waiting for a long time, when the ring comes out and you sense a hint of trickery, don't doubt. For sometimes, you do indeed get what you want and all is well. Ah, sweet love! It could be heaven, or it could be hell!