Well, life is a living hell hole filled with nothing but ignorant, belligerent, *** motivated, insecure beings.  Haha.. I haven't been on this site in probably years.. and its been longer since I've posted anything. I miss having some sort of outlet besides my music. I remember, there was comment posted on one of my pieces and this man, a very kind man, complimented me and had said my name was musical.. I remember sitting there, in front of my computer, smiling and repeatedly speaking my name aloud. It sounds like something silly and pity but it meant something to me at the time and on occasion still does. All I have to do is remember that time and I feel warm all over again. I love memories, they're fun. Remembering how you maybe changed someone's mood and made their day better in some way or maybe how your mood was changed and made your ****** day better. I wish I had a little bit of both happening in my life right now. Everything going on just seems so **** negative that it has me in that mind set.. and I HATE IT.. This isn't me, this isn't Jossie..

Growing up, as a ten year old, was nothing new to me, for that’s all I felt I did at the time. I was, and still am, the oldest, but now of 5 and the two after me are now twelve turning thirteen within the next six months. Man, really makes me feel like an old hag… no offense to any elder I don’t literally think you and or any other elder is a so called “hag” its like the saying “old farts” your older but not really old and you don’t… really… well, you know… never mind, anyways, as a child or when I was ten or eleven years old to be exact, I use to have the same dream or more like nightmare every night, for years. It wasn’t something that happened spontaneously, it was every **** night for three maybe four years. And uh, it had its effects on me, for as young as I was I didn’t quite know how to take it other than horrific and again at the time didn’t know how to interpret the dream either. Well, it might sound a little goofy but if you read into it, it’s pretty dark. I remember lying in bed most nights contemplating whether or not to close my eyes, fearful of what came after once the dark curtain fell. On nights that I’d lose my endless battles I’d fall into a world, much like the one you and I live in, but with a twist… go figure. It was kind of trippy, like it was one of those dreams where like you don’t exactly know how and or why you got to the place your at or how and or why things got as bad as they did, you just sort of jumped into it. Which ***** may I add? I remember it was nice and sunny out and at the time my mother and I, along with my little brother David, baby sister Deanna, my step dad, my grandparents and my tia and tio all lived together in the same house… ha don’t hate, us ethnic people… well I don’t know why but that’s just how we do. Anyways the house we lived in was huge and actually really nice for a home being in the area that it was in… 48th and Southern, yup good old border line Tempe and Phoenix. We were all just chilling like on a normal Saturday at the house when we’re all home, some adults sleeping their hangovers away and some of us children playing in the Arizona room and my tio trying to, simultaneously, watch all of the ESPN programs all at once, you know normal stuff. There I am having a grand old time, when I suddenly get this off, cold, abnormal feeling of just somebody watching me with eyes that are filled with just pure evil. I sit frozen on the floor waiting for what’s to come next; everything around me is bright and sunny, warm and cozy then all of a sudden it warps and I see it before me just leaving… everything then feels dark and hopeless, cold and frightening. My brother is no longer sitting next to me on the floor and I no longer hear the TV screaming penalties on the previous play, the once simmering rice now smells burnt to a crisp and all curtains are now closed. I try to get up in a hurry to run to the door to see where everyone has gone, but time and space is not of existence, as I am now slowly running through the archway of the kitchen I find that I have again jumped but to another part of the house. I’m now standing at the very end of the hallway in front of the door to my room, I can now see the sunlight again and this time everybody is in their rooms, just sitting there waiting… for something. Suddenly, **** gets weird. All of the pirates from the Disney movie Peter Pan came barging through the front door, making their way down the hall, retrieving my family members as they walked past each room. My mind was quick to react, but again almost paralyzed, I couldn’t move a muscle. I could have sworn I screamed or said something, it just didn’t come out clearly or loud enough or maybe even at all. Before my little eyes I watched as these large, animated men took my family away from me, once they turned their backs to walk out the house, then was I able to run after them, but by the time I reached the door, they were already outside and the door was closing before me. I reached out as far as I could in hopes of maybe opening the door to pull all of them back in or going along with them, but instead helped slam the door shut as I was suddenly ****** or pushed forward by an angry force, with my fists pounding into the door I watched as they chained up my house and mocked me. It was weird, the house was then floating I was just chilling in the sky, the closest thing I could think of relating it to is when Dorothy is caught in a storm. The next few moments are kind of a blur, it slowly goes dark again and as tears roll down my cheeks, leaving a burning trail of confusion and a sense of abandonment, I am pushed back to the end of the hallway, curled up into a ball, with arms wrapped, hugging my knees closer to my chest, feeling helpless. I let out the most painful, gut wrenching sob that turned into a scream releasing every ounce of oxygen my body was capable of holding and back into a whimper once I was able to catch my breath. I then wake up to my mother standing over me shaking me profusely tears ran down my face and as my whimper turned into heavy breathing, I realize I’ve woken up everybody in the house and to see all of their faces, in one room… the same room I myself occupied, turned tears of absolute terror and confusion into immediate tears or relief and happiness.

Love should be enduring, everlasting, forever… love should be shared with the one you want to be with for years and days to come. I think about her. She really ****** me over. I met the ***** and she ended up dropping me, it wasn’t love though that’s for sure. Why would she be the one who comes to mind ? My love for my family and the love I will have with my significant other are two different kinds of love. I will and would do anything for my family because I love them. We ride it out together through thick and thin. I’d **** for my family. I wouldn’t **** for someone I said I “Love” because its based off of emotion. Love for family is different, its deeper than emotions… its Life. The only real love I’ve ever known was the love of family members. I’ve told others I love them. There is my friendly I love you and an even deeper from the bottom of my heart to the depths of my gut I love you. There is also an if something happened to you I’d be torn to shreds for who knows how long I love you. I myself have many different ways of expressing my love and care for others. Love to me is just another four letter word that is overused and underexpressed.  And at times it means… nothing. But form me I grew up with the old expression of … word is bond.

Lies, lies and lies again
From “No I swear, that wasn’t me” to you saying “She’s just a friend”
Your stupid story telling now begins
In my own eyes, your unfaithfulness I can no longer defend

From “No I swear, that wasn’t me” to you saying “She’s just a friend”
I find myself contemplating your game
In my own eyes, your unfaithfulness I can no longer defend
To love you again, I’d fall greatly to shame

I find myself contemplating your game
From mine to yours, words become babble
To love you again, I’d fall greatly to shame
In denial, leaves a sleepless night filled with rebuttal

From mine to yours, words become babble
An endless love, I refuse to begin
In denial, leaves a sleepless night filled with rebuttal
Lies, lies and lies again.

What is time but a simple measure of the present, the now, the happening? What is time, thought is time, thinking is my time, it is now my time to think To think of what? How much time I have to think of how all time can offer me is nothing but straight thought? Straight thought what is straight thought? One thought that simply isn’t a gay one? A gay one... One that is rejected simply because over time it had no choice but to be that exactly do to thinking of who it wanted to be over time as they were left alone to grow. To grow over time, it takes time to grow to become something big, something so big and magnificent everyone looks up to you for you are the only giant of your kind, that is expected to lead to be one who knows all who can handle all that falls from above accept what things are for as they are when they are given when they come they are received that way because they formed that way over time, why change it? Change it, don’t change it, what to do to change or not to change. Change is good, change is happy change is... change is... is life. Life is change. Change is when light turns into the dark and dark into light because the earth rotates the sun sets and rises, why change? And when the clock strikes 9 it has changed because that is what happens over time. What is time, growth is time no, growth is what happens over time. Growth is what becomes when one truly knows oneself and is ready for time to take its toll and change you! You have changed because you were given the time you needed to find who you were deep down, what you stand for … what you wanted to write. Your story, write your story no one else’s, why try to live someone else’s story when we barely have enough time to live our own… story. What is my story? My story is long my story is my life my life is change, my life, my change its my time to start writing my story about how one can change…but when? When will it come when the time is right? When is the time right? I guess only time will tell.

Waking up from another sleepless night, just great!  But this time it was different.  It might not make sense but, this didn’t feel like just any sleepless night.  Something was definitely wrong.  I couldn’t only stay asleep, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  As if I couldn’t get enough oxygen or any at all.  I found myself constantly gasping for air every few seconds as I tossed and turned in bed.  My chest felt tight and heavy, a combination or getting the wind knocked out of me and my heart falling through my ***.  Anyways, that night it felt like breathing right was just not even remotely close to being on my To Do list.  Sunday all day I felt very… emotional.  Like every other 15 year old female, I felt like crying for everything, for no exact reason.
Today wasn’t one of my best, I wanted to curl up into a ball, shove my not so small self into the smallest corner of the world’s darkest room… a room so dark, what I think would be one of my darkest of thoughts would simply be the only light in such a place.  And a place as far away and so far out of this world, the only life there would be is…well there wouldn’t be any.  Well after I somehow managed to pull myself together, after being mobbed by what seemed to be an unnecessary, endless train of emotions, I walk through the disgusting olive, greenish colored door of our apartment.  Making my way to my room, leaving everything in my possession in the door way and not giving two ***** who trips on it, I sat on my bed.  I then realize my mom was home.  At that time of day it’s usually just my siblings and I, and sometimes my dad.  But for my mom to be home before 3 p.m. is unheard of unless someone is dying.  Well come to find out she came back home shortly after arriving at work this morning.  At this point she had us all gathered in the living room, with my dad sitting at her side, on the furthest part of the sectional and us children on the other, curiously watching her struggle to find the words to come next.  Me, being the oldest, I automatically think of all things possible I could have done that may have upset them… but thought twice when I remembered I had an audience sitting next to me. So I couldn’t possibly be elbows deep, this time.  I sat patiently next to my brother as my mom broke news that my grandfather had passed in his sleep early this morning… those next few moments of silent sobbing seemed to be an eternity.  As if I had lived 1,000 long years and it was my time to roll over. I, being the stubborn type, my instincts kick in… I ran out the front door leaving my family behind in their sorrows. I sat outside in the plush green grass, thinking, for that’s all time would give me... thought.  I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t want to believe it, and I wanted it to be some sick twisted prank. I think at that moment I felt as if I would feel relived if someone had only came around the corner saying “Gotchya!”  He wasn’t supposed to go… not yet, he was a fighter… it was supposed to be a fight ‘till the death, just not his… I believed in him I thou- no, I prayed he would make it, once again I was wrong.  
You know how people say they don’t have any regrets what so ever? Well I call *******. There is always that one, just like there is always that one sibling; they know how to just irk the **** out of you, or that one friend that is just a buzz **** to everything like… well, life. Yeah well I have that one, that one regret that I, in reality can’t do jack squat about.  The last time my family and I went down to visit my grandfather in Cali, we were leaving that day, and he had an appointment to see if he was eligible to do chemo, and as I think about it… you’d think they wanted to save a life right?  Anyways, my mom had yelled at me to wake up to go say goodbye to him before he left… I was being a bit selfish and only thought of me being tired and didn’t want to get out of bed, simply because I chose to stay up all hours of the night before to play Call of Duty with my uncle.  When I got up, everyone was crying in the bathroom.  My mom was ****** so was my Tia… that was the last time they got to see him, and I didn’t. All because I didn’t get my lazy *** up… I didn’t get to say goodbye and now, now it’s too late… and every day I hate myself for it.  But then I think to myself, at least I know, deep down, he is at rest, happy, care free…just chillin in paradise.
You know, life is a ***** and it *****, but we all got to live it, right? Many times I don’t want to anymore. I never was a regretful person especially when it came down to paying the consequences. I thank myself every day for putting myself through everything I’ve been through throughout my short 17 years of life, for if I hadn’t had the experience I’d probably be just another sheep talking out of my *** about do’s and don’ts.  But there is not a single day that goes by without remembering his soul. Remembering there is a place I once sat and enjoyed the cold wet grass, felt the warm golden rays of the sun.  The fresh mist in the air from a nearby waterfall, silent yet graceful drops of water.  My senses tampered with the sweet aroma of fresh cut grass and fully bloomed flowers as they lay next to wet engraved concrete.  As I sat there in silence letting time go by, memories became so clear. Remembering what was said, or the voice in which I heard it, brought me peace and clarity.  The passion of a fighter’s heart that only yearned to keep on fighting, taught me strength.  The hopes and dreams for a brighter future seemed to be my focus.  As I sat and embraced my day’s journeys of memoirs brought me to say farewell to my fighter.  As I leaned forward to give a tender kiss, the taste on my lips from the dirt on the stone is a bitter sweet goodbye.  I sit now and think, I must and will not ever forget that place, where I’d rather be, where I’d go and memories of my grandfather became my reality.  This is my one person I’d most want to see now… and forever.

Your home should be a place of peace and quiet a place where you can escape and get things off of your mind, a place where you can just dust everything off your shoulders and when you walk away you’ll know those problems are there to stay, they are in the past and there to stay.
I really don’t know what I am doing here, I still haven’t figured out why I was put here on this earth.  I believe and have always believed that everyone is placed here for a reason, and they all know why they are here but I feel I am the only one who feels that they don’t know why they are here.  For I believe I am alone.
I am told that I don’t have to be alone. It don’t have to be just me against the world. I think I choose to be alone…is this true….? I really dunno I ask myself this question all the time and I really don’t know the answer.  
I cheat myself everyday…I say one thing and I do another or I never do it at all… these days I would just be another hypocrite.  I don’t please anyone at all, I try to do what they say and I want to be glad that I’m doing it for them, but when you are given no respect how do those not giving expect any in return. I shouldn’t be the one who has to pick up all the pieces and try to put them back the way they should be.
You know in all reality I really wish I could do that.  Maybe then do you think they would appreciate me…?  Sometimes I think maybe if I could do all of this my family wouldn’t be so distant, so torn and not even into halves. But into a million tiny pieces.
It huts to see my family members be in hurt themselves.  But in all reality they brought it all unto themselves.  You can’t feel sorry for those who don’t want it or better yet don’t deserve it.