Paper Lights

Paper Lights

There was this place hidden deep within the forest, it was an abandoned cottage. When they first stumbled across it they laughed about how it may be haunted. However, when they walked through its arched doorway they felt at home. In the middle of the floor there lay an old antique rug, now layered with dust. On the fireplace were a few left over knick knacks and the very atmosphere of the cottage created a sense of comfort. They decided this would be their place!
***
Every chance they got they would meet at the cottage. Allison would bring decorations and Eric would bring tools to help spruce up the place. They could not light the fireplace so instead Allison would light candles within paper bags. Sometimes they would stay out there until the early morning just relishing in one another. Their favorite part of the cottage was the upstairs loft. There was just enough room for a few pillows, a blanket, and their bodies wrapped around one another. That is where they first uttered the words I love, it was where they decided to make love for the first time and eventually the place they would say goodbye.
In a few weeks Allison would be moving away. Her parents had decided to move to California some 2,600 miles away from the cottage, the place they'd come to call home. Both of them lay heartbroken in the loft that night. Silent tears streamed down their faces. Eric whispered a broken sob "we were suppose to be forever". In that moment Allison reached for the razor blade in Eric's toolbox. In the wood surrounding the loft's window she wrote.

"Forever; as the words etched in this grain
So should our love remain
And though by miles we separate
We shall be together again some day

Love is not for the weak, but those who fight
Do not fear for I will return to ignite
When the stars are out and they sky night
Here is where I will burn a paper light"

***
It had been 737 days since Allison left North Carolina but still every night Eric walked the scattered path to their cottage. Many times he thought he might give up but something always dragged  him out into the wood. He missed her, as if a piece of him had been ripped off. If only he could hear her voice he thought. Though he knew that once he heard that sweet musical tone of hers he'd only long for her more. Sometimes he thought he might hop on a plane and go search for her down the crowded roads of San Francisco, but her parents hated him. An Indian girl, especially their Indian girl would not love a white boy.
***'
On day 742 he drifted through the woods slowly. In the sky he saw a brewing storm and nearly turned back, but alas he kept moving toward the cottage. He thought of the words etched in the wood; forever their love would remain. He believed in those words with all his soul. As the rain began pouring down he picked up his pace. He was almost to the cottage when he saw something -- something flickering in the distance. He started running, racing for his life. When he came upon the cottage he stopped. Rain pelted the ground around him and he could not tell the difference between it and his tears. There in the loft window it was shining! What he longed for every day for over two years. Yes there in that window was a symbol of hope in the form of a paper light!

-MAGGIE V.

"Losing Sight"

"Losing Sight"

~A Short Story~

I loved everything about her. I loved the way she ordered the same black coffee every morning except on Fridays, because Fridays she said “should have a little oomph.” I loved the way she sang in the car on long drives. I loved the way she looked off to the side when she giggled because she was a little shy. I loved that girl. Every single thing about her and yet I let her slip away. I let her drift off to find someone else. I would give anything to hear her sing again or make her laugh but I would never get those things. I knew deep in my soul that I’d be forced to wander Earth for the rest of my days as a lost man, a broken man.

The first day I met her it was at the coffee shop on the corner of 5^th street. She was bouncing her hips to the tune of Coltrane playing throughout the café.  I had an urge to touch her hair that curled to the middle of her back. Those reddish brown curls looked unbelievably soft. There were two other men in between us both staring at her ass. Though who was I to judge that’s where my eyes kept travelling as well. When it was her turn to order she bounced up to the corner ordering her tall black coffee and chit chatting with the barista as if she were a friend. The barista handed her the coffee and when she turned to leave I was frozen. Bright coral blue eyes shone at me for just a second as she flashed a brilliant smile. Then she was out the door, gliding down the sidewalk.

“Sir are you going to order?” I heard the barista’s voice behind me. I must have been staring at the corner she disappeared around for a while because the two men in front of me had already ordered.

“Yes a macchiato please no cream.” I said embarrassed.

The barista handed me my drink and I turned to leave.

“She comes in every morning by the way.” I heard the barista again.

“Excuse me?” I asked

“The woman you were staring after, she comes in every morning.” She repeated.

I gave the barista a soft smile of thanks. I left knowing that I would come to this coffee shop every day until I got the nerve to speak to her. I got the nerve three days later and asked her out. I was lucky enough to spend the next six months with her. I fell head over heels in love. I wanted to know everything about her, all of her passions and obsessions. I learned what she loved and made it my mission to make every day special, at least for the first month or so.

She was vibrant and full of life and I felt as if I couldn’t go a day without seeing her. I would bring her flowers to work, take her to her favorite museum, and cook her favorite meals. I did everything I could think of to make her love me the way I loved her and it worked. After a month of blissful dating she told me she loved me. I felt like the happiest man in the world. For the next month we spent every waking moment together, making love under the stars, in the park, wherever we could really. We took a trip to Colorado and I taught her how to ski, she learned to make my favorite dessert and perfected the recipe. We were in love and something in the back of my head told me I no longer had to worry, this girl was mine.  

I could sit here and make excuses for what happened over the next four months but the truth of it is that I got lazy. Here I had chased after this beautiful enigmatic woman but once the mystery was solved on my part I stopped chasing. I should have never chased her to begin with she wasn’t some animal to be hunted, no she was an art piece to be admired and treasured. Over the next four months she continued learning everything she could about me, and did her absolute best to make sure I smiled at least once a day. She overwhelmed me with love, spoiling me, taking care of me, encouraging me and I reveled in it. I loved her but I was too lazy to show her how much I loved her.

I stopped bringing her flowers, I stopped taking her to the places she loved, and I stopped cooking. I just kept telling myself she loves me and that’s all that matters. But love is not just a feeling it is a continuous action that we display in many different ways. I did not understand that concept until the day my love walked out the front door. We had been arguing about doing more as a couple, growing together, and compromising. I was content to do things my way and she wanted me to put more effort into doing things our way. That was the worst part. She was never selfish throughout the whole process, she only wanted things to be better for us. It was never about just her, it was always about us.

The day she left we’d started arguing again. She woke up that day threw on a pretty pale pink dress, did her hair the way I liked and declared we’d being going out on the town for the day. I told her that I’d gotten us tickets to the baseball game and that she’d probably want to change out of her dress into something more casual. She looked so put down in that moment as if she were defeated. I remember thinking why does she look so sad I love baseball. She started to tell me how she felt our relationship was one sided that she felt like she was just a piece in my story instead of us making our own story. I of course belittled her response and told her not to be so emotional. She walked up stairs and I assumed she’d be changing to go to the game but when she came back down she was still in that pale pink dress with her brown leather luggage bag in her hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked shocked

“I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore, I love you with all my heart and I would do anything to keep this relationship strong and beautiful but it doesn’t just take one person.” She said a single tear streaming down her face

“Well I’m here aren’t I? I’m a part of this relationship I can’t believe you would just leave all because I want to go to the baseball game.” I said getting angry.

“I’m not leaving because of the baseball game, I’m leaving because you’re content with “I” and I need an “Us”.” She said as she walked past me and through the door.

I was so angry with her still convinced that she left because of a baseball game. I called a friend offered him the other ticket calling her a selfish bitch and went to the game anyways. It was there at the game in about the 6^th inning that I realized what she meant. Over the last four months I couldn’t remember a time that I’d asked what she wanted to do or done anything for just the joy of seeing her smile. I had chased her and gotten her to fall in love with me and then I gave up. I gave up on seeing her smile as she looked at one of her favorite paintings, I gave up on seeing her eyes light up at the sight of a new book I’d bought her, I gave up on showing her I loved her and in turn gave up on us.

I still went to the same coffee shop everyday but she never showed. Then a few weeks ago I was walking down Main St on my way to a meeting when I saw familiar curls through a coffee shop window. She was standing in line waiting to order her black coffee with a pump of caramel because today was Friday. She looked hauntingly beautiful and for a moment I thought I’d go in but then I saw a man walk up next to her and put his arm around her waist. After all it had been several months and I never tried calling. She looked happy. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I thought I loved that girl. I loved everything about her.

 

-Maggie V.

Depression

DEPRESSION

~Let’s Talk About It~

Depression. The moment you read that word you instinctively flinch. The word itself elicits the feeling it defines. Sadness but not just any sadness, overwhelming sometimes incontrollable sadness. Approximately 350,000,000 people are affected by some form of depression globally. That is a lot of people that are affected by a disease that we are often times scared to talk about. So why are we so put off by the very mentioning of the word?

On a societal level depression is unacceptable. When someone says they are depressed an image immediately pops into our heads. That image is of a boy/girl in a black moping around whining about their terrible life, this image is also completely false 9/10. Reality tells us that depression affects everyone. Whether it’s the star athlete on the high school basketball team or the neighborhood soccer mom, depression does not discriminate and that is something we as a society have to learn.  We don’t want to hear our loved ones tell us that they have depression, and we don’t want to talk about it. But why? Why is it so unacceptable to hear that our loved ones are struggling with something much bigger than them? Why are we so quick to throw that word out the window and ignore those who claim to suffer from it? Because as a society we are told to be strong and happy. We are constantly hearing quotes like “happiness is a choice” or “you control how you feel”. What if that isn’t always true? What if we were being suffocated by feelings that we had absolutely no control over?

Did you know that nearly 30% of college students admit to feeling depressed? College students! These are the guys who are supposed to be having the times of their lives and yet 30% of them feel trapped and alone. Most parents don’t talk about how the pressures of the world can affect our life, we don’t warn our kids about the unforeseen realities that sometimes life hits us in the face with and that needs to change. We need to start teaching our children that sometimes you can’t get everything right, sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you plan and that it’s okay. See we are so caught up in being positive and pushing our children to believe in themselves that we forget to mention that sometimes it doesn’t work out. I’m not saying that we should fill our children’s heads with negativity or be any less encouraging but we also need to prepare them for when life doesn’t pan out the way they thought it would. False hope leads to no hope. The next step we need to take is talking about when life does throw a curve ball that it’s okay to feel upset. Those feelings of darkness, and loneliness they’re okay to have. But we need to talk about them in order to work through them!

11% of adolescents have been diagnosed with depression disorder before turning 18! 11% may not seem like a large number but in the bigger picture its huge because how many kids do you think suffer in silence? In our society we are very quick to judge one another and push unrealistic expectations on one another, especially in this internet driven era. With sites like Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter being platforms for portraying a life that hundreds of other people “see” we sometimes get lost in who we are on the internet and who we really are. Kids are so worried about being accepted and liked that they create personas to please those around them. They are so afraid to be themselves because being yourself isn’t good enough anymore. Especially if yourself means being depressed. Young children who exhibit signs of depression are ostracized which is why so many suffer in silence. They fear being isolated when in reality they’re more alone than ever by not accepting themselves.

As a society we need to stop being put off by the word depression. We need to stop setting unrealistic expectations of who young men and women should be and we need to talk. We need to talk to our children, talk to our friends, and talk to our students. Depression. See I say that word and I don’t flinch. I say that word and I feel relieved that I can say it and tell you I have it and not be ashamed. I say that word knowing that there are 350,000,000 people suffering from it right now and they too should not be ashamed. I hope to see the world become more accepting of this disease that tears lives apart from the inside. I hope to see those who suffer from it start reaching out and I hope to see those who are reached out to accept their loved ones for who they are.

Depression – talk about it.

 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/01/20/depression-statistics_n_6480412.html

Woman Writer Crush Wednesday!

Woman Writer Crush Wednesday!

 

Emily Dickinson - you've all heard the name and probably read a few of her works in your High School English class. Maybe you thought her morbid, maybe you didn't think much about her at all but Emily Dickinson was an extremely important figure in Literature especially for women.

 

Dickinson happens to be one of my favorite poets behind the likes of Poe if simply because I too am obsessed with death and tragedy in my writing. There is something that always fascinated me about Emily's writing - often times there was an undertone of humor or sarcasm in her writing. In a lot of her poetry there are undertones about humanity's vanity. Her sarcasm is usually unnoticed as most people reflect on the dark imagery of her prose. However, understanding that she had a sense of humor is very important to her work. Women were not thought to be funny or to have substantial opinions back in her day and age. The fact that her poetry is riddled with both humor and opinions is extremely vital to the history of women in Literature.

 

I loved reading Emily's work for several reasons. First of it was spoken truly, she was never afraid to give a heavy dose of reality to those who read her work. It came from the depths of her soul - she talked about her biggest fears, her hopes, and the things she held dearest. It is work that anyone and everyone can relate to. Though most often than not people peg Dickinson as a morbid poet who they cannot understand, that was not the only theme in her work. Love of nature, spirituality and hope are themes within her work as well. The fact that she not only wrote about the positives in life but also the morbid negatives makes her so relatable. She was not one-sided. She was not happy go lucky all the time. She had good days and bad days, and she saw the world as it was yet analyzed the way she wanted it to be.

 

She was a true artist who poured her soul into her work. I only hope that someday I inspire a young mind the way she inspired mine. If you haven't explored her work before or outside of a classroom setting I encourage you to do. She had a lot more to offer to the world of poetry than just some morbid ideas on death. TRUST ME.

 

-Maggie V.

 

Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.


I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.



Black Water - Part One

Black Water

Part One

 

I was drowning in black water and didn’t even realize that he was the ocean.

 

“Have you ever been with someone who makes your soul ache and your body come alive? Someone who you obsessively love and they love you back the same. That was the kind of love I had for Scott. That was the love I’d been searching for since I read Wuthering Heights in 7^th grade. A love so crazy so mad that it overtakes you and reshapes your soul into one. That was the kind of love I could believe in, the kind I would never give up on. Scott was my Heathcliffe and I knew it from the moment he first spoke.”

 

“The bear and the bull.” I heard a voice behind my ear.

“What?” I answered turning around to the dark haired boy seated behind me. Then I heard Mrs. Willis say my name.

“What are the two animals that represent the stock market?” she asked her face reddened.  I cleared my throat and answered “The bear and the bull.”

She seemed upset that I’d answered correctly. I had been reading To Kill A Mockingbird and she thought she’d catch me off guard. I turned around to the dark haired boy and politely responded “thanks but I don’t need you to feed me answers, I knew it already.”

His eyes danced with amusement as he leaned in and said “I know you did.”

My whole face immediately flushed with red. His eyes completely threw me off guard. They were so dark, nearly black and I got lost in them for a moment.

“I just wanted to see if I could break your concentration.” He continued.

“Well don’t.” I responded harshly. I didn’t like the way his eyes made me feel or that he’d interrupted my reading for amusement.

I continued reading for the remainder of class though I didn’t focus on the words of the book. I kept feeling the dark haired boy’s eyes on my back. I couldn’t wait for the bell to ring, and just as the thought entered my mind my wish came true. I bolted from my seat and was out the door in a flash running straight into Andrew.

“Hey babe.” He greeted me planting a kiss on my cheek. “Let me take these books.”

Andrew was my boyfriend and my professional book carrier. I didn’t understand why boys carried their girlfriend’s books but Andrew never let me carry mine. He was like that though, always following those ridiculous guidelines on what a boyfriend should do. He was a sweet guy and the book carrying thing stopped getting on my nerves two years ago.

“What’s this, another book from your smarty pants English class?” Andrew asked looking down at my very used copy of To Kill A Mockingbird.

“No just something I’m reading in my spare time.” I said nervously because the dark haired boy was walking right in front of us now.

“I never did understand you reading for fun. I don’t know why anyone would choose reading as a fun thing to do in their spare time.” He responded and I heard the dark haired boy laugh.

He turned around smirking at me with those dark eyes. Those damn eyes. Then he winked and turned down a separate hallway.

We finally reached my classroom and I was relieved to both be away from Andrew and the eyes of the dark haired boy. Andrew may have been my boyfriend but he was really just a shield; my shield from any other suitors that may have come along the way. He was a basketball player, with good hair and good skin and the right kind of fake persona to please my parents. He was also dumb and a cheater. He didn’t think I knew that he cheated but then again he didn’t know that I was using him either. I didn’t want to date anyone really but my parents wanted me to date. So in order to please them I found a simple guy with a simple mind who wouldn’t get on my nerves too badly.

I found my desk and sat down to resume reading. I read in every class but English class. In English class we discussed every topic under the sun and Mr. Newsome had such a passion for life and culture that I had to listen. However, this was algebra and I would do anything but algebra. I started in on my book when Mr. Daniels my algebra teacher picked up the class phone and told me I was being called to the front office. Everyone in the class room “ooooohed” and I thought to myself graduation can’t come soon enough. I left the classroom not sure why I was being called to the front but also not caring.

When I reached the front office I was told that my Uncle Tom Robinson had checked me out and he was waiting outside. Of course this was a character in the book I was reading and I had no uncle who was waiting for me outside. However, I was intrigued by who might be outside. I walked outside and saw a cream colored corolla with the passenger door open. Inside sat the black haired boy. He looked at me with those black onyx eyes and said “Get in.”

I stepped backward. He was crazy I thought and then I told him so. “You’re crazy, I don’t even know you.” And I turned to walk away.

“Oh come on where’s your sense of adventure. I know you have one, I’m not a rapist hence the Tom Robinson.” He said with a sparkle in his eye.

I don’t know what came over me at that moment but I felt my body move toward the car and then I was strapping myself in. When I got in I heard Band of Horses playing which happened to be one of my favorite bands. For a minute we sat in silence and then he started singing along to the song. His voice was like caramel soft and flowing perfectly. He sang better than Ben Bridell and before I knew it I was singing with the dark haired boy. Then all at once it hit me, I’m singing in a car with a boy whose name I don’t even know. What the fuck was I doing?

“Uhm excuse me what’s your name?” I asked turning the music down.

“Scott, and you’re Elizabeth.” He answered.

“How do you know my name?”

“Well let’s see we have two classes together Lizzie.” He replied laughing to himself

“Do not call me Lizzie and oh that makes sense.”

“So Lizzie, you like books right? I see you reading a new one every other day. So you must like to read.”

“Yes I like to read Scotty.” I replied squinting at him angrily.

“Well I’m glad cause you’re going to love where we are going.”

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked

“You’ll see don’t worry, just sit back and enjoy the ride and the music.”

Unbelievably I did exactly what he said I sat back and enjoyed myself. His mix CD played a variety of music that I loved. From MGMT, Vampire Weekend to Fuel and Counting Crows. I sang every single song that played and felt so relaxed. Scott sang with me and every now and then he would just look over at me and smile. I took notice of him more in that moment. His hair was thick and black as night, he had beautiful tan skin that I’m sure would be soft if I reached out and touched him. His scruffy beard made him look like a hipster that and the fact that he was wearing a cardigan. However it was his eyes that intrigued me the most. They were so black and yet they had brightness to them.

“Alright get ready to scream.” He said as he pulled into a parking lot that housed an old building.

“What the hell is this place.” I said completely unsure of what I was doing. Here I was with a boy I barely knew and he’d taken me an hour away from home to a building that looked like it might collapse at any moment.

“You’re going to love it trust me.” He said getting out of the car. He came over to my door where I was sitting with my arms crossed over my chest like a child. I was not getting out of the car.

“Come on Lizzie, I promise once you see the inside it will completely change your mind. Remember don’t judge a book by its cover.” He said opening my door and grabbing my hand to pull me out. I was right his skin was soft, very soft.

I slowly gave in to his pulling and got out of the car and for a moment he continued to hold my hand. Then he turned and started for the brown door that led into what I was sure was going to be my death. When we walked inside I made an audible gasping sound. It was unbelievable there were books from the floor to the ceiling. You could barely walk around there were so many books. I started looking at the titles and realized there was everything from Hemingway to Koontz to John Green. Everywhere I turned there were more shelves, tables, and piles of books. I was in heaven complete heaven.

“Told you.” Scott said as he disappeared behind a shelf of books.

I followed him around the corner and watched as he scanned through the books trying to find one that he wanted. He looked so perfect right there, at peace. He grabbed a book and brought it over to where I was standing.

“Here this is one of my favorites and I think you’d really enjoy it.” He said as he handed me my favorite book.

“Yeah I like this one too. I’ve read it several times.” I replied as I traced the title with my fingers and then handed it back to him. All of the sudden I felt very uncomfortable and my stomach ached.  Just then Scott reached out for my hand and the aching got more intense.

“Come on let’s find you a book to take home.” He said and pulled me along. I followed him again and I had the strange notion that I’d follow him anywhere.

JUST STOP

In light of the Freddie Gray case a lot of people have been expressing their opinions. So often those opinions are filled with hate. What has happened in this country over the last year is painful to watch.
I keep hearing a lot of people say that these boys got what they deserved because they were criminals. Let me tell you something no one has the right to choose who lives and dies based on their actions except a court of law. NO ONE. Murder is still murder even if you're murdering a boy who sold drugs. I do not care if you're a police officer, a pastor, an army vet, or just a guy off the street you do not have the right to choose who lives and dies.

Now lets take a moment and consider these boys actions. Yes Freddie Gray had a rap sheet, yes he was involved in some terrible things and yes those were his choices. We all make choices and we should all be held accountable for those choices. Freddie Gray should have gone to jail and served time for his wrong doings he should not have been killed. He was killed out of hatred by officers who thought they were above the law. He was killed by officers who maybe were angry because he smarted off or wasn't cooperating or maybe they just didn't like him and for that they should be held accountable for their choices. The chose to let a man die in their custody.



"Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate only love can do that."

 

 

Now lets take a look at the other side. To those of you who say all cops deserve to die or fuck the police. I say to you the same thing - STOP! Yes there is a problem with our justice system and there is a problem with police officers thinking they have the right to do things that are against the law they've sworn to protect. But do you really believe that all police men are bad? or racist? I know cops who are cops because they wanted to have power over people and that is wrong. However I also know cops who became cops because they want to protect people.

 

If we want to make a difference we need to stop throwing bricks at police officers, burning buildings and cars and start fighting for change. We need to ask our government to make the rules and regulations for police officers more strict, we need to ask them to make the testing to become a police officer more strenuous. And we also need to appreciate the force when they do something good. I've spoken with a lot of cops who are good men/women and they say they just want to be appreciated for putting their lives on the line.

 

We have to stop letting the media run the show. They would have you believe that every cop is racist and every black man is a thug. When will we stop labeling ourselves and our society and start working as individuals? We need to work together to better our communities. You want to be angry about something? Be angry that our government doesn't spend enough on public education and makes college nearly impossible to afford for any student not in the upper class. Be angry that our children are living in poverty ridden neighborhoods where they feel their only way of survival is selling drugs on a corner.

The media is so worried about how Jennifer Aniston keeps up her shape and showing the most dramatic scenes just so they can sell papers. They don't care about showing the real stories or helping people make a difference so we have to start doing it on our own. We have to stop the hate! We have to join together to break down these labels. Our race is only a part of who we are and we need to stop letting people make it who we are! Black, white, male, female, gay, straight those labels don't decide who we will be and we need to stop letting them!

So let's stand together for everyone's rights. Let's stand together and show them that we will not be labeled. We will not let hatred destroy us. We will change the views of the world. We will stop letting the media control our opinions and how we are viewed. As women, as men, as police officers, as parents, as protesters, as PEOPLE!

-Much Love,

Maggie V.



D.R.E.A.M

Dream

 

"Hold fast to dreams

for if dreams die,

life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly."

-Langston Hughes

 

 

 



 

Most of begin dreaming when we are just children. We begin to dream about being doctors, firefighters, and astronauts. As children we often aspire to be what are heroes are and there is something beautiful about that sentiment. Children see the black and white version of life, things are either good or bad there isn't much gray area in a child's decisions. Children look up at their heroes and they see something in them that drives themselves to dream. My hero when I was growing up was my grandfather and he was an artist. I'm not sure if that was his dream but it was certainly his passion and watching him paint was wonderful. To see a man so completely taken by a task that it distracted him from all of life's worries - I wanted that.

 

Once we start to grow up and life gets a little more gray we start to consider who we are and who we plan to be. Most of us decide what our dream is in High School. Some of us will shout it from rooftops, some of us will only tell our closest friends, and some of us are even too scared to utter it out loud. I used to be one of those people who was afraid to say it aloud because saying it would make it real and that meant it could be taken away. Then I met someone who changed my mind, they were the first person I'd ever really shared my writing with and they told me I was good enough to chase that dream. Having someone else believe in me gave me the opportunity to finally believe in myself and for that I'll be forever grateful.

 

I told my grandmother soon after that and she was surprisingly supportive. I thought she would be disappointed but she was overjoyed and that made it seem even more possible. I was so excited I told all my friends and teachers and again they believed in me. It was the best feeling in the world - everyone believed in me as a writer. Then the unthinkable happened that person who first believed in me broke my heart. I was crushed and soon I quit writing. I quit writing because I no longer believed in myself. I no longer believed in love. I didn't believe in the silliness of chasing your dream.

 

"Not until we are lost do we begin to find ourselves"- Thoreau

 

That was the dumbest thing ever! I gave up on my dreams because one person decided to give up on me? It took me a long time to realize just how stupid I was being but once I did I realized something...It took having my heart broken and giving up on everything I loved to realize that I have to believe in me. It would never matter what my grandmother thought, what my friends thought, what critics thought...all that mattered was if I believed in my dream. Once I came to that realization my world view changed.

 

Too often we put our hopes in dreams in others arms. We tell our loved ones to support us and protect us and to believe in us. We give them are most precious desire in life and tell them to take care of it like its their own. That is completely unfair not only to them but ourselves. We have to take back our dreams and fight for them ourselves. We have to stop being afraid to chase after our passion. "Thinking will not overcome fear but action will." We have to take action! Follow your dream and do it because you believe in yourself. Do not give up your dream because someone told you that you weren't good enough. It will only make you a shell of you wanted to become.

 

Follow your dream - whether it be playing basketball, becoming a doctor, publishing a novel, or having a beautiful family. Always be pushing yourself to make your dreams come true. You may not end up in the NBA or on the bestseller list but that doesn't mean you can't do what you love. It will take a lot of hard work and determination. There will be times where you believe you've failed. But I promise you this as long as you are working toward your dream then you are not failing. You are living.

 

"No one said it would be easy - they just promised it'd be worth it."

 

Much Love,

 

Maggie V.

Sneak Peek - Skye Dive

Behind The Pages

Skye Dive

 

I started writing Skye Dive nearly 6 years ago when I was sixteen. I wanted to write a story that could delve into the supernatural elements of the world and at the same time explore the psychology of a characters mind that is tested in the worst ways. I created Skyler a strong character who would have her limits pushed to see just how strong she really was.

…

Skyler – better known as Skye is the main character of “Skye Dive” and the first character I created. When I first created Skye I based a lot of her story line off that of my own however she soon became her own person in a way. Skyler is a strong person because she has no other choice but to be strong. Her life has been for the majority chaotic and the only way to deal with the chaos was to be tough. However there is a childlike fear in Skye that only two people recognize her sister Abigail and well you’ll have to buy the book to find out the second person. This fear stems from the fact that she really has no idea what she is doing yet pretends to have all the answers.

While writing this book I wanted to break apart Skye’s psyche I wanted to push her limits. She endures a lot throughout the novel and her reactions to life’s curveballs aren’t always the same. Sometimes being tough isn’t enough and she has to learn to open herself up and be vulnerable. She is someone that I think a lot of us can relate to. We all try to be tough on our exteriors and not show what are true feelings are but sometimes showing our feelings is the best way to get through our situation.

Her relationship with her sister Abigail is vital to her storyline. Abigail and Skye are opposites in many ways which helps them to balance each other’s personalities. The toughness of Skye has to be broken down by the softness of Abigail and their bond is only deepened by their tragedies. As they both try to figure out how best to deal with the situations they are in they learn more about each other and themselves than they ever thought possible.

The character of Skyler meant a lot to me as a writer. She was the first character I put myself into and the first character that became something more than an idea. Her journey is an incredible adventure and I really hope that you guys fall in love with her character as much as I did! Skye Dive will be coming out later this year and I hope you will all pick up a copy until then read the first chapter on this blog - Skye Dive  A Preview.

Much love!

 

-Maggie V.

Writing - Photo Series # 2

PHOTO SERIES # 2

 

 

A few weeks ago I did a photo series where I picked 3 photos and wrote something based on what those particular photos inspired in me. This week I asked my followers on tumblr, facebook, and instagram to pick photos of their choice. Only two were submitted.

 

 

With the first photo I decided to tell a short story, really a summary of an individual. I felt the photo itself elicited the beauty of a life changing moment.

 

 

 

It was then that he understood what it meant to be free. There under the morning sunlight at the edge of those mountains. He could have stepped off the edge into the rocky valley below; he could have ended it all. But he was free and being free meant having the right to live. He looked out across the mountains and saw nothing but beauty. Everything that had brought him here; the divorce, the accident, the pain it had given him a chance. A chance to see that freedom is a choice. We are free to love, free to chase dreams, free to be happy. We are free to live. And in that moment he chose life.

 

 

Photo # 2

For this photo I chose to write a poem.

 

"Run"

Run with me

O Darling

Run with me

 

Run through the unpicked flowers

Through the graceful trees

We’ll listen to Earth’s music

As it flows through the breeze

 

Run with me my love

And together we’ll be free

Run with me my love

Until we’ve no breath left to breathe

 

Run with me

O Darling

Run with me.

 

 

 

I hope that you enjoyed this photo series - if you would like to keep up with all of my writing please visit my website www.margaretverece.com

Also like me on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/margaretverece

 

Much Love,

 

Maggie V.

Preview of Dreamwalker - Short Story

Dreamwalker: A Short Story

Margaret Verece

 

I was having another falling dream. I was trying to jolt myself awake but I just kept falling, I was headed straight for the ocean. *BANG BANG BANG* I let out a squeal as I awoke to a police officer banging on my window.

“Sir, roll down your window.” The officer’s gruff voice echoed through my car window. I rolled down my window hoping the smell of whiskey wasn’t too strong on my breath.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry I had a long day at work and must have just fallen asleep in my car. I’ll be on my way, my apologies.” I said politely hoping to get out of here as fast as possible. The officer’s eyes traced over my Hyundai Elantra as he scanned for anything suspicious. He must have found something.

“Sir I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle with your hands up.  Hands up and slowly get out of the car. NOW!”  His voice boomed through my head and I wondered how much I’d had to drink to have a hangover this bad. I did as I was told and slowly got out of the car. I thought I was being polite enough and doing the right things however when my body slammed against the cement and I was read my rights I knew something was terribly wrong.

“I don’t understand officer; you’re arresting me for being drunk and asleep in my car?” I said trying not to sound sarcastic.

“No you prick I’m arresting you for murder.” He said as he picked me up off the ground and walked me to his patrol vehicle.

Murder I thought. Murder? They have the wrong man, I’m an alcoholic sure an asshole even but murder? I hated the sight of blood and the thought of getting my hands sticky, I could never murder someone. I tried to formulate words but nothing came out and I realized I was in shock. For Christ Sake I was being arrested for murder!

DRUG ADDICTION- THE TRUTH

Drug Addiction - The Truth

 

 

I'm about to get very open and honest about drug addiction. Some of what I say may offend some people, but I hope by the end of this you'll be educated. Drug addiction is a disease HOWEVER it is a disease that is chosen. Drug addicts choose this sickness every time they pick up a pill or a needle.

 

My mother is a drug addict - so is my father. There are three things you need to know about drug addicts, 1. they are selfish 2. what they are doing is a choice and 3. the more drugs they do the more they become someone unrecognizable. My mom has done drugs since I can remember. She started off with pills - mostly Oxys and then she progressed to hard drugs - her favorite being Meth. The first thing you need to know is that despite my mothers hardships of having a violently abusive husband she still chose a path of destruction by taking drugs. I love my mother, and I always will love my mother but I do not make excuses for her.

 

 

My mother had every reason to want to escape her life. Her husband beat her until she had broken ribs, he beat her down physically and emotionally. However she also had every reason not to do drugs. Two beautiful children who loved her and needed her, two loving parents willing to do anything to get her out of her situation and multiple other family members who would have given anything to help her. She had every opportunity in the world to choose differently yet she still chose drugs. She chose to pop pills which turned her into a zombie who didn't feed her children. She chose to take too much Oxy which made her angry and so she beat her children. She chose to destroy who she was and what life she had because she'd rather get high. That is both selfish and pathetic.

 

As a child I watched my mother sleep with random men for money, I watched her stick needles in her arm, pop pills like tic tacs, and pass out in her own filth. Eventually she got so bad that she didn't feed us, she didn't care for us, and she didn't want us. We became resources that she could use instead of children that she gave birth to. My mom eventually became something other than my mom. For a while my whole family fought the addiction like a war. We would throw her in rehab, we would tell her how it made us feel, we would take the drugs away - nothing we did mattered. We gave her every chance and yet she got worse. So many times we blamed ourselves - maybe if we had done something sooner about Jaime her abusive husband...Maybe we could have put her in a better rehab facility...maybe maybe maybe. But the truth of the matter is nothing we could of done would have mattered because my mom didn't want to change. She wanted to take drugs - she didn't need them, they just helped her cope and instead of facing her problems she drowned them with needles and bottles.

 

"Drugs take you to hell, disguised as heaven"

 

Here is why I say drug addicts are not helpless. If you can choose to pick up a needle and stick it in your arm you can choose not to pick that needle up. It won't be as easy but it can still be accomplished. There are plenty of addicts who decide one day to not pick up the needle - and they will tell you that it was the hardest decision of their life. They will tell you that everyday they think about how easy it would be to go back to using, and yet the choose not to. Life is hard. Life throws things at us that we can't understand - it fucks with our heads and hearts. Trust me I know - because like my mom I was beaten by my father, I was sexually abused by the one person who was meant to protect me. Growing up with my parents, dealing with the shit that way my life it would have been so easy to start taking pills or drinking away my issues. And I won't sit here and say that I didn't try because I definitely did. The difference is that I realized that doing drugs wasn't going to help me, in fact all it would do is hurt those around me that I loved. I would become just like my mother and father people I despised. I chose to live through the hell and appreciate the good times. People do it everyday and those people are the ones who are really having a hard time.

 

The sober people who deal with their tragedies with an open mind, the tortured souls who don't find solace in the bottom of a bottle. Drug addicts - they have it easy because they aren't dealing with life. The flip side is they don't get to appreciate the beautiful moments either. The birth of a child, falling in love, watching their child graduate. They can't appreciate those moments because they haven't ever dealt with the hardships.

 

 

 

Those of us who have someone in our life with an addiction problem need to understand that there is nothing we can do to help our loved ones unless they want help. You cannot fight their war, you cannot change them, and you damn sure can't control them. They are selfish and will use you until there is nothing left. My family did everything we could for my mom and for a long time I thought "she's my mom I can't just give up on her." Until one day I realized my mom did not see me as her child. My mother once told me she never wanted me, she never asked for us and I realized she was no longer my mother. She would never tell me she loved me and truly mean it, she would never be there for me, and she didn't care. All she cared about was how to get her next high. It was all about her escaping life. I decided at that moment that I wanted to live. I wanted to live through the shit and the great times. I wanted to experience every tragedy fully because then I could prove that you can. I could prove that we don't need drugs to escape the hardships - I could prove that its better to feel all of the pain in the world than to run away from everything you loved.

 

So to those of you who are dealing with someone with an addiction issues I'll say this - remember that they choose this path, remember that to them drugs are the only thing that matters. Every sob story they give you is an excuse to try and not be judged. And you can try and help them, and I encourage you to do so but only to the point where you aren't giving up your life. Don't sacrifice your well being for theirs because they won't care. If you've done your best and they still choose drugs then its time to walk away. Its time to let go of them because they've already let go of you.

 

 

-Much love

 

Maggie V

 

 





My First Love - My Dad

 

My First Love - My Dad

 

 

One of my best friends is about to lose her father to cancer and I wish there was something I could say to her that would help take away the immense pain she's about to experience. The truth is there is nothing that can take that horrible feeling away of losing your first love.

 

 

As a little girl my grandfather was my favorite person to be around. He and my grandmother had adopted me raising me as their daughter. I can say with certainty now that I've grown up that they were the best parents. When I was growing up I was a daddy's girl or I guess a grand daddy's girl. I followed my grandfather around everywhere and was determined to do anything to make him proud. He taught me how to play chess, and told me to follow my dreams no matter the cost. He was always there when I needed someone to talk to and gave me some of the greatest advice. He was my first love. He was the best man I've ever known and probably will ever know. He was my dad.

 

That word dad - means so much more to me now that he has passed away. There were times where I thought I hated him because he told me I couldn't date a particular boy or couldn't wear a short skirt. There where times he disappointed me, because he smoked when he was told not to by doctors. Then there was a moment where I hated him and loved him all at once. It was in a small room, with a single bed where he lay dying. There my dad was dying! I was fourteen, he was only in his fifties and he was leaving me alone in this world. All those promises he had made, to be at my graduation, to walk me down the aisle he was breaking them all. My dad never broke promises. I hated him for dying and yet I was overwhelmed by love because even in the moments before his death my dad was loving. He smiled at me as I whispered hatreds and complaints, he held me, he comforted me. Here my father was dying and he was still being a dad.

 

 

It's been 8 years since he passed away and it still hurts as much today as it did then when I think about it. I don't think it will ever not hurt but I'm okay with that because hurting reminds me that I had a dad worth hurting over. So I may not have my dad by my side to walk me down the aisle and neither will my friend but at least we had dads who were heroes. Dad's who loved us with all of their heart. So to all of you who still have your dad around I encourage you to love him as much as you can now. One day he won't be here and you'll always wish you had just one more moment.

 

 

To all the great dads in the world thank you! Thank you for being our heroes and our first loves!

 

 

 

I will always love you dad!

 

-Maggie V.



 

 



Philosophy For The Individual - Recycled Post

Philosophy is the highest music.--Plato


No one can define philosophy. It is an abstract idea something that depends on the individual. Sure philosophy could be defined as the pursuit of knowledge, but is that all it adds up to? I believe philosophy depends on the individual. What do you pursue? What motivates your thoughts and actions? Even more importantly is the why of those questions. Why do you pursue those things, why are your actions motivated by these values. When you answer those questions I believe that is when you discover your philosophy.


I believe having an individual philosophy is a key part in understanding one's life. It is a guideline that you live by, it is a way to explore who you are and who you want to be. Being able to create your own way of thinking is the greatest freedom. No one can take that from you. Not society, not institutions, no one unless you let them. Trust me when I say that people WILL try to take this freedom away. It may be your parents, your boss, or even your closest friends. Never sacrifice your freedom for the acceptance of another.
Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, its is time to pause and reflect-Mark Twain

So what happens when an institution that you believe in tries to take that freedom away? Say a school or a church. Something like that happened to a boy named Lennon in Minnesota. He attended a Catholic Church his whole life and it was time for him to go through Confirmation, a sacrament in which Catholics reaffirm their faith. At the same time he was getting ready to go through Confirmation there was political battle going on in his town on the subject of gay rights. Now Lennon's beliefs were to vote for gay rights, and that upset his church to the point where they took action against him, not allowing him to participate in Confirmation. This is a perfect example of an individual having a unique philosophy, and because it didn't match up with the majority's he was "punished."

Read the article here: http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-confirmation-fight-20121204,0,6040864.story

Why would the church do this? Why was Lennon's philosophy considered wrong in the view of this Catholic Church?  In my opinion its because this church didn't believe in individual philosophy but in religion. The gods gave us philosophy to think for ourselves, man created religion to control that thinking. When a member of a collective group confesses that they don't agree with everything the group stands for, the institution in charge feels it has to take action in order to keep this idea of free thinking from changing the very foundation of the institution. Is it right? That's up to you to decide. I applaud Lennon for standing up for his philosophy. For taking action to express how he felt about something even though the majority disagreed.

Whatever your philosophy involves whether it be a love of nature, art, equal rights. Whatever values define your philosophy, I hope you stay true to them and stand up for them when they're attacked. Also I hope you never attack someone else for their views, and keep an open mind. We all have right to hold true to our values, but we have a duty to protect that right for ourselves and others.

Consider the rights of other before your own feelings, and the feelings of others before your own rights-John Wooden


Maggie V