MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I have always loved Christmas.

Ever since I was a little girl and baked Santa cookies and stayed up all night because the excitement wouldn't let me sleep.
Even now, even after I've grown out of the childhood excitement and Santa is just a mere myth, I still love Christmas.
It's a time to love and share and appreciate what you have and what is to come.
This year there's not a lot of presents under the tree, and there's a slight gloom in the air, but as it's the first Christmas since I've moved away from home, the only thing I care about is that I am here with my family and that they are all safe and happy.
I don't care about presents or possessions. I am here to spend the holidays with the people whom I love most.
So Happy Holidays to all! I hope you can all appreciate them the way I do.

You'll never see what I see...

A creepy day.

I Remember You

At first the boy didn't think twice about the messy young girl sitting on the sidewalk on his way to work. Day after day she was there, nothing but another homeless child not unlike the hundreds you see on a daily basis in the big city. Always looking lonely, always looking helpless, always he passed her by.

One morning she was not there.

And she remained missing.
That afternoon, the next morning, and the morning after that. The mornings and afternoons came and went. And the boy found himself thinking more often of the messy girl.

Then one morning, something on the sidewalk.
A small note, written in black ink and smudged with dirty fingerprints.
He picked it up.

The next morning the boy didn't show up for work.
Nor the next, nor the next.

A week later the messy girl wandered back to her place on the sidewalk. She had lost a letter from her notebook. But, in her place on the sidewalk lay, not a sheet of paper, but a messy young boy.

A messy young boy lay sleeping on the sidewalk where she had once lain, with a piece of paper clutched in his hand. The messy young girl took the letter.
It was her letter.
It read:

"I'm so sick of being disposable. I just want to feel like I'm worth something. I need to know that I am capable of loving and being loved. I need to know that I am not just another forgotten soul. I need to know that you won't forget me."

And then, sprawled across the bottom of the page in red ink:

"I REMEMBER YOU."

The messy boy awoke...

Some photo from the drunken adventures archive.

To change for someone is to lie to yourself...

What separates the shy from the bold?
Why don't I know who I am?