Summer Plans Shot

I finally found out what's wrong with my knee... Torn cartilage and soft tissue damage. No MRI until mid way through the summer. No heavy walking or exercise until then. Too bad I've already signed up for tennis this summer, and now I won't be able to do that or work out. Even driving will be a difficult and painful task--driving a standard with a bum knee is brutal, especially when it's the leg that is constantly on and off the clutch. Forever hating life away.

End rant.

Oh Irony..

It's ironic, isn't it? We always go back to the ones who hurt us the most. It's like we crave pain; heartbreak is a disease that we're just itching to feel. But now that sounds crazy. What kind of sick masochists are we to desire pain? It's not always physical pain either, despite that bruise on our arm that we keep poking at, even though we let out a little yelp of pain every time. So, what is it about emotional pain that draws us in? The only thing I can think of is that pain is real, one of, if not, the realest emotion a human will ever be able to feel. It goes straight to your core, sticks in your mind like an awful stench. Still, this makes the human race sound absolutely absurd. But it's nothing less than the truth. An example of this is a girl going back to the boy who broke her heart, over and over, tore her apart, over and over, belittled her, degraded her, pushed her limits and disrespected her so many times that his ancestors were more than likely rolling over in their graves. So why does she go back? Because she desires pain? Maybe. But, even though he may be a scum ball, he is what makes her the happiest. No one is ever able to wrap their head around that concept until they're wearing those shoes. And even when places in the position of the seemingly damsel in distress, does the situation become even more unclear. So why do we do it? Most of us will never know, we just blame it on love's perpetual blindness.

Limerick

An old woman ran for the hills
In her hands, she held one hundred bills
“I am rich!” she proclaimed
Her wallet no long’r maimed
Such joy brought her the greatest of chills

Everyone always says that we’re too young. Teenagers don’t know what love is, don’t know what pain is, what stress is, what true happiness is. We don’t know anything because we’re too young. But that’s a bunch of BS. We feel all those things, and we take everything to heart. When you’re a teenager, you have your first love, your first heartbreak, you get jealous, you get angry, you get stressed, and you have days of absolute happiness. There’s a lot that we deal with that is hidden from the outside world. Teenagers deal with things that are way over their heads, and usually, they deal with them by themselves. They escape a bit through blogging, music, writing, as well as many other things. In the end, it all comes down to that one over-used cliche, don't judge a book by its cover.

Musings

How can something that makes you so happy be the reason for your sadness? When you have it, you’re happy but in the next moment you’re at your lowest point. It seems almost like an oxymoron. Yet these are the things we as humans crave the most in our lives. Secretly, we desire the things that destroy us. We thrive off heartbreak and disappointment, but we yearn for ultimate happiness. It makes sense then as to why we go to see movies, hoping for a happy ending, but with a plot twist that usually equates to some type of setback and/or loss for the main character. That’s also why we love gossip—we secretly enjoy hearing of other people’s sorrows simply so we can say ‘Gee, thankfully that’s not me.’

People suck.

New Start

This was the beginning of real life, she thought to herself as she wove through the large crowd. There was no going back now. Her stomach felt like a thousand butterflies were fluttering around, and her heart felt like it was in her throat. The plane ticket felt so right in her hand, like this was all meant to be. She was about to hop on a plane that would take her to her new home, thousands of miles away. In her new city she didn’t know anyone or where anything was, there was no real reason for her to move either, she was doing it to live out her dream.

As she got onto the plane, she envisioned how the tropical sun would feel against her skin, as well as the slight breeze from the ocean. She pictured the beautiful sounds the birds would sing, and she’d have a hop in her step, humming along with the birds.

She belong in the tropics, cold weather was not her thing. She could handle the bugs, the heat and the humidity; she was also excited to adjust to the season switch. In North America it was winter, in Australia it was summer. That was a pretty easy switch, she thought as she smiled to herself.

Hours later, the plane landed and she was the first one to jump out of her seat. She was too excited to even notice the stiffness in her legs from sitting for so long. As she made her way through the airport her excitement grew. This was it, life began now.

Whirlwind

Her life was like a movie, she mused. One of those overly dramatic ones, where it’s one thing after another, and tonight was the climax.

After being accused of things she didn’t do and having him tell her that he didn’t love her, she was furious with him. She had been biting her tongue the entire relationship, afraid to anger him, afraid to lose him. But that all changed tonight—she finally had enough. Tonight she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

That was until he bluntly said, “When I die, you’re going to be the reason why.” That comment stopped her right in her tracks.

She repeatedly told him that he was better than that, but he was too stubborn to listen. It wasn’t until a mutual friend of theirs told her that the last thing he said to them was that he was not okay and walking in traffic. That’s when panic ensued.

She messaged every single one of her friends as well as her, urging them all to go out and search for him. The comments he made no longer mattered, only his safety. For an hour she frantically searched for him, only to come up empty handed. It neared the early hours of the morning and her heart was in her throat until she finally heard that he was safe with his brother.

She spoke with his brother briefly and he assured her that he would keep him safe. She finally started to settle down and considered sleeping after spending the last three nights sleepless. Just when she calmed herself, she got another message from his brother apologizing for talking to her at this time but that his brother insisted he speak with her on the phone, and refusing anything else until then.

Concerned, she obliged and anxiously waited to hear her boyfriend’s voice on the phone.

It wasn’t, however, the one she was used to hearing every night. It was quiet, groggy and unfocused. He didn’t sound sober, in fact, he sounded barely alive.
Her mind was racing again, trying to figure out what he could have possibly done to himself. It wasn’t until morning that she learned that he had mixed several ecstasy pills with alcohol, and that she was the reason why.

Hold Your Breath

She was fighting with him, but that wasn’t new. It seemed that the closer they got, the more they fought. Really, it didn’t make any sense, how could two best friends fight light cats and dogs? He said he cared, she doubted it. She said she cared, and she meant it.

What they had was good, and sometimes it could be great if they could go a few weeks without fighting. Granted, she had done some things that she knew would hurt him, considering he had confessed his deepest feelings to her. And he had made sure to have told her the night before exactly how he felt about her, and how much she had hurt him. So when her friends mentioned he’d be coming to the party that night, her stomach was in knots.

He arrived and there was an uncomfortable silence, she wondered if he would come over to say hello. After hugging everyone, she was surprised to see him walk over to her and give her a one-armed hug. They didn’t talk at all through that night though; they each stayed with their own group of friends.

She stepped outside for an hour or so to talk to one her friends because the cool tension in the room was annoying her. Eventually, several friends ran out of the house looking for her, saying she needed to go inside to handle her best friend.
She found him in the bathroom sitting on the floor in front of the toilet—how she usually saw him. He had an eating disorder, she assumed either anorexia or bulimia, it varied. He tried hiding it but she knew him well enough to figure out all his ways of ridding his body of food—he’d either voluntarily vomit, get too drunk where he’d vomit or use his intolerance to lactose as an excuse to get sick. This time he chose the route of alcohol-induced vomiting. But there was something different about him this time, she noted. He didn’t look the same, he looked weak.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him as she closed the bathroom door quietly behind him.
He looked up at her, tried a smile. “Nothing, I think I drank too much.”

“Don’t you always?” She noticed his eyes were watery. “Eat some bread; it’ll help soak up the alcohol.”

“I tried.” He looked annoyed. “My body is completely rejecting food.”

She sat down beside him and rubbed his back. “I’ll get you a glass of water then.”

She walked into the kitchen and poured him a glass of cool water. When she knocked and opened the door again she noticed that his usually dark was pale. She knew something was wrong and he just wasn’t telling her. At this point she had forgotten about their fight and was concerned about her best friend.

“I’m really sick,” he said.

“I know you are; I took the hint from you vomiting.”

“No,” he mumbled, “I’m really sick. I haven’t told anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

Her heart started racing as she swallowed hard. “What is it?” she whispered.

He looked her directly in the eye. “I’m HIV positive. I found out three weeks ago. It’s gonna kill me.”

She was in utter shock. Words scrambled through her mind but none could connect with her lips. Was she hearing him correctly? She felt like fainting, but also like hugging him. She wanted to extract the disease from his weak body and burn it to the ground. He didn’t deserve this, no one did. But he was such a great person; he disguised his hurt through bitterness.

When she could find the words, she spoke them quietly. “Was it…?” she trailed off.

He looked at her, his eyes displaying his vulnerability. “Yeah.”

She was silent again. Her head, however, was pounding. She kneeled and pulled him in tight for a hug. They stayed like that for a bit, tears rolling down both their faces. When he finally pulled away, she looked at him with sadness evident on her face. She hated the world, hated the person who gave it to him, hated that these diseases were even being spread. She also knew that this was something he couldn’t talk his way out of, he was stuck with it forever, and it was going to be the end of him.

One-Eighty

This was the happiest she had been in a while. It seemed like everything was finally clicking into place after the past few months where her life had seemed to fall apart more and more as the days went on. However, this is how it had started off before, she reminded herself. Before her life fell apart, it had been stellar. She was accepted socially by everyone, gaining friends by the days. The boys had also started taking more of a notice to her. She was also doing well in school and her future was looking clear.

Unfortunately, this new exciting life of hers was also the beginning of the fast one. She started experiencing everything her parents had warned her about: drugs, alcohol, crime, and the nights that she could not remember. And that’s where the beginning of the end could be found.

Drunken hookups had become a regular thing for her on the weekends; she stopped caring about her morals or pride and just racked up the numbers. Though that all changed one night, her fun was about to come to a screeching halt.

It started off with her meeting her usual group of friends, sharing a few beers, cigarettes and joints. The weather wasn’t too cold since it was only the beginning of November and the weather had been unusually warm. Because of this, everyone gathered at a local park that was somewhat secluded. As the night carried on, everyone went along and did their own thing. Fearing having the police being called on such a large group of people, she went off with several friends to one of their houses. The drinking continued and good decisions became a rarity. Hours passed before all of her friends left, leaving her alone at one of the boys’ houses with only him. He suggested things; she went along with them and would later regret them in the end. But at that time there was enough alcohol flowing through her body to make anything seem like a good idea, even giving up her innocence to a guy who was only going to use her for the night.

With that one poor decision followed a stream of consequences. It started off with her two best friends, one of which had a major crush on her, refusing to speak with her, the guy ignoring her for a month, and a brief phone call from the doctor telling her that she contracted an STD. That news had taken the greatest toll on her, even though she didn’t show it. Her grades dropped, her self-esteem plummeted, her dreams changed, and her old ways worsened. She felt completely alone. There was no one she could comfortably tell; she had to hide it from her family.

Months had passed and things had slowly fallen back into place—it was never going to be the same or feel the same again, she knew that, but this was as close as it was going to get. She stopped smoking and drinking, focused more in school, got back into sports, and focused on becoming a better person. During this process, she began to date the boy who had been her best friend and despite their numerous stupid little fights, she was happier with him than she ever was before.

The Visit

As far as day offs went, Riley mused, this one was pretty damn good. She had spent the day lounging around in sweats, eating popcorn and drinking fine wine with the man she considered her own personal hero. Brett Sharpe had kept her from leaping off the edge of sanity.

Now they stood dressed formally for their dinner date that was scheduled for seven at a new French restaurant. Well, it was quarter after seven and Riley was in a little black dress, with flaming red heels, pacing the apartment’s living room. Brett was in the bathroom fixing his hair.

“Brett,” Riley called out, “could you at least try to hurry?”

“Give me five more minutes. I’m having a bad hair day.” His voice was a little muffled because of the door, but Riley heard him loud and clear. She had ears like a cat.

“You said that ten minutes ago, when you all ready know that your hair is naturally perfect.”

“Five minutes, Riley. Oh, and get the door,” he added when it rang.

She muttered a suggestion under her breath that would have appalled him if he’d heard it while she stalked to the door. Even Riley couldn’t mask the surprise that came to her pretty face when she swung the door open.

“Jack.” She hadn’t seen, or spoken to him since she left Rimouski for Australia, five years back.

“Hey, Rye.” His smile was as easy as his tone. “Gonna invite me in?”

“Right.” She started to move aside, then stopped. “You’ve caught me at a bad time, Jack. I was just on my way out.”

He studied her up and down and then grinned. “So I see. Lookin’ good, Rye.”

She flushed slightly, which had only added to her beauty. The last time he had seen her she’d been in jeans and a t-shirt with her hair tied in a loose ponytail. Now she was dressed in a sleek and sexy black little dress, red heels, red lipstick, and a little red handbag. Her hair was up in a bun with what he took as chopsticks in her hair.

The years had been very generous to her.

“Thanks, I—” She broke off when Brett walked into the living room.

“Riley, who’s at the— Oh. Hello,” Brett said in a charming tone.

“You look perfect,” Riley muttered under her breath, looking at Brett. “Ah, Brett, Jack Johnson. Jack, Brett Sharpe.”

“Nice to meet you.” Find somewhere else to be, Brett told himself. “I’ll just go get my jacket.”

As he walked off, Jack looked around the apartment. It was clean, he noted, except for the glasses of wine on the table. And spacious, even with all the stylish furniture there was still a lot of empty space. He thought the place suited Riley just fine.

“He seems nice,” Jack commented.

Riley smiled. “Brett’s a great guy. So, what brings you to Pittsburgh, Jack? As I recall it isn’t hockey season just yet.”

You always did have good taste, he mused. “No, it’s not that time of year. However, I was just passing through and thought I’d pay an old friend a visit. But I see you’re busy so we’ll have to reschedule our little rendezvous.”

“How long are you in town?”

“It depends, really,” he told her.

She pursed her lips, and drew her brows together, in thought. “Well tomorrow I work from nine to five. Do you want to do a dinner thing?”

After a moment’s thought and careful calculation, Jack responded. “Yeah, I think I can manage a dinner thing. It’ll have to be a later one, though.”

Riley smiled. “No problem. Does seven work for you? Or shall we make it seven-thirty?”

“Seven’s fine,” he assured her. “I’ll need your cell number.”

“Right,” she muttered. It occurred to Riley now that she had left her phone in the bedroom. “Let me just go get that,” she said, and then turned down the hallway. She appeared seconds later with her phone held tightly in her hand. “Add your number in and I’ll do the same.”

They exchanged numbers and goodbyes as Jack left for the evening. Brett returned to the living room just as Riley closed the door. He looked perfect, she thought enviously. He had probably spent the last hour in the bathroom staring at himself instead of fixing his hair. The man always looked perfect.

“Ready?” She asked with a quick glance at her watch. They were now half an hour late.

“Yes,” Brett answered. After he locked the door, he and Riley made their way down to the parking garage, his arm wrapped companionably around her waist. “How convenient of him to stop by,” he commented on the drive to the restaurant.

“He was in town, and decided to drop by,” she said with a shrug.

“Mm-hmm. Whatever makes you happy, my dear,” he said easily as he pulled into a parking space. “So you’ll read the menu to me, right? I don’t happen to speak French.”

Riley laughed as they walked into the building. Lumiere was an expensive, fine dining French restaurant that had opened only months before. She’d been dying to try it out.

A man in a suit opened the door for them as they entered. “Bonjour, madam et monsieur.” He gave them the once-over coolly, nodded in approval. “Table for two?”

“We have reservations for Jacobs,” Riley told him kindly.

“Ah yes, follow me.”

He led them to a table in the back where only candles lit the room, and soft music played. There Riley spotted her brother, Ben and his fiancée, Kim. They looked to be in an intense conversation but looked up as the man in the suit delicately cleared his throat.

“Your guests have arrived,” he stated then left.

Brett pulled Riley’s chair out for her, then sat beside her. He had met Ben and Kim before and found that he enjoyed their company very much. He could see a lot of Riley in her older brother.

“So, how have you two been?” Ben asked once the waiter, Pierre, brought out the glasses of water.

“Good,” Riley said. “Busy with work, you know?”

“Much of the same for me,” Brett said pleasantly. “And what about you two?”

Ben and Kim looked at each other and grinned. “Work and wedding plans,” Kim said.

They continued to talk throughout the evening with only a few disturbances. Several people had walked by their table and said hello to Riley, saying how they enjoyed her articles and wished to see more of her on TV. She would reply with a smile and thank them for their support in her charming way.

When it was nearing the end of their dinner, a man had approached their table wishing to speak with Brett.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said then got up to talk with the man.

Recognizing the look in Riley’s eyes, Kim also excused herself. “I need to go touch up my makeup,” she told them before scurrying off to the ladies’ room.

Both Ben and Riley watched her in silence. “You sure know how to clear a table,” Ben joked.

“Brett wasn’t my fault,” she said.

“I know. So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Riley stared at his face. “I never said that I wanted to speak to you about anything.”

“You didn’t, no. But there is a look in your eye that says differently.”

She sighed. “Okay, so maybe I did want to talk to you about something.” Riley took a long sip of water. “I’m having second thoughts.”

“About what in particular, Rye?”

“About everything. Did I make the right decision? Or did I blow it all out of proportion? Am I happy? God, Ben, I broke his heart again. On the same goddamn day too.”

“Irony,” Ben said softly. “I can’t answer those questions for you. Although I will tell you this: I don’t think you’ll do yourself any good dwelling on the past. Five years ago you left Rimouski to make a name for yourself; that was probably your smartest decision ever. A month ago you left Nova Scotia to prove to yourself that the name you have was created by you and your talents only; that was probably your stupidest decision ever.”

Riley sat there staring at her brother. She had always admired him, had always trusted him, but she had no idea that he would say something like that to her. Over the past month dozens of people had offered their advice—none had gotten through to her like this.

She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it firmly when she saw Brett and Kim walking back to the table.

“Are we ready to head out?” Brett asked, his eyes focused on Riley.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s getting late and I’ve got work in the morning.” She put fifty dollars on the table and then turned to her brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Bye,” she said to each of them and kissed them on the cheek.

The drive back to the apartment was quiet. Brett had the car windows open a bit, letting in the warm summer night air. When they got back to the apartment, he turned to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“Then why is there sadness lingering in your eyes?” At her silence he pulled her in for a comforting hug. “You miss him, don’t you?”

She looked up at him. “Yeah, I’m just starting to realize it now, too.”

“No, you’re finally starting to admit it,” he corrected, tilting her face up even more with his finger. Then he leaned down and laid his lips lightly over hers, a gesture made to soothe. “Go change into something comfy, and then get some sleep.”

She nodded and pulled away from him slowly. She turned to grab her handbag off the couch and that’s when she spotted a pair of pink Converse laying by the front door. They were hers, no doubt about it, but they hadn’t been there that morning, she was sure of that. When she realized how they got there, the red handbag that she adored fell to the floor.

She had left those shoes at Sidney’s summer home in Nova Scotia in her rush to leave. And the only person who had visited the apartment the entire day was one person who she knew would have been there. Jack. The name rang through her head a thousand times, it was overwhelming. She sat on the arm of the couch, a dazed expression masking her face.

Riley was only in the apartment physically. Every other part of her was in Nova Scotia. She didn’t even notice Brett standing in front of her, didn’t feel his hands on her shoulders. Was he keeping her upright? She couldn’t feel anything.

“Riley,” she heard Brett say. “Riley? Earth to Riley? Anyone there?” He shook her slightly; she didn’t feel it. The only thing she could feel was the broken pieces of her heart aching. “Riley, damn it, say something.”

She opened her mouth, moved her lips like she was speaking, but no sound escaped. She could hear a dull buzzing in her ears and behind that was Brett’s voice telling her to say something, anything. “The shoes,” she whispered. When he only continued to look at her with worried eyes, she pointed. “The shoes, Brett.” Her voice was coming stronger. “The shoes,” she repeated in a voice that shook with hysteria. “They weren’t there this morning, or yesterday, or the day before. But they’re there now. I left them at—” She took a deep breath, so deep it hurt. “I left those shoes at Sid’s.”

Brett turned and looked at the shoes. Something jumped in his stomach. “You left them in Nova Scotia, and now they’re here. Now you’re thinking that…” It all made sense now.

“Jack. Jack wasn’t just in town. The bastard lied to me. He was in Nova Scotia with Sid, then he was here. Why? To check up on me? I wouldn’t put it past Sid to keep tabs on me. But why him? His whole bloody team is right here. Why?”

He didn’t have the answers to that questions she kept asking herself. He knew she wouldn’t want them anyway. Riley was a person who liked to figure things out herself. Brett respected that, and that’s why he said no more for the rest of the night.

This was something Riley needed to do on her own. But he’d be there for her if she needed him.

***

Jack didn’t mind planes. He had gotten used to them over the years; especially with all the traveling from city to city he had to do with hockey. He actually enjoyed those plane rides with his teammates, his friends, his brothers. They gave him time to goof around and times to think and times to sulk.

But this time he had an unusual feeling in the pit of his stomach. That feeling, he realized, was a mix of nervousness and fear. And it wasn’t because of the planes.

How would he do it? How could he? How did a man tell his friend that the girl he loved was with another man? Well, he would just have to find a way.

Jack walked up to the door and took a deep breath before knocking. He tried to compose himself in those gruelling seconds it took Sidney to open the door. Then he’d have to break his friend’s heart.

The door swung open and Jack was met with Sidney’s smiling face. The smile wavered as Sidney racked his brain for reasons his pal would be on his doorstep looking so guilty.

“Jack, what are you doing here? I thought you had to go back to L.A.” Sidney moved aside to let Jack in.

“Yeah, I lied.” He felt horrible, worse than horrible. “Sid, I—” He broke off, cursed. How would he do this? God, he hated what he had to say. Just then a thought came to mind. It could work, maybe. “Sid, pack up some clothes. The plane leaves in ten minutes.”

The Beginning of a New Chapter

The walls were a dull grey; everything in the office was the exact same desolate colour. There was one light in the entire room and there wasn’t a doubt in Riley’s mind that it hadn’t been changed in quite a while. She shifted in her chair noting that even the furniture wasn’t inviting.

“How do you work in this? It’s so depressing,” Riley said as she crossed her legs for the third time.

“Are you here for an interview or to critique my designing style?” The woman who sat across from Riley was known for her dull tastes. She had about an inch on Riley’s five-foot-seven and wasn’t afraid to use her size for power. Her hair was a light blonde and pulled back so tightly in a bun that it gave Riley a headache just looking at it.

“Sorry,” Riley muttered. “Now, Mrs. Norman, what are your thoughts on this upcoming project?”

“Well, I’ve always believed in the well being of our elders. They are always the ones who are targeted first you know. So, after witnessing some elder abuse, I decided to take a stand. My partner, Rodney, and I discussed this topic one time over brunch,” Mrs. Norman smiled politely. “We agreed that the elderly are capable of defending themselves – I mean have you seen them at their bingo?”

Forty-five minutes later, Riley walked out of the building rubbing her temples. She was going to need a tanker-load of Tylenol when she got back home. She tried to smile when she spotted Brett leaning casually against his car but it only came out as a wince.

“How’d it go?” He had an amused look on his pretty face.

“I’ve got the mother of all headaches right now.”

“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad,” he said with a small laugh.

“It could have and it was,” Riley said as she climbed into the passenger seat of his four door Ford. “First, I had to stare at her face for an hour. I know that sounds mean, but the woman wears her hair so tightly tied back her eyes were practically popping out of her head. Then she made these jokes,” she said, her voice going up an octave, “it was about as funny as watching a cat die.

“The room,” her voice was pleading now. “It just screams boring. Everything is this dull grey, it’s like prison. No, it’s worse than prison.”

“Maybe some lunch will brighten your spirits,” Brett said in a hopeful voice as he pulled into his parking space at his condo.

Cheesy Post

What is love?

Love is an emotion, love is an idea, love is a dream, and love is someone's last wish. Love is overpowering. Love is empowering.

Love makes you silly, love makes you happy, love makes you crazy, and love makes you stupid. Love is the reason for the feeling of forty thousand butterflies in your stomach at the sight of a certain person. Love is that instantaneous smile that appears on your face when you see them.

Love makes the world go round. Love is everything.

Love changes people, some for the better, and some for the worst. You can be the most independent, self-sufficient person there is, but when you fall victim to this emotion, you are irrevocably changed. You become dependent on that person, you care about them so much that it hurts.

When they smile, you smile. When they hurt, you hurt.

Love is uplifting; it can pull you out of any depression. Love shines a light on all that darkness. Love makes you feel on top of the world.

But when it's gone, nothing feels right. When you let the love of your life slip through your fingers, there is no worse feeling. The aching in your heart is painful enough, real enough to make you believe that your heart is physically breaking. No amount of drugs or alcohol can take that pain away; neither can crying until you become dehydrated.

Distracting yourself with other things, whether that is a new hobby, a new 'love', burying yourself in work, or inflicting more pain to yourself, will only take your mind away from the heartbreak for a little while. The thoughts, the memories, the old feelings and the new feelings all come surging back the moment your mind is clear. And then it's like you can feel your heart tearing to tiny, jagged pieces all over again. Each and every time you relive this, the pain gets stronger.

You want to hate this person with every part of your broken self, but you can't.
You can't because you still love them and you hate yourself for that. Forgiveness isn't easy, but it is necessary.

In order to move on, you need to forgive the person who hurt you. Only then will you allow yourself some peace of mind. Through forgiving, you'll allow yourself the chance to be happy, the chance to feel alive again, the chance to be free.

And then, just maybe, you'll fall in love with someone new.

Only this time, the feeling will be different. You'll know what love feels like so you'll cherish every beautiful moment of it. You'll also know what heartbreak feels like so you'll try your hardest to never make this person feel that way. And you will always mentally prepare yourself for another painful goodbye.

The excitement of your first love will always be with you and so will the pain of your first heartbreak. But you owe it to yourself to take these experiences and learn from them.

Love changes people.

Once you've been in love, you will never be the same.

That Arena Feeling

The lights were set to a low dim, the announcer’s voice boomed. The crowd roared as spotlights displaying the picture of a large, fierce-looking penguin criss-crossed over the freshly cleaned, glimmering ice. The chants began just seconds before the home team stepped on the ice. The crowd got louder.

A few boos where hollered when the visiting team stepped on. Both teams, consisted of twenty men each, warmed up on their end of the ice. Both set up in the widely popular butterfly drill. Pucks crossed from end to end, passed tape to tape, and shot into the net. Some stretched, some were being interviewed, and some skated around scoping for colourful, homemade signs with witty sayings on them.

Everything came to a halt when the national anthems were sung. Five skaters and a goalie of each team stood on the ice and faced the flags; the other fifteen players stood on their corresponding benches and bowed their heads in respect.

As the home team’s national anthem began, the crowd cheered and sang along loudly, their hands on their hearts.

Once over, they prepared for the puck to drop and the show to begin.