Diana Kurniawan

~ Dedicated to all of the children and young adults I met in my life. You are my bright shining Sun. ~

I'm a good kid

Because I know how to love

I know I care

About me and my heart

 

I'm a good kid

Because I can smile

When the sun shines bright

Or when the moon hides behind the clouds

 

I'm a good kid

Because I know I can fly

Even through the storm

And when the sky turns grey up above

 

I'm a good kid

Because I have courage

To stand, run, and dance

Even when the world will not give me a chance

 

I'm a good kid

Because I am strong

Even when I am weak

Or when the Earth turns upside down

 

I'm a good kid

Because I care enough to make it

Although the valleys are deep and wide

 

I'm a good kid

And I am on my way

To become good people

 

Because good people laugh

through the cries of sorrow

 

Because good people hug

to embrace another

 

Because good people speak

of lovely words with uplifting voices

 

Because good people live

and keep on breathing, through and through

 

 

Because good people are honest

taking lies away further from the truth

 

Because good people shine

living with pure light inside their minds

 

I am on my way

To become good people

 

Taking each step

One at a time

 

I am on my way

To become good people

 

Loving my life

Living with love

 

I am on my way, to become …

 

Everything I am meant to be

 

Precious

 

Beautiful

 

Wonderful

 

Honorable

 

I am a good kid

 

I love me

 

I love all I will be

 

Good people, I am meant to be

 

Good people, that's me

 

 

The end. Just write.

~ Dedicated to Jonathan Brandis. I'm always going to be proud of you, kiddo. ~

 

I met a boy at school once, and he knew everything.

 

He thought everything was easy, and he made the hardest things become the simplest ideas.

 

One day he came to school with a picture of a tree.

 

The boy asked me, "Look at this picture, and tell me, what do you see?"

 

"I only see a tree," I told him. "But, what do you see?"

 

"I see a whole new life, and a whole new vision," said the boy.

 

"What do you mean? What else do you know?" I asked and wondered what it was that the boy saw in his visions.

 

 "I could see the future," said the boy.

 

"I believe you. I wish I could see the future too!" I told him, and he smiled at me.

 

He walked ahead of me and I never saw the boy again.

 

One day, I saw some people at school talking about him. I asked them, "Did you see the picture of the tree?"

 

A friend looked at me, and asked, "What do you mean? What tree? The boy was taken to a new school, with new friends. He said he could see the future."

 

The next few days, I saw his face on several newspapers, with the frontpage headline titled, BOY WONDER FOUND CURE TO THE FUTURE!

 

Everyone in the city spoke about him, and one man said, "He is a genius!"

 

THIS BOY IS A WONDER OF THE WORLD, printed the newspaper.

 

"But what did he see?? Could he fly? To the moon?" I asked some random people in the city.

 

"I think the boy could do anything, and see everything!" said a young man.

 

No one knew where he went, so I thought, "I hope he remembers me."

 

I minded my own life, but never met anyone like boy wonder since.

 

Years went by, and I often thought of him after the newspaper printed the story.  

 

My time at school was amazing, and wonderous things happened to me. 

 

I found the greatest things in my lunch box after school, and fresh apples on the seat of my bicycle, but there were no apple trees nearby.

 

I wondered, "Does someone know me? But, I am just a random kid at school."

 

One day, I found a little sparkling glass star, with a note that said, "You're famous!"

 

 There was also a picture of a tree on the seat of my bike, "Who left this here?"

 

My eyes moistened and I began to cry because I realized, someone loved me.

 

"I think, I know who this was from," I said to the clouds.

 

I rode my bike to the lake, and looked up to the sky with tears in my eyes.

 

I yelled at the top of my lungs, "I want Boy Wonder to fly to the moon! To the SKIES AND UP ABOVE!"

 

At that moment, I felt the future was the greatest thing, EVER!

 

I loved myself from then on, because I found out what the boy knew, and it was called, HOPE!

 

Not long after, I saw on the frontpage of a newspaper, a picture of him but a little taller.

 

The newspaper printed, BOY WONDER IS FLYING TO THE MOON.

 

I read the paper carefully and saw something wonderful on the picture.

 

Boy wonder had a button on his shirt of the same tree he drew at school, and underneath it was a message that said, "FOR MY FRIEND."

 

 

The end. Just write.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ~ Inspired by Janet Nuss and Dr. Marian Mehegan, DDS.~

 

Broken cups, spilling milk,

Or plates tumbling

When you're hiding, running,

Jumping, or screaming

 

Know that I love you

 

When you cry and

Everyone sees

Even with bandages

On your knees

 

Know that I love you

 

After a fight, and

You've been pushed down

Even when everyone

Keeps poking fun

 

Know that I love you

 

When people are laughing

But you are embarrassed

Hiding behind your palms

Eyes red and heart calloused

 

Know that I love you

 

When you feel a bit

Tattered inside

And no one could place

Your sadness aside

 

Know that I love you

 

When the going

Gets rough

When you feel you're

Not strong enough

 

Know that I love you

 

When your heart is

Joyfully dancing

And you are

Jubilantly singing

 

Know that I love you

 

When you are

The winning team, and

You've reached everything

You can dream

 

Know that I love you

 

When you have to make

A perfect choice

Hoping and praying

To hear a voice

 

Know that I love you

 

When you're facing

So many choices

Trying to make

The right decision

 

Know that I love you

 

If thunder and lightning

causes some fear

And the darkness

Comes crawling near

 

Know that I love you

 

When nothing can

Give you despair

And every second is

A breath of fresh air

 

Know that I love you

 

But, before, after,

During, or while

And when everything

Gives you a smile

 

Know that I love you

 

When you've found

Your true love

Truly divine from

Up above

 

Know that I love you

 

In winter, spring,

Summer, or fall

Blooming flowers, and

The gentle breeze call

 

Know that I love you

 

I love you

 

I love you

 

I will always love you

 

 

The end. Just write.

I am a little person from the island of No One.

It is an island, above Nonsense, and Everything.

 

I want to move from this island to become SOMEONE, because I feel everyone in No One, seems to know something, although they really know nothing.

 

So, I pack all of my things, to go to Anywhere, Everywhere, before somebody tells me to stop!

 

I gather all of my belongings, 44 years in the making, and I have a PLAN.

 

I will make SOMETHING, to make me SOMEONE, out of No One.

I will make a stamp! So people can see how I was nothing, and became SOMEBODY.

 

I say to my parents, "Mom, Dad, I am good to go. I even have a "plan!"

"Since you are over 40 years old, we can trust you and we think you can make it!" My parents says to me.

 

On my journey, I met a man, he says, "Look at me, I am half Nothing, partly Somebody, and I made SOMEONE out of myself."

 

The man is strange, with curly brown hair and a spiky-yellow goatee.

I shake his hand, and tell him, "I am a little person, from the island of No One."

 

He laughs, and tells me, "I was a No One too!"

I reply, "Really? Where from?"

 

"The big part of Nonsense, and our family, often goes to see Everything," he says.

 

"Wow, I am happy for you!" I tell him, speaking as a No One.

 

"Well, I'm on a journey to become SOMEONE!" I tell him.

 

His eyes glistens as he tells me, "It's good thing you know! Look at me now, I'm a HUGE SOMETHING!"

 

I say, "Wonderful, I even have a "plan."

 

He pats me on my back, and he says, "Well, little No One, I'll go and bid you good luck. So, one day, you can be SOMEONE."

  

I am joyful, and my smile shines as HUGE SOMETHING rides off into the sunset.

 

I soar my arms as if I am flying, and I feel the wind while running to the nearest, "Air Mail Station."

 

It took hours to find EVERYWHERE, and finally, I see on the horizon, ANYWHERE is somewhere near.

 

I start running and got so excited that my arms flops up and down.

 

"I'm almost there, the place called ANYWHERE, EVERYWHERE! I am so proud of me!" I say to myself.

 

I walk inside the Airmail Station, and say to the man in front of me, "Hi, I'm a little person, and I have a plan."

 

"Yes, thrill me!" the man says. I believe his name is Airmail Worker as he looks at me with a gargantuan grin.

 

"I know how to make a stamp!" I say to him with a smile.

 

"Wow, you're one of those. The type with a plan," says Airmail Worker, as he strokes his chin.

 

"I told you, I told you, I know it!" I yell, showing Airmail Worker see, how capable I am to reach the sky.

 

"I'm hoping your plan will work," he says.

 

"I think it will. I even told my parents about this," I say to him, with excitement.

 

"Well, you have to be at least 21 years old," says Airmail Worker as he pulls out a form.

 

"I'm 44 years old! YES! I made it!" I cry out, because I am happy.

 

"Definitely, you are old enough," he says, as Airmail Worker shakes my hand.

 

"Fill this out. It's a form.  And you must sign the back of this piece of paper," Airmail Worker says.

 

As I fill out the form, I pull out a small, old, photograph of me, when I was a baby with black hair.

 

"This is it. This is my photo!!" I show Airmail Worker.

 

Airmail Worker looks at my photo, and say, "Ha Ha Ha Ha! This is hilarious! You really are a little person!"

 

"I am actually from the island of No One," I immediately say to Airmail Worker.

 

"I am very touched, and since you look hilarious. I don't see why this photo won't work as a stamp," says Airmail Worker.

 

"That's exactly my point! I am a very hard worker, that's the talent of a little person," I say to him, showing Airmail Worker my excitement.

 

"I will process this form, and take this photo to see if my Supervisor will love it," he says. "Just stay around, little one, and don't go around EVERYWHERE," says Airmail Worker, as he walks to the back of the store and disappears.

 

I stand near the counter at the Airmail Station for a while.

Still, not even after the ghost of Thanksgiving stuffing came, Airmail Worker is a no-show.

 

I cover my face, and say to myself, "Maybe my photo is too funny?"

Then a school-boy, riding on his bicycle strides by and yells, "WOW! Are you the little person?"

 

"Yes, is there something wrong with that?" I say to him, feeling a little worried.

 

"Oh, my goodness, IT IS THE LITTLE PERSON!" School-boy suddenly shouts.

 

"WHY?" I stand up taller, and try to face him, head-on.

 

"I want your autograph, because I see your picture around EVERYWHERE," shouts School-boy some more. "EVERYBODY! RUSH HERE! IT'S THE LITTLE PERSON!"

 

By the time I look around me, I can see everyone, from ANYWHERE, EVERYWHERE, crowding around me.

 

I am so surprised because they know who I am, and I feel like an important SOMEONE.

 

"How did you know I was the little person," I ask School-boy.

 

"My teacher, Mr. Strange told me about you!" School-boy says, as he claps his hands, and jumps up and down at the same time.

 

"Who is Mr. Strange?" I ask him in panic.

 

"He is our best teacher in our school, because he is so WEIRD! He tells us stories of important people," School-boy shouts again.

 

The rush of crowd subsides, and I ask School-boy another question, "Does he have brown hair and a spiky-yellow goatee?"

 

"Absolutely! I love my History teacher!" School-boy tells me while shouting again.

 

I can feel my hands shaking, "How did…?" I ask.

 

"Let us show you!" School boy and some people from ANYWHERE, EVERYWHERE lead me to a nearby store. My photo is on the window display!

 

"I had no idea!" I cry to myself with teary eyes.

 

"Go inside, and see the store owner," School-boy takes my hand, and leads me inside the store.

 

Near the back of the store, Airmail worker is talking to a lot of people about a stamp.

 

"It's you!! How did you own a store?" I ask Airmail Worker.

 

"I'm sorry for taking so long to process the form, my life turned upside down," he apologizes.

 

"What about all this? And my stamp? I thought you had gone to process my form?" I ask.

 

Airmail worker answers, "I was stuck in my life, because it turned upside down. My wife passed away.  I could not process your form, because I realized you are not from ANYWHERE, EVERYWHERE, and I could not use your photo as a stamp," Airmail worker says.  "But, I told my Supervisor I am willing to take you, as my son, so I showed him your picture and he believed me. I am very sorry, but I hope you will help me and we can work together," he says, with some disappointment.

 

Mr. Strange walks in, and taps me on my shoulder, "Hey, Stranger," he says.

 

I smile, and say, "I thought you are a HUGE SOMETHING! I was right!" I shake his hands.

 

"I told my kids at school about you," he smiles.

 

"Why?" I ask Mr. Strange, "I am just a little person, from No One."

 

"That's why I told them about you. You are a big person, for pursuing what you love.  Also, for being original and honest," Mr. Strange says.

 

"Thank you, all this time, I thought my plan was wasted.  I was scared," I say to Mr. Strange.

 

Mr. Strange sees Airmail worker, and shakes his hands. "Looks like you've got yourself a friend," says Mr. Strange.

 

"I feel like a SOMEONE already," I say to Airmail Worker.

 

I turn my head to the man with the spiky-yellow goatee who is no longer a stranger, but strange still in his very own right.

 

"Thank you for being honest, and I am happy to have met a friend in life," I say to Mr. Strange.

 

Outside of the store, everyone is taking pictures of us, as I tell them about my adventure. But, all they all want is to take a picture of Mr. Strange. He strikes a pose stroking his goatee and then another one with one hand behind his back and the other on his waist.

 

"This store is mine and yours kid," says Airmail worker to me, and Mr. Strange.

 

From then on, everything I plan and dream of the stamp, made me SOMEBODY. I keep making more stamps of important people in life. There was a woman who sits on a bus to get to her job, and another man who was a President but really really fat, and another woman who sits on a chair but sleeps during a Presidential speech, but she rafts on Sundays and just died in 2019.

 

Meanwhile, in the island of No One…

 

My Father is watching television, and my Mother is eating bread with strawberry jam.

 

I feel lucky I had a plan.

 

Keep pursuing your dreams. The end. Just write. 

Kenzo looked into the mirror in his bathroom, staring at his small slanted black eyes and limp straight black hair. He wondered how his soul was ever chosen to have black, the color of darkness, to be a part of his features.

 

Kenzo was convinced that Caucasians, Latinos and African Americans didn't have to deal with being called "chink," although he was actually Japanese. But, he was pretty sure other races and ethnicities had their struggles. Why did they exist? Those labels? The subject was so deep that Kenzo felt a swirling headache for about five seconds just thinking about it.

 

His skin tone was pinkish pale, with some pimples on his face that looked like tiny volcanoes with pus inside, awaiting some pressure from his two fingertips to erupt. He was holding the temptation. He decided not to press them because there were already some scars from the previously throbbing pimples that he pressed, and they were now dark spots on his face.

 

"I wish I was handsome," he said. All he thought about today was Melody, the dreamy senior he dreamt about last night because she has the most alluring brown eyes and the cutest smile. "She'll never notice me."

 

Kenzo didn't mind being Japanese or even Asian, but he did mind being called "chink" or "gook" or "nip" or "chino" or "trash." The taunts felt like a knife to the core of his heart and soul because he couldn't help to look the way he looked.

 

Jim, his best mate, thought Kenzo had a "dozen" calculators, because Japanese people from Intel created it in the 70s. Kenzo was so afraid of saying, "Nah, that's not true." Kenzo remained quiet because he would rather have Jim thought he was smart and knew about the scientific calculator, instead of finding out he had the lowest grade in math.

 

Kenzo wasn't sure he could accomplish anything, but he sure knew he could possibly fail at everything.

 

"Kenzo, come out. Get some dinner and talk to me," said Maria, his Mom.

 

Maria knew high school was rough on Kenzo, but she won't let him stay silent about his hard days at school.

 

Kenzo came out and sat at the head of the nicely set up dinner table, with a small bowl of rice and a plate of pork cutlets and sautéed seaweed with garlic. "Dinner can't last more than fifteen minutes," Kenzo figured.

 

"So, I have to tell you a story, Kenzo," said Maria. "I never really told you how your Dad and I met."

 

"Yeah. I still love you," he said. His eyes slanted to the left to watch her face, because he understood his mother. As a son of a single Mom, he never expected her to tell him the truth about her past. "I believe everything you told me before."

 

"What did I tell you before?" asked Maria.

 

"That Dad had an affair with his co-worker and he left you in Japan. So, you moved to Hawaii illegally and started to work there and finally got your citizenship," said Kenzo.

 

"Well, I want to change the story a little bit," said Maria.

 

"What do you mean?" Kenzo asked.

 

"What if I tell you that I was pregnant before I got married? And that your Dad married me because I groveled?" asked Maria.

 

"Dad was rich, is that why you groveled?" asked Kenzo. He remembered growing up in a huge house with a Koi pond and his father always played with him in the garden. "You mean to tell me that Dad is not my father?"

 

Shocking life, shocking face, and all this in one day. How would I ever live through this? Kenzo placed his fork down and his eyes were tearing.

 

"No," said Maria. "I was so hurt so bad. I didn't have friends, too. But I made it Kenzo."

 

"Oh God, Mom!" said Kenzo, rolling his eyes. "Is this the truth or one of those hypothetical to make me feel better?"

 

"Both," said Maria. "So, pretend tonight that I groveled to your father and he married me out of fear because he was getting old and limp."

 

"Jesus!" said Kenzo. The phone rang.

 

Kenzo walked to the phone and tapped the 'talk' button. "Yeah, this is the Yashi residence."

 

"Kenzo?" said the darling voice on the phone. "May I speak to Kenzo Yashi for a moment? My name is Melody from his high school."

 

"Melody? Switzer? Is this real?" Kenzo said, accidently saying his thoughts out loud. The same swirling headache from earlier in the evening rushed through his whole head.  He was passing out.

 

"Oh, hi, My name is Melody and I'm the student representative from the Anti-Bullying group at school," said Melody. She sounded nervous.

 

"You're so brilliant," Kenzo uttered. Gasp.

 

"Oh, you're so sweet," said Melody.

 

"Kenzo who is it?" asked Maria, from the dinner table.

 

"Can I help you with anything?" asked Kenzo, walking to the dinner table, sitting back down in front of his mom with his cell phone on one ear.

 

Maria sliced her pork cutlet into small pieces and stared at her son who was smiling from ear to ear.

 

"Must be something good. You're smiling," said Maria. She forked a few strands of garlic seaweed and a pinch of rice.

 

"Jim told me that someone called you a derogatory name today. I want to apologize for that," said Melody. "Jim also wanted to say sorry about the 'calculator' thing. He just wants you to feel better about being who you are."

 

"Jim, he's a good man," said Kenzo. He couldn't believe 'dream brunette' was on his phone line.

 

"So, what are you doing for Christmas this year?" asked Melody.

 

"My Mom and I were just going to go to the nativity show at the Presby church around the corner then go home," said Kenzo.

 

"The Anti-bullying team is having a Christmas party at the Flaggstaff house. Up Baseline Avenue in Boulder," said Melody. "Would you come? It's free. The fundraising team made sure we can invite a date."

 

"A date?" Kenzo asked and tears were hovering in his eyes.

 

Maria choked on her pork cutlet, and asked "Is she cute? Kenzo?" Kenzo raised his index finger to his lips.

 

"Yeah. I know you might want to come if Jim will come too, so I made sure another girl is asking him to come. Care to join me?" she asked.

 

Melody's voice creacked because she understood that being different could cause a lot of heartache. "Just to let you know. I was bullied because a lot of girls are jealous sometimes and I get hurt. So I know how name calling can cause heartaches."

 

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met. Yes! I want to go. Don't change your mind," Kenzo said with a tinge of nerves. "What should I do now? I've never been asked out before."

 

"I never asked anyone out before, either" said Melody.

 

"She sounds like a warrior," said Maria, chewing the rest of the pork cutlet inside her mouth.

 

"You don't have to do anything. Let's talk tomorrow. Come to our meeting on the second floor library," said Melody.

 

"Okay. Let's do that then," said Kenzo.

 

"Okay. I will talk to you later, Kenzo. And...," she said, as she paused for a moment, "I really want to thank you, for not making me feel embarrassed for asking you out and for not rejecting me. I've been hurt before, too. So I think we'll have plenty to talk about."

 

"I know we'll be best friends," said Kenzo. His heart beats a little faster and tears rolled down his cheeks as if his eyes were two leaky faucets. I couldn't believe this just happened, Kenzo couldn't help but to think of this, and replied, "I'll see you tomorrow." They hung up.

 

"So, you have plans this year for Christmas," said Maria. "I will be free to go with my girlfriends and have a girls' nite out." Maria smiled, because finally she wasn't worried about her son feeling alone or horrible during the holidays.

 

"I think that was a Christmas miracle," said Kenzo. He stared at the wall, because he wasn't sure if the whole thing happened at all.

 

"So, a girl just asked you to go on a date, for Christmas," said Maria. "Yep, it happened."

 

"Mom. I love you. I know Dad is Dad and you're my Mom. You don't have to make up stories anymore. I'm going to make things happier. I'll work harder and I'll make better friends. But, Jim is a keeper," said Kenzo.

 

"I thought he was a pot-head. Not true, huh?" said Maria. She smiled.

 

"Christmas isn't going to be a bad day after all," said Kenzo. He took his mother's hand and kissed them. "I love how you make up stories to make me feel good. I love you forever, Mom."

 

"Merry early Christmas, Baby," said Maria.

 

"Merry Christmas, Mom," said Kenzo.

There was a small fly on the trash can beside the door, inside the lunch room of some random place of work.

 

"Why is it just sitting there?" John said.

 

"Don't know, it's chillin'," said George.

 

"How come we always want to kill 'em? Them flies?" asked John.

 

"Well....look at it, it's on a trash can, why not kill it?" said George.

 

"Well, isn't it a sin?" asked John.

 

"I wanna kill you sometimes, but is not a sin," said George.

 

"What you mean you want to kill me? Because I'm askin' about some fly? What you getting at?" confronted John.

 

"Why you ask such dumb questions? Why is a fly just sittin' there. Why can't you do some work for a change," he said. George got angry.

 

"I'm working. I'm here aren't I? It's called asking an intelligent question. You know…questions, meant to be discussed," said John.

 

They looked at the fly and it was still there, chillin' according to George.

 

"Let's kill it," said John.

 

"Why you gotta kill everything? This is why I should kill you, maybe you should stop bullyin' some small fly and start workin' and stop rollin' that paper," said George.

 

John took a piece of paper from the kitchen table and tried to hit the fly with the rolled paper, as George tried to stop it. They wrestled each other, trying to kill a fly and what looked like a simple discussion turned into a fight.

 

"Why can't you leave them flies alone? Anti-violence," said George.

 

"It's a fly! Let me do it!" yelled John, because his manliness somehow could diminish if the fly wasn't dead in a few seconds.

 

Their boss, Olaf, walked in. He asked them, "What's this kerfuffle? I'm writing both of you up because you're wrestling in the kitchen."

 

John grabbed the rolled piece of paper, and tried to kill the fly, but he missed. George slapped John on the back of his head and Olaf saw him.

 

"Nevermind, you're both fired. I told you to stop, but you didn't acknowledge me," said Olaf.

 

"What? It's just a fly and a small argument. Why did you fire me?" asked John.

 

George slapped John on the back of his head, then John punched George on his face so hard that John fell down and almost passed out.

 

"You know, it don't mean much, but it felt good. I'm on the same side of the fly," said George.

 

"You're a stupid crazy man! It's just a fly," said John, trying to get back on his feet.

 

Olaf, the boss, wiped the trash can and the fly was stuck to the piece of paper. He looked at the fly closely on the paper and thought it was already dead.

 

"Hahahahah....," Olaf laughed at them so loud because the fly didn't fly at all, until it did, into his mouth.

 

Gulp, Olaf swallowed it.

 

"Oooo...that's embarrassin'," said John.

 

"Yea, it sure is," said George.

 

"Don't you ever tell anyone!" Olaf said, throwing the paper into the trash.

 

"You bet," said George. "But, we need our jobs back." George nodded once and kept his chin to his chest and smiled. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

 

"Promise Boss," said John, smiling a tender smile.

 

Olaf clenched his teeth, and walked out of the lunch room in slight irritation and a bad mood.

 

"Wasn't our fault," said John to George.

 

"It's in intestines heaven now," George replied.

 

The end. Just write.

The Father knows his flock, and His arms are wide as the width of the universe encasing me in His love. The Father knows my life and there is nothing he doesn't understand about me, as I talk to Him in my days and nights, even in my sleep. My Father on Earth knows Him and my Father in heaven approves of his love for me. On a snowy evening, I visit him to see how he smiles at me as snowflakes falls on my face. 

 

My time with my Father on Earth and in Heaven are the means to my life, as they both teach me humility with mercy and grace. Troubles in the past, I tell them both, with honesty not fear. When I am afraid of their judgement, I ask my Father on Earth if my Father in heaven will be ashamed of me, and my Father on Earth stops for a moment and tells me, if he is on Earth then he will not, but unconditional love forgives the past. 

 

Moments of futile sadness that comes during loneliness from wrong steps, I tell them both. My Father on Earth tells me that I am His Princess and his alone and no one can change the fact and I am with him. With embrace they both hold me and they always remind me I am their beautiful daughter and their opinions ranks highest in my life. 

 

There will never be a moment when I forget my Father on Earth or in Heaven, because I love them deeply. I don't care if either of them grows old and weary, I am here and will never leave. 

 

Just write.

As Karina let go of her hug for Pearsons Rockfield, Giuseppe Baptiste uttered, "You have to allow the world to enjoy your blessings, your belongings, your favors, your body, your soul! It is called generosity."

 

"My body and its systems are not public property. I hold the human rights to reserve it, " said Karina. "I will help the world, but you will have to respect me and everyone else."

 

"You've been abused and exploited before, why not let everyone take some. You're a lowly commoner now," said Giuseppe Baptiste.

 

Pearsons Rickfield stood next to him and sucked on his thumb, then said, "C'mon, Karina, give them some."

 

My Father, Sean O'Connor, replied, "I once dated a woman who was assaulted and she was ostracized much like Karina is now, and there was no help from you nor The New Order. It was unjust. You have to realize that everyone has a sovereign right and human rights, and you shouldn't intrude into their privacy or break personal boundaries, controlling their personal lives, sex, dating, jobs, and how they shop."

 

My mind went back to the bacon products for Tier 1, and how Karina wanted some and would probably never have any if she wasn't allowed to shop that Tier with freedom. "Why can't we all shop all the Tiers?" I asked.

 

"Well....well...well....if it wasn't the Econ Professor who didn't graduate high school, yet. It's all about Taxes. The more you pay, the more privilege you get. It's that simple," said Pearsons Rockfield. 

 

No wonder the celebrities and the famous and rich have all of the luxuries and power in life. The government felt they pay more taxes monetarily, but lacked the understanding that they created more violence than normal. Their influence, power, money and access to commit crimes and violence proved corruptions, and Pearsons Rockfield and Giuseppe Baptiste supported The Choi Militia and The Black Mollies. 

 

"You mean to tell me, you allow your company to harm others, because they pay more taxes?" asked Rambo. "What about how they created more sins, abuses, crimes, injustice, assaults, homelessness, mental illness, and so many more burdens to society? They are the negative in this positive world. Wait, you've also made it into a pessimists' nirvana!"

 

"Insult! Such insults! How dare you? Must I remind you that I am the priest of The New Order? Of course I understand vice!" said Pearsons Rockfield. Giuseppe Baptiste held his cheeks with his palms.

 

"Wait, hold up, wait my sire!" Giuseppe Baptiste said to Pearsons Rockfield. "You mean, you did all this because you cared about money and power? I thought it was your devotion to me?!" Giuseppe Baptiste acted as the sap he was, absolutely vain and devoid of self-awareness.

 

"You are both disrespectful to the common man and woman and children, and those are the population who we need in this world," said Karina. "We as human beings, and especially you both, have to realize the need for boundaries, retaining one's soul, heart, mind, and personal space, family, heritage, culture, values, hopes, and the pursuit of one's right for happiness."

 

"And, where did you learn this human law?" asked Giuseppe Baptiste. "I was educated by The Trinity College." 

 

"She's a genius, Giuseppe," said Rambo. "Karina's been harmed much more than normal and with that, she was gifted the knowledge to defend herself. It's her powerful mind, the only reasons she was found alive under a bridge."

 

"This....this ...creature was under a bridge? You mean she lived like a rat?" asked Pearsons Rockfield, his right hand touching Karina's hair, and then pulling it away immediately as if Karina was infested with fleas. "Giuseppe, promise you won't wander down near the gutter."

 

"My dear, nowhere near the gutter unless you are with me," said Giuseppe Baptiste.

 

Noises of loud murmuring came from behind them, at the other side of the park where the center stage of the recital was located on Capital Grounds. There was a commotion, and the loudness became audible as it revealed itself as chantings from local Denverites raising The New Order flag into a braided yarn in the shape of a pretzel on sticks, held up and down, as the crowd raised a movement.

 

"By Jove, you brought your friends!" yelled Pearsons Rockfield.

 

"What sort of delusional plans did you just uncovered, Democratic Zealots!" Giuseppe Baptiste screamed.

 

"We didn't call anyone, and where are your body guards?" asked Rambo. I shoved Rambo and covered his mouth, to prevent the priests from calling their men. They took out a whistle from their pockets, and blew it and raised their arms to men across the street, but it was too late.

 

"Reform! Reform! We demand REFORM! It is the age of REFORMATION! YOU SHALL NOT DENY IT! Long Live Democracy!" chanted the crowd of Denverites. 

 

A woman came to my Father, and asked him," Are you, Sean O'Connor?" My Father aghast because she knew his name, and answered, "Yes, do you need to ask me a question? Who are you?"

 

 

"My name is Madeline, but you can call me "MAD," she said. She took her pretzel flag that was made of the braided New Order flag, and handed it to my Father. "I got a call from Dana. He's an old friend of mine, from college, and he forwarded me the recording. It was a private message, but I announced it to the public. This has to be publicized!" 

 

My Father gasped and we heard him took a breath and stepped back. "I didn't know Dana planned to do this," said my Father.

 

"Too late, these priests are corrupt!" said MAD.

 

Giuseppe Baptiste and Pearsons Rockfield hugged each other tight as they said, "We deserve to live! All the women in our pasts harmed us, and now everyone is angry we are the BENEVOLENT LEADERS of the FREE WORLD!"

 

MAD looked to them, and said, "Perjury! Both of you! You both lied! It wasn't heartbreak! It was all abuse of power!" She yelled to their face, as Karina was also afraid of the huge crowd of people, protesting REFORMATION!

 

The body guards from across the street were barricaded, and they were tied by the pretzel shaped flags, in two by twos. 

 

MAD demanded, "Announce Reform! Because in one minute, Dana's recording will be on the screens of solarized billboards with graphics capabilities, all over the world. Remember? You called those, Magical Inventions, because you controlled the pictures and the advertisements on them for your pleasure, and not to help the people."

 

Pearsons Rockfield and Giuseppe Baptiste both cried, and touched foreheads. They touched their cheeks, and told each other, "No matter what happens, we are in this together."

 

"You're both allowed to love, and it's not about that. It's about your abuse of powers," said Karina. "It's about the deaths you caused and the assaults you supported. You've also helped the violence to proliferate in the lives of others. That's what this is about."

 

Pearsons Rockfield and Giuseppe Baptiste held each other's arms, "I knew one day, the good days will be gone, and we have to become commoners again."

 

"Oh my GOD!!! You just wanted to become Royals, too?" said Rambo. "You are so stupid. Why didn't you just introduce yourself at one of their events?"

 

Pearsons Rockfield and Giuseppe Baptiste looked at Rambo, and Pearsons said, "Well....because their house would still belong to them."

 

"Why me? Why assault me?" asked Karina, with tears in her eyes, as she gasped for air realizing these two bastards were mongrels and cruel animals hungry for money and authority, with no remorse for humanity.

 

"Because we can," said Giuseppe Baptiste, as Pearsons Rockfield added, "Because we will have more umph!"

 

Karina dropped to her knees, sobbing. I realized this was brutal to her soul, and she didn't deserve any of their nonsense.

 

I held her shoulders, and said to her, "The uncivilized did wrong. My Father and I will walk with you." Karina hugged me, as my Father came to her, and caressed her black silky hair.

 

"I'm so sorry!" said Pearsons Rockfield. "How do you stop them?" Both men were afraid for their lives, because their body guards were held down and tied into a knot.

 

We all ignored them, letting the crowd of people to come closer to have them.

 

Just write.

The ocean is so vast inside my mind as its darkness escapes the real sunlight in my eyes. The vision is full of a foggy midnight and it hurts inside me with the suffering deepens as memories of each stab compounds over my soul. Each knife that enters my skin and the surface of my body feels bloody and it destroys my days. The surrounding in my life becomes moist with tears as I recall the faces of those who hurt me in the past, coming back to surface with the spurts of blood.

 

Each fraudulent charge into my account where I save my life is now game for them, the criminals who steals. It hurts me that they resort to crimes to gain blessings and favors to have riches. I never make any jokes about my heritage or exploit another for their ancestry, but their labels leads the world to stab and abuse to get everything they desire to play with my mind. I am so happy I am stronger than their abuse and I will keep working and take evidence seriously. Criminals should be put to justice and they are no exceptions. It is time. They have to leave because I did nothing wrong to their lives, instead they hurt mine, with glee.

 

This time they take some, and next time, they might take my all, my life and my whole being. I don't want to be casualty of their war. They have to leave because the ocean becomes deep and I know they want me to drown and become a victim once more. I don't deserve it. Never! I will not fear!

 

Just write.

Forgiveness is constant as I make it a habit with a dose of salt thrown over my shoulder. The man with an ambitious goal, and a jealous streak, lurking at each corner asking for information and reasons to hate, he deserves forgiveness. The woman with an annoying laugh who dislikes you and wants everything in her power to control your destiny despite your plea for her to stop and let it be, she deserves forgiveness.

 

I find that the more I practice even with the smaller details, it helps to lead me to forgive for the assaults, bullying, abuses and harassments. Excruciatingly difficult for me too, but the girl at the sandwich line doesn't mean for you to consume that much mayonnaise and it isn't her fault you hate white lard. Probable cause lingers in my mind of why the people who doesn't want me to have love will always try to sabotage it, but I finally let it go, and let it be, and let God. Surrendering is often the best medicine and I just don't ask for anymore harm from others by making it easier for them to hurt me. There are laws, and I am protected.

 

Forgiveness has to be done first even if the guilty doesn't know. I can just forgive and let them be and not be hard on myself and my conscience to cause me more anxiety. It is so fluid, and it helps me through, letting them be in the arms of God, and away from my dancing space. I forgive because I don't want anymore traumas. If I don't forgive, it is inside my chest and it lives there forever, as I become bitter and lose my tastebuds. The senseless pain doens't add up to healing or pleasure, because I become the victim once more. 

 

Forgiveness, an art that might take a lifetime, so I'm starting now.

 

Just write.