Let’s Not…

“You knew you had to do this. It was listed in your job description,” she said plainly and actually quite harshly.

“Shut up. I know it was, but I was hoping I could take myself out of having to in the end. I was hoping I could dump all of my part onto my assistant. That’s what he is for!…to do the things I don’t want to, without hesitation,” than with an afterthought I knew that is ridiculous and untrue…

“You know that’s not what…”

“I know, I just thought the same thing. But I was just speaking it hoping it would magically come true.”

“So, have you planned out what you are gonna do? Or are you just going to wing it?” she said with a hint of humor. Probably because she knows me so well.

“Are you kidding me. I have prepared several different things to say, and I have many flash cards with reminders so I don’t look like an idiot up there. I am jealous though that my assistant will be sitting in the audience just smiling up at me making me feel more uncomfortable. I know he does that just because I hate it.”

“Oh, I know he does. He tells me he sits front a center just to humiliate you.  He also says that when you are extremely nervous you turn the color of a ripe tomato. I wish I could see it, because that is actually my favorite color!” She says with a loud chuckle.

“Well, you are not allowed to come. I already am nervous enough. You could just have drinks with me afterwards to drink away my misery and shame.”

“I am all for that job, and the first round is on me!”

“Thank you.” Gathering up my belongings, bracing myself to stand up. “Well, here I go to make a complete fool out of myself. It wouldn’t be so bad, except their parents will also be in the audience. So they will be staring at me, with their judgement filled eyes, and will be debating if I am suited to coach their children.”

“You made your athletes way faster than the year before. They should only be proud of you, because some of those kids might swim in college. Just be brave, and believe in yourself.”

“Thanks Sis. See ya in about two hours for that drink.” I stand up and exit.

“And Cut!” the director calls.


Naked with Black Socks


“What did you do?…I went…”

Entry #1

The year is 2007. I am excited for high school. I have prepared every day of my existence through junior high to be the most successful student.  I worked my butt off to be the person with the highest grade, and I will be the person in the year book labeled as, “The Most Successful”…that is my true dream. The moment I came into the classroom I took the front and center desk in front of the teacher. I wanted the teacher to know I was serious about my studies. This is going to be the best year ever!


Entry #2

The year is still 2007, but it is now half way through the semester. High school is so much harder than junior high. There are so much extra homework. There are several clubs, that you can join if you want to succeed, which I do. So I signed up for every club. However, I want to be the best, so I must keep up my studies and work harder then ever…


Entry #3

The year is…I don’t care…


Entry #4



Entry #5

I don’t know why I am even keeping this journal anymore. There is no point to recording my progress if it won’t matter anyways….Oh, right, now I remember why I am keep this…so that I can write a list of people I hate!










Entry #6

The year is 2012. All I feel is pain. My head is swimming, and my eyes are dull. Crying seems to take even more energy from me than I normally have. There is no point in crying…crying won’t solve anything. I am no longer in high school and I have no path I desire to attempt. I just want to curl up into a ball and live forever in my bed. But, even that carefree dream is impossible.

Entry #7

The year is 2013. I have decided to try; there is no point in waiting for something that might not come. I should live life and experience everything and anything. Now I will use this journal for a new purpose. It will contain my bucket-list. 1) skydiving 2) ride on motorcycle 3) go to Paris 4) visit Hawaii 5) own my dream car 6) sing in public 7) volunteer for something important 8) help build a house for someone 9)…I will continue to write down things I want to do…


Entry #8

The year is 2014. Today was not a great day. I went skydiving for the first time and I thought I would die. I wanted to die as I stood on the edge of that plane, the gust of winds kept pushing my body towards the inside. I should listened to the wind and not have jumped. But I did…It was exhilarating and amazing, but I am good only doing it once. Next thing here I come….


Entry #9

The year is 2016. I have done almost everything on my list. However, all I have is visit Hawaii and sing in public. However, I was told today I would not be permitted to travel anymore. My days have gotten shorter and I sleep more and more. I feel like I am again in the plane and the wind is knocking me over with way more force. So Hawaii is not happening yet, but maybe in the future.


Entry #10

The year is 2017. I am ready to finish my list. I want to experience every moment like it is a roller coaster, swinging me in every direction without knowing what will happen next. Whether I will climb up farther, or I will drop down to a point I can’t survive without a scream of fear.  So I only have left is to sing. Which is my greatest fear. I will go out somewhere tomorrow,where I know nobody and feel accomplished for a moment.


Entry #11

Same year. I choose today, because it is November 20th, 2017. Today is my birthday, and I am turning 24 years old. I know I am being selfish, that I want my birthday this year all to myself, but I won’t get another chance to sing on my birthday as a 24 year old. I told my family we would celebrate together tomorrow, but that I wanted to sing to an audience that didn’t know me. I chose one of my favorite country songs, Live Like You Are Dying, by Tim McGraw.


Entry #12

My performance was okay I guess. Everyone cheered and there was not a dry eye by the end. I have completed what I set out to do. I am sitting at the back table writing in my journal. I began this journal excited and hoping to be successful…which I have been. I called up my family and told them what I did and how great I feel that I completed something. They all wish me a Happy Birthday. I can hear the love and caring in their voices. “I love you guys so much!” I yell into the phone before hanging up. I collect my belongings to exit back into reality of life. Sitting in that booth against the back wall I recall what I have done so far… I may not have been a wealthy person, I might have not been successful in the eyes of others, but I lived life. Just like the lyrics I just sang a moment ago. This is the last thing I will write in my journal before leaving…I LOVE EVERYONE…including myself.


Entry #13

To whomever reads this journal?

The year is 2018. My darling little girl kept this journal a secret from us. I only discovered it that day at the karaoke bar. I am so proud of my daughter; I don’t regret anything that has happened in her life, as well as mine. If you have finished every entry up until this one you have a clear understanding of who my darling was. She was brave, honest, caring, loving, and outgoing. When the doctor told us she wouldn’t live past her 25th birthday everyone’s lives paused. Hers more than anyone. We supported her best we could but she decided one day to just live. The song she sang that night will always be my anthem. I will live life as if there is no tomorrow. I miss her terribly; her whole family does. However, we are still able to give her that missing piece, even as she rests in heaven. Her essence lives forever in us, and as we walk through Hawaii’s landscapes she will experience it too. I give the gift of completion; she will live eternally, even though I can’t see her, I know it’s true.



This Is Your Song

A Normal Day…Great…

Sun bathing on the beach in a cute new suit. I have nothing to do; I am now a carefree person. I just want to live in this exact spot and never move. I feel the warmth from the  sand as I trickle it through my fingers. It cascades back down onto itself. I hear the waves brushing against the coast. Its soothing sound makes me want to sleep forever. I am at peace…

“What time is it?” curious because I never have beautiful dreams. My hand stumbles around in search of my phone: my source of time, but it is also my alarm. I must have slept very well last night that I am waking up before it goes off. “That is awesome!” I think about giving myself a pat on my back.

Success, I found my phone. Pulling it close to my face as I gaze at it, I read…7:15 A.M….

“WHAT!?! My alarm didn’t go off. I am going to be late!” I push back the covers and sprint to the bathroom….but I can’t take a shower. I don’t have time. I have to be in class in twenty minutes. “Great. Today I will smell bad.”

Instead I head downstairs to waken myself with the best part of my morning…coffee…

“WHAT!?!” it’s all gone. “Why family did you need all the coffee?” shaking my fist at the ceiling. Thankfully they are all gone, because of this…”AHHHHHH!” I scream out of frustration. “Now I will have to make some. At least mom bought the pot that only takes six minutes to brew. Thank you Mom.”

My brain is cursing at me, because it needs its coffee. I am going to die…coffee…cabinets…must find coffee…coff…

“WHAT!?!” No grounds! No beans! No nothing. I want to cry….

Well screw this. Now I only have twelve minutes to get ready without my beautiful coffee. “This is going to be the worst day ever…”

Stumbling back upstairs to change clothes,“Well at least I get to wear a cute outfit with my new jacket at school. All my friends will be jealous. Where is it?” I was smart and prepared it yesterday, so I won’t have to think of what to wear. Destroying my room I pull up every piece of clothing more than once…”Where is it? I put in on my chair next to my bed…

Instead of my amazing jacket and outfit, there lies a paper…a note…from mom…

“Honey, I sent your jacket and clothes to the dry-cleaners because, don’t get mad, I spilled my coffee on them. So for it to not get ruined I rushed all of it there for you. I’m sorry my sweetheart. Mom.”

…”AHHHHH! WHY!?!” tearing up that paper with all of my anger so I don’t do something I will regret.

I throw on whatever, because I don’t care anymore. I smell terrible, no beautiful coffee, and now no cute outfit…great… I look like a nomad…with my sweatpants, striped shirt, crocks for shoes (because I can’t find my tennis shoes…), and a scarf swallowing up my face. Hopefully it hides my identity…

I have eight minutes to get to school, at least it only takes me six. “Oh right! I forgot!” recalling the new CD I purchased yesterday. “At least I get to listen to this great music on the worst day ever.” I gather up my backpack, my older brother’s puffy jacket (its cold outside, and the CD. Push the garage door open…

“WHAT!?!” my car is gone! I run to the front in search of my car. It’s nowhere to be seen. “The keys…they should be in the garage…” sprinting back to the door.

A note…from dad…

“Dear Lizzy, I am sorry for not telling you this before, but I need your car. The mechanic called and they accidentally put the wrong part in your car. I should have woken you up, but you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb you. Love Dad.”

…”Nooooo!” I grab my gear together and I run towards school. Now with only five minutes to go I am for sure going to be late. “Whatever…”

I can’t breathe…gasping for air, but it seems like there is no air in my vicinity…Everything is blurry and now I smell like sleep sweat and sweat sweat…I’ll make sure to stay hidden today. I am late; therefore, I have to do the sad walk to the office to receive my pass to my class.

“I need a pass…” thankfully they were too busy to acknowledge my outfit and hopefully my smell. I trudge through the halls wanting to die. I don’t want anyone to see me. I should have just stayed home and “been sick”. However, I pull that door open and all the students are lined up awaiting…

Pictures… “IT”S PICTURE DAY!!! NOOOOOOO!” I want to run out of that room and make up my picture tomorrow.

Instead, “Oh, Lizzy you are here. Please come to the front of the line and take your photo. After you will need to write me an apology for your lateness.”

I very much dislike this teacher. But I do as she says and I make my way there. The whispers and giggles start and they continuously get louder. Not trying to be considerate.

I sit in front of the photographer, and his face says it all… “What happened to you?”

Great…this is the worst day ever. Slept in, No shower, no beautiful coffee, no cute clothes, no car, running sweat, and now picture…

“Okay,” the photographer says as he prepares himself for the worst picture ever, “One…Two…Three……….”

Nothing happens, and I stop my smile for a brief second to ask what’s wrong…

“Smile!” flash of light. “Next!”




Just Another Day


Journeys are long and hard.

They can end sadly

Or just plainly.

Nothing can be done.

Nothing can be said.

But continue on.

Journeys are part of life.

You struggle.

You drive.

You continue.

You thrive.

But all can fail.

Life continues on.

Journeys reveal new journeys

A door can close,

Just use the window.

Discover a new way.

Never give up.

Just continue.

And pray.

A Story: Part 6

A Story: Part 5

The sun is blistering hot, as it drives into my bare skin. The breeze from the far ocean spills over me soothing my blistered flesh. I stretch across the blanket and…

I’m awake.“Where am I? What day is it? Has time even gone by?” Then I’m gone again.

“Janey…Janey…janey…” David just keeps mumbling to me as I lay here in despair.

“Shut up, David!” silence, and I’m gone again.

I shiver as I come closer to the glistening beautiful water. It almost sings to me, inviting me to its break. The sand beneath my feet is damp but warm still. It squeaks as I bury my feet deeper into its existence. Someone is coming closer…

My eyes open. Questions pour into my subconscious, “Why again? What is my life? What is the meaning of me? They said they wanted me; that I was the key to their existence? But why?” My mind is swirling, and if I open my eyes it will be worse, because the air surrounding me is chaos. The only way for it to stop is sleep. I’m gone again.

“Danny…Danny…”I picture his adorable face as my hand brushes a material beneath me… “Danny!” I leap from my bed, but the searing pain smacks me back down onto my bed. My head is spinning; I shut my eyes trying to contain the nausea. I can feel my heartbeat race, not seeming to be slowing down.  “Danny…”I try to stand, but the movement makes me throw-up across my bedspread. Small dribbles of goop cover my legs.

I need to know if my dream was a dream, but I cannot move. My eyes feel like they are glued shut. My arms and legs weigh a million pounds making it impossible for me to rise. I still can only hear my heartbeat…and a small pulse beating in time to my heart…”

“What?” The ever so quiet, minimalist pulse, vibrating upon my wrist. I remember the small flower, unclear of its true color. Attempting to bring my wrist into view, I pull aside Danny’s blanket…

“Danny!” This time I gradually pull myself out of bed and attempt to walk to my door. The room is spinning, but I must know the truth. I brace my arms on any firm object within reach, opening my door. It swings open with a whine and a cloud of dust engulfs my presence. Dust…? I travel down the corridor and every door is closed, but the doors seem untouched. Cobwebs covering their door-frames, like no one has been here for months. The air is musky and thick. I smell burnt wood with a mixture of dirt and sweat. I hear nothing, but moving down this hallway reminds me of the past screams that would torture my sleep. My legs almost sweep underneath me, I catch myself before continuing on. One more door…

“Danny…”his door is also closed, but it seems clean except for the scratch marks wrapping around the knob, like something was desperately trying to get in. “Danny…” The knob is cold as ice, and there are sharper edges now. It won’t open, the door is glued shut. “Danny…? Are you there,” I whisper hoping for an answer. Knowing there wouldn’t be one…

There was a sound. Like someone was trying to slide along the floor in short snip movements…

“Danny!” This time I raise my voice a bit. I plaster the side of my head to the door straining to listen.

Again, a sound.

The door won’t open. I kick it to see if it will budge. Nothing. If I ram my full force into it, I don’t know if I will be able to survive the pain or the headache…But Danny…Danny is worth it.

Preparing myself…Ram! Nothing happens, and the pain shoots through my shoulder to my head. The headache is bearable but the searing pain is troublesome. I won’t be able to survive that too many more times. Again…Ram! The door shifted…but the pain is worse,  and I am beginning to see dark spots. Again the small, faint noise exits the room. “Stay where you are…Danny. I don’t know…what will…happen to the…door.” I don’t know if he caught any of that, because my words seemed to slur from the dizziness. The noise stopped.

I think I can only survive once more. However, one more shove won’t help me succeed…pondering…thinking with a dizzy head is not helpful. I need a longer runway. The opposite door! The room across from his room is almost dead on. Without hesitation or conflict I open the door…

There lies a baby doll covered in dark goo…I do not need a closer look to know, because of the smell…they’re gone. The bed is upturned and every object is torn to pieces and flung around the room. Claw marks have painted this room’s walls, causing it to look like it’s in motion.

“Why am I here? Danny…Do I want to open that door? Do I need to know what I already guess…?” The tears come and clouds my eyesight even more. I cannot see it…I do not want to see this…

But that noise! There is someone in there and even if it is not Danny I must help them. I wander to the opposite wall bracing my stance. I look towards the corridor, sizing up the huge door blocking my path. My legs are shaking, and I only have this last chance…Danny…then I go.

My legs are burning, and my head swells; I see the door in front of me. I square my shoulder to the wood and RAM! Pain, tears, clouds, and then darkness. My eyes flutter open, and I am hanging halfway through the door. The wood only shattered around my body, but the door still hangs firm. I shift to see better but my shoulder…!

I can feel it, but I also cannot feel it; it’s like I have no shoulder at all. Ignoring the room for a moment, I look to the knob. There is a screwdriver driven into its lock, like someone had attempted to escape by unlocking the door. Probably without knowing our doors have no lock, they locked themselves in.

There is no noise. But I also really cannot hear because of the ringing pain in my ears. And my cloudy conscious blocking out noise. Danny…

I maneuver my body so that I can reach through the opening to grab the screwdriver. It’s wedged in pretty well, but thankfully only one arm is dead to me. I grasp it, yank it, it is freed. However, I lose my composure, I topple over myself, fall through the opening, land on my head and shoulders, and collapse onto the floor inside the room.  Bigger headache, and now matching shoulder of pains.

“Danny…Dann…” words will not escape my mouth…I cannot feel anything, except the pulsing. It’s louder now, pounding in my ears.

“Scoot…” The noise…I can’t see anything. This room is darker than the other; it is almost total blackness. “Squeak…” something is traveling towards me, at its slow but unwavering pace. “Squeak………….squeak………..squeak….” It has no words.

An eerie sensation travels down my spine. Goosebumps sprout over my arms and legs. The hairs stand on ends. The small pulse on the wrist heightens and my throat slowly closes. “It’s only Danny. Relax.” I say to myself trying to make myself breath again.

“Danny?” I say into the void.

“Squeak………..squeak……….squeak……….”Its body rubbing against the plywood, each time louder and more forceful than the one before.

Only slightly I hear a low wheezing breath breaking into the silence. I don’t know if it is louder or not, because my ears are ringing in fear. The noise continues, and it seems only a few feet from me. It stops suddenly. Only a hushed chill lingers between us.

Nothing…“Danny?” I whisper afraid of the…


The door breaks off its hinges and a figure lunges into the room. With searing pain, I fling myself out of the way. Then cram my pain-filled head between my arms trying to disappear. Pain is shooting over my entire body, but centered on my arm. I hear the scuffle, but the noises are dwindling in and out. “Dan…n…y” I try, but can’t speak. Then all is black.

Never Quite Done…

Kick It

“Why, why, why?” I cannot seem to get this right. Why can I accomplish my other goals but not this one? I was able to go skydiving, falling without control. To travel to Paris and see the wonderful beautiful art. I was able to walk through the terrifying, dark shark tunnel at Sea World. I was able to dance the tango with a partner in a competition. I rode on the back of a motorcycle with my arms stretched out embracing the wind. I sang in front of an audience with judges; along with other things I have accomplished. However, this one is the hardest…I guess I will skip this one and move on to the next, which is number 12…survive a triathlon…

Time has passed, and I have accomplished everything on my list…everything…that’s a lie. There is still that one lingering goal I cannot and will not do. That would be embarrassing if it was not reciprocated. Anyways I have a great life. I have been courageous in every other outlook of my life. I have strived to be the best in my field, and I have gained the highest award…Boss. I am the boss of my own company; I earned every second, and I would not take any moment back…would I? No, every moment has been magical in its own way.  I accomplished 19 out of the 20 goals…that is an ‘A’. I have an ‘A’ in life goals and as well in life. My life is complete and I will live contently and happily to the limit!

Heartbreak, after heartbreak, after heartbreak. I have given my heart to every man that has loved me, but in the end they always break me. Again we danced, we ate dinner, we laughed the night away, and then the moment of which I thought he would love me he pulled away. The distance grew. Why do they keep pulling away? I give them everything my heart can give. I love them unconditionally without ever going too far. Why can I not find true love in this empty land? My heart is whole, and it is mine to give, but they pull away leaving me feeling empty and forsaken.

“Happy Birthday!” they all scream for me. I am 25 years old and I feel no different. I am living life as I have done through my many days. I have experienced much and I continue without truly knowing where I am going. But I continue. I search the room looking into all these faces and I see nothing. I feel nothing. Every hug I receive I feel nothing…Why do I…


Across the room stands someone I thought I would never see again. They look the same; they have grown taller and…more handsome. His eyes…he catches my stare and heads towards me. I can feel the warmth grow in my cheeks, and I imagine I look like a tomato with arms. I look to the floor trying to calm my face, as a pair of shoes enter my space. I look upwards and there is the smile that has always warmed my heart. His eyes are closed but I can feel the happiness in his face. “Hello,” I mumble out as I can barely speak.

His eyes open, those beautiful green eyes, “Hello.” And he brings me into a comforting embrace. And I feel everything.

We wander outside to relieve our faces of the warmth. The air is chilly and it soothes my burnt red cheeks. We sit on a wall facing the ocean. The waves crashing against the coast matches my heartbeat. He is sitting right next to me with his eyes closed soaking in the air. There is a small hint of blush still within his cheeks, making him more radiant than before…if possible…

“Happy Birthday” he whispers still with his eyes closed, but his fingers intertwining with mine.

“Thank you,” is all I can say without the tears spilling down my face. Years have passed, but it seems like only days. The warmth of his fingers sends electricity through my veins. I feel my heartbeat soar, and I worry he can feel my pulse through my fingers.


“Hmm…” he turns my way and his beautiful green eyes seem to pierce my soul.

“Do you remember how you helped me with my bucket-list?”

“Yes. Did you ever finish it entirely? Those were some good times.” His smile grew to fit his entire face. His eyes slowly drift back to the ocean, but his hand still holds mine. “Why?”

“I never did my number 11…I was not brave enough to complete them all…” tears welling up inside me.

His arm wraps around me, and he pulled me close. “Well I am here now, I can help you with that troublesome 11. What is it?”

I bury my head into his shoulder, wanting to soak up as much of him as possible… “You. You were my number 11.”



My Favorite

The girl stepped away from her precious home and turned toward the unknown. She understood this would not be forever, and what she was doing was for a good cause. Someone outside of her immediate family needed attention, and she would willingly give it to them if it would help them feel better. She piled her overflowing belongings into her small silver car and then she slammed the trunk shut. She gazes back at the house that has cared and loved her for many years, filled with her family, and she steps into her automobile and drives off.

A month has passed in this new house, and she craves the love she has left. This girl sits in her bed centered in a large room; she has no one near her and she feels alone. There is sadness. She misses her other home dearly.  But she also recognizes the good she is doing in this new home, which she has known since childhood. Still she yearns to return while her heart continues to call out. She collapses into deep sleep, clouded with whispers of tears.

Days pass, and the girl continues her good work. She does this work out of love; the love for family. However, she still feels lonely. She has always been surrounded by  unconditional love, but now in her moments of free time she is alone. She has no dislike towards this house which needs her, but she wants to be in her real home.

Weeks, it has been almost two months and she has hit her breaking point. She dreads another night alone. She dreads another meal alone. She dreads another night where she will not hug someone she loves goodnight. She dreads not saying, “I love you” in person, because she has for these two months said it through text. Of course the work she has done has been highly needed and extremely wanted, but she feels she needs to return home. There were some good times in this new house, but the ache for her home is a greater need.

“Good bye, Grandma. I am sorry for leaving before you are better, but…”

“All is fine my dear. You have been the greatest ‘at home nurse’ I could have asked for,” the loving old woman says as she pulls her in. Whispering into her ear, “I understand who you need…go…”

With tear filled eyes she hugs her grandma back and runs to her car. She travels away from this temporarily house and back to her true home. She pulls up to the curb and there outside the front door stands the woman she needed most. Mother.

Sickness…take a pause…

I wouldn’t say I didn’t believe my mother when she said she was sick, it was more I didn’t understand the level of sickness she was having to endure. But now as I lay in my bed and attempt to write this post I feel the headache coming back to me. So sorry mom if I seemed at all humorous to you when you were in bed, because now I must endure the slow recovery to my normal health.

Have you ever said to yourself, “You are not sick. Just believe you are fine and the sickness will not be there.” Well In the past I told myself this for years. When I swam, my coach would tell me the same thing, “if you don’t want to be sick, then tell yourself you are not.” Easier said then done, however if worked perfectly fine for her. She said she would only allow herself to be sick in the Summer, because she only had coaching. I however swam year round and my only vacations were holidays, and I wanted those times to be with family, not in bed. So constantly pushing myself to not be sick, just made me extremely sick when my body couldn’t take it anymore. Which is why I think my body sometimes shuts down. It is telling me I need a rest and I should take a couple days.

For the past 2 years I have not experienced that shutdown. I believe it is because I have one less stressful thing in my life. As much as I love and miss swimming, I think it was the best thing for me to stop. Yes, I might have been able to make it to the Olympics or even just Olympic trials, but I would have never been able to experience life through my twenties. So getting injured, even though I thought my life was over, was the beginning of my true self.

It’s funny how when you have time, even “being sick time”, that you can look deeper into your life. You see the things you cherish more, and you discover what truly matters to yourself. Family, friends, art, dancing, love, work, etc. I have much to cherish, and without stopping and pausing ever so often I might forget.

So in a way I say, “Thank you Mom. You might have given me a sickness which produces the worst headache in the word. And the constant terrible sweats, and chills. But you have given me a pause to reflect what I love most. Which is you, and my siblings. I love you!”