If God loves me then why do I feel like this? If Jesus died feeling all of our pain then why do I still have to go through it alone? You’ll answer with “trials are tests of strength and faith” You’ll answer with “you have to act in faith to receive blessings” You’ll answer with “all you have to do is ask for help” I know I have I do Every night as I can’t sleep I pray that tomorrow will be better I pray that we will feel connected I pray that I’ll get to see you soon I pray that it won’t hurt It doesn’t work Nothing works

I do as I’m told I pray, I read, I ponder, I listen Why isn’t it enough? What more does He want from me? Do I need to leave my life behind like you did yours? Do I need to be cut off from everyone all but one day a week? I can’t do that I don’t have the strength for that I don’t know if I have the strength for this

I miss you I love you You miss me You love me Why is it that God’s love trumps all? Why is it that God’s love hurts above all? If this is how He shows His love, I don’t know if I want it.

It was a small town, the type of place where everyone knew everyone, so it was no surprise when Tom was murdered.

He had always been the worst ever since grade school. He would pick on kids at the playground and was openly defiant to teachers. As he got older he leaned towards the views of his deadbeat father becoming misogynistic, racist, and homophobic. No one was sad to see him go. All his family was dead or estranged, they didn’t even hold a funeral.

Of course the town sheriff was intent on finding his murderer if for no other purpose than to prove he could. There had been a string of unsolved murders under this sheriff, people were starting to think he was the murderer. If he wasn’t a murderer he was just dumb, hard to say which he’d prefer to be. His job had been threatened so many times it was hard to say if any of the mayor’s threats were real.

The sheriff started by investigating Tom’s body which was taken by the morgue in the next town over. He had a long journey and would listen to audiobooks and true crime podcasts as he rode on his moped. Of course the autopsy showed nothing except that Tom had been around a number of poisonous plants. Tom being a gardener, this wasn’t surprising.

The sheriff moved onto interviewing anyone who would’ve had a reason to murder Tom. This was everyone in the town even the Jensen’s baby who had once bitten Tom as a result of him trying to hold her. This also got the sheriff no where, if everyone was a suspect then no one could be a suspect.

The sheriff continued to study where the murder occurred wondering if the murderer would just confess. When he settled down for the night he was wrapped in a strange dream. Tom visited him and confessed to his own murder. He was shocked that the sheriff had not figured out already that Tom had committed suicide. He had even left a note on his dresser. In the morning the sheriff went to Tom’s house and looked on his dresser and sure enough, there was a note in Tom’s giant handwriting. The sheriff took it to his station, put it in evidence and called the mayor.

“I am not very good at my job,” he said, “it is time I resign.”

He made me feel like a balloon in the air the helium stretching beyond He made me feel like a kid with a pear a favorite fruit to be palmed He made me feel like nothing could compare to be the one of which he is fond

“I’m telling you it was an Earthquake!” Mai said to me as we looked up at the blue house about to fall off the cliff. My cousin was trying to distract me from my encounter earlier with Jeni.

“That’s a boring reason! I want something interesting!”

“Mik! What do you want from me?” They replied.

“Tell me a story. Like how the house was infested with so many flies it started to fly to the edge of the cliff. The people who lived there angered a witch and she shot a curse at them. In the attempt to save his wife the man neglected to check on his daughter, who the witch stole and locked high in a tower—“

“Okay, that’s just the plot of Rapunzel,” Mai said, rolling their eyes.

“Things can be similar to other things. Have you never heard of a retelling?”

We kept bickering like this until we reached the ice cream shop she was taking me. After Jeni stopped coming with me, Mai joined. They’re two years older than me and had money so they would always pay.

When we walked in the shop I was distracted by the new menus. It had just been a few months since I was in here last and the menu was way flashier now. I was frozen in my spot trying to see my favorite order when someone bumped into me from behind.

It was Jeni.

Jeni was standing at the edge of the bridge looking into the shadows where I stood below. She was going to jump, I knew it. I could either stay here and try to catch her, try to talk her out if it, or just leave and pretend I didn’t see anything. If I tried to catch her we would both be hurt, but I can’t do nothing. I guess option three is out.

I would just call up to her, but I’m sure from where I’m standing she can’t see me. I don’t want to startle her and have her fall off the bridge. I needed a way to keep her there until I could get to her.

I start moving my legs but they feel thick as tree trunks, and heavy too. I feel a burning sensation as I watch as my best friend jumps into the fiery lava under the bridge causing a huge wave to wash over me. Before the lava even singes the hairs on my arms I wake up, drenched in sweat.

The beads of cold sweat were clinging to my skin even though I felt like I had just climbed from a pool of lava. Which, according to my nightmare, I had. I stumbled sleepily into the bathroom that connected my bedroom with my sister’s and turned on the light.

I ran the cool water and took a few calming breaths. I splashed the water on my face and looked into the mirror. I almost screamed when I realized what was different. Jeni was standing right behind me, slowly putting her arms around my waist and dragging me into a hug. I had forgotten that she had come over when my family decided to leave me while they went on their vacation.

“McKayla,” Jeni whispered into my left ear, “do you want to get some ice cream?”

I turned and when my brown eyes met hers I couldn’t help but laugh. It was nearly 5:00 a.m. we both had work in about two hours and she wanted ice cream!?

“Yes, I’d like that,” I replied giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. Even after my terrifying night I felt safe in her arms.

We had always enjoyed the last day of school, Jeni and I. We would stay until the end, but never be in class and once that final bell rang we would run across the street to the ice cream shop. We would fish out the little we saved over the past few weeks and hand it over asking for one Sunday with everything and two spoons. I didn’t know it then but the last day of freshman year would be the last of the Sundays for a while.

It’s the last day of senior year now. Jeni and I don’t talk much anymore. Ever since I came out to her in freshman year she’s been weird.

I walk down the hall heading to math, my last class of the day, and I run straight into her. We collide with such a force we’re both knocked down. I push myself off the ground and straighten up reaching out my hand to help her. She grabs it and as I pull her up I see a pin drop off her backpack.

“Hey, is that your pin?” I ask looked at the pink, purple, and blue pride flag. She blushes furiously and grabs it, rushing down the hall without a word.

One thing I forgot to mention when I came out to Jeni, I didn’t just talk to her. I kissed her.

Sweetness and Softness were old friends seldom heard from One sickly One old Neither appreciated until it’s gone

They are begged to come and hold the hands of The sickly The old Neither appreciated until it’s gone

Sweetness and Softness the greatest of friends Sadly So are Wrath and Cruelty and they are much more common.

If your hand could reach inside my heart, What would you do with it? Would you hold it tenderly Or wrench far too hard Would you feel the things I feel Or pretend to see who I am Would you put a bit of you in Or take a piece of me If your hand could reach inside my heart.

Arachnophobia-the intense and irrational fear of spiders and other arachnids like scorpions

I have arachnophobia and the worst part is, is that it is so bad I can’t even kill the little devils

I always see them, if there is one nearby I see it but I can’t kill it because of my irrational fear

And I wish I could say that it’s rational but when I am walking in circles around my kitchen table crying and screaming and clawing at my skin and ripping my hair out because I can feel them scuttling around every terrified inch of my body...I can’t call it rational

I think the worst part is I can’t kill them and sometimes my mom isn’t home to kill them either

My little brother is home but for some reason he’s now too scared as well and with my older brother off at college and my dad in an urn my mother is the only one to which I can turn

But she has a life too, she can’t just focus on us because she needs to have another life or it’ll all become too much so I let her live her life while it seems like I’m sacrificing mine but I’m not

it’s just a devil, just a small one that looks like a giant in my imperfect eyes and I’m crying and screaming and clawing and ripping and wailing and wanting...

Wanting to have a friend who instead of laughing at me will come to my aid Wanting to have a friend like me who is ready to drop anything for anyone Wanting to have a friend with a little more Hufflepuff in them because gosh darn it hufflepuffs are better than anyone else

They aren’t pushovers and anyone who says so can be eaten by the devils that ravage my body and enter my mind as I try to sleep and ruin my days and my nights and the in between and will last forever in Jeremy bearemy where the only place I’ll be safe is the dot of the I

But I digress...we are not here to talk about Hufflepuffs or endless time, we are here to talk about my fears and the disease I have that maybe you share because a phobia is a disease. Phobias are irrational.