Even though bad things Come, good things can come out of it.

I was walking around south creek; I wasn’t a big fan of going outside, neither was I a happy girl. Nothing surprised me, nothing fazed me. I wasn’t just trying to get through every day.

I didn’t like my parents, and I didn’t like my life. One day I found out that my parents were getting a divorce, here’s how it was handled:

“Sweet heart, come sit down.” My mother said.

“So, what’s hanging?”

“Jill, your father and I are getting a divorce . I know this is hard for you but-“

At that moment I got mad and ran away. I knew I didn’t like my parents at all, but I knew deep inside there was some love there for them. I didn’t want to talk to them for days, weeks, eventually they separated, and I got used to it. But from that day on I realized that having parents together is a blessing… and that I needed to be grateful for what I had. So since then, I was sort of happy … different. Although I still struggle deep with not having a dad.

(Fictional story)

You remind me of cold milk on the counter.  Good at first, when it's right out of the fridge.  When water beads on the outside of the You remind me of cold milk on the counter.  Good at first, when it's right out of the fridge.  When water beads on the outside of the glass  And creates a ring on the counter.  But after a little while  The milk warms to the same temperature as the room.  It's not too bad but it's not as good as before.  Straight out of the fridge.  After an hour the milk is warm.  There's no water beads on the outside of the glass.  No cold touch as you bring it to your lips.   The glass feels the same as when you took it out.  The milk has changed.  After a few hours the milk is warmer, And feels thinker.  And it tastes sour.  After a full day the once cold milk on the kitchen counter  Has spoiled.  Its curdled and smells, And has gone completely sour.  The next morning the cup has been dumped  And washed  And put away.  The milk has gone and changed.  No longer cold and sweet,  But  warm and sour.  Changed too much to be saved.   You are like cold milk left out for a day. Good when it started, but too sour to stay.  Now all that's left is the water ring on the counter.  And an empty cup in the cupboard

(TW: sh) This is a good thing I am here And I am happy I am a Good Person . I shouldn’t hurt myself anymore This is a good thing I am here And I am… happy I am a

Good

Person.

But before you can blink It’s gone And it was something I am here now And I am I… Am…

I held it again I said I fucking wouldn’t And I held the blade to my skin again And today I cut over and over I had to force myself to stop I know I can’t cut deep Because then someone will know And I’ll be put in a hospital Because you’re not supposed to hurt yourself I’m only a kid I’m so scared I’ve kept it together but I don’t know if I can do this anymore I don’t know if I can bring myself to be friends with others anymore Because apparently everyone who’s nice hates their life And everyone else hates other people So why am I the only one trying Why am I the only one putting in Effort? Do they even want to be my friend? Because I am trying my hardest and I am so helpless.

I am unsatisfied Helpless And stupid.

I am not ok And I know I am not ok But I can’t say I am not ok Because then someone else will know I’m not ok So I really will not be ok.

Losing my brother was the most Difficult day of my life. But it was all okay because then I married his wife.

Her name is Janice and I pretty sure That she only married my brother for his dollar bills, Because she was the only one written in his wills.

Janice and I have been married for a year, But our relationship is dying, I fear.

I lost my job And now I am broke, And can’t even afford to buy Janice a coke.

Janice has filed the divorce papers, But I’m happy. Janice was mean and kinda snappy, And now I can marry her brother.

Loving someone with medicall issues brings challenges but also brings smiles and joy. It brings challenges and envy and longing. Wishing and watching as other couples enjoy years of being with each other and growing old together. Longing that you too would have all that time to be with your partner. Envy that other couples take their time with each other for granted. But with all that you learn to smile and enjoy the time you do have with your partner for it will be shorter then other couples get you do things to make memories with each other.while we are told a life exptancy that isnt normal for my husband its 40 years old he wont live past that is what doctors say we learn to love and care for each other more then normal couples I wouldn’t change anything even if i could for it made my husband who he is and brings us closer together we love deeper and care more then what normal couples do. We learn not to take a minute for granted and learn that one day all we have will be our memories and those things that he once loved his posseions that he cared so much about will one day be mine to cherish and hold close. Through this tragedy good things also come from it.

We’ve always been taught: “Things have to get worse for them to get better.” Or “The sun is warmer after the rain” Or something similar to that. What they don’t mention is that the good part is often cut short and is never fulfilling enough to compensate for the darkness.

The darkness lasts to long. When do I give up? Does it ever stop? I can’t fight for the rest of my life. This isn’t living. You can survive all you want but your not living.

•••

“Just keep going. It will all work out in the end.” I empathetic smile warms her face. I look up at her, still on my knees. “Better?” I laugh. It’s a dark sarcastic sound. Her smile weakens, concern starting to fill her eyes. “I’ve been going for years now.” I stand, towering over her. “How much longer? Hm? Am I on the verge of success or will I keep going for the rest of life.” She stumbles back as I step closer to her. “How do you know it gets better?” I sneer and turn to leave. “Calm down! Don’t be so dramatic. Your not the only one with challenges.” … I freeze in my tracks. “Dramatic?” My voice is cold and sharp. “It’s honestly not that big of a deal-“ I laugh, cutting her off. The laugh stings my eyes and squeezes my throat, the world turning into a swirl of darkness. She hesitantly walks closer, placing a gentle hand on my back. I smack her hand away, whipping around to face her. “WHY. WHY IS IT NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL? BECAUSE ITS NOT A BIG DEAL TOO YOU? I WOULD ASSUME ITS NOT A BIG DEAL TO YOU SEEING THAT YOU NEVER PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” A swirl of emotions coat her face at the sudden outburst. “O- of course I care.” Her face melts to pity and concern. “Liar.” I take a slow step back. “You only care about her and whatever she needs.” I walk away, slamming the door behind me.

I was never much a writer.

Ranting descriptions, laying out complex details, writing a universe in those pages.

It didn’t appeal me.

For in my mind, there was no world, no universe.

It was simply pitch black, a canvas that I could not see, nor the art.

So when I was pushed upon writing,

I didn’t want to choose anything to do with it.

I was simply a lizard that just wanted to bask.

But I knew one day, I’d be burned by the sun.

So I picked a pen, one that didn’t work most times, and I wrote.

Nothing in length.

Just words jotted down as if I was some sort of poet.

A Shakespeare with a weakened passion for reading, a Shakespeare afraid of their lack of ideas.

But I trut forward, escaping my sterile creativity.

Perhaps some day I’ll see the art I’ve made on that canvas.

[𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏]

Once upon a time Life was filled with Wonder and magic

Once upon a time Bedtime tales of fairies, mermaids, And princess with their prince

Once upon a time Dressing up with tutus, tiaras, Fairy wings, and ‘magic’ wands

Once upon a time There was nothing to Be afraid of

Once upon a time I experienced a child like Faith, oh so pure

Once upon a time I was out-going An extrovert

Once upon a time I came home crying For too many reasons

Once upon a time I prayed to Jesus For help

Once upon a time The line between a Friend and a bully blurred

Once upon a time I struggled, a lot Mentally

Once upon a time I spent three years Praying for a real friend

Once upon a time Everything happened All together

Once upon a time My prayers were Answered

Once upon a now I haven’t learned How to properly cope

Once upon a now I’m no longer an Extrovert

Once upon a now I try to get ride of My echoing thoughts

Once upon a now I think I’m slowly Healing

Once upon a now I’ve found little things To make me smile

Once upon a now Someone will always Have it worse

Once upon a now At least I’m okay Well I hope I am

I’m dead

How is a question I can’t seem to answer. I wander between the land of the living and dead, searching for something that I can’t seem to put into words. An abstract feeling of warmth in my heart. Gentle hands. A dimpled smile. A voice following me like a moth to a flame amidst the valleys of undead

_“Come back to me, my love” _

_Memories of a young man sipping on coffee beneath the sunlight of a new dawn. _ _Pulling me into a dance in an empty living room as a vinyl record skips. _ _Holding me after a tearstained nightmare in the dead of night. _

“I want to,” I whisper, feeling myself begin to fall deeper into the sea of memories. “But I don’t know how.”

“Come _ _ back _ _ to _ _ me”

Suddenly, I’m no longer underwater, feet planted against lush grass beneath me. A soft gust of breeze ruffles my hair, leaving me confused for a moment until I see— Lavenders. They stud the fields with their soft purple hues, blending with the greenery like oil paint. A setting sun rests on the horizon beyond, illuminating a willow tree about a mile away. Lavender Lavender Lavender The name reverberates through my mind. His voice calls it out to me through my memories, faraway. Beyond, under the lazily waving branches of the tree, his frame is outlined by a faint golden sheen, a smile lining his lips. “Lavender,” He murmurs, a tear gliding down his cheek. In that sliver of a moment, a pin drops in my mind, sending a wallowing storm of memories inward. I remember. “Lucas,” My throat aches. In an instant, I’m bolting towards him, letting my arms find their way around his waist, face buried into his chest. “I remember,” I sob. “I remember.” There was a car accident. A funeral. Years on end alone and undeniably empty. “I’m here now,” His words linger around for a moment, until all that’s left is the closed space between us, and the now starry sky above.

The house was perfect. Everything Erica was looking for in a home. Security she never had growing up, physical space she couldn’t afford during college and her first six jobs, an inheritance, nor her first couple jobs as a professional engineer.

3000 sqft home, 4 bedrooms, 2 full bathrooms, living room, dining room, attic, basement, garage and 3 acres behind the house, complete with a beautiful 6 ft fence. A beautiful, walkable neighborhood with a good school district and nearby expressways. With a price of $280,000, it would be the perfect home to grow into, as soon as she found the right partner.

She’d kissed many frogs in her life, a couple who could’ve been good choices, but she was too focused on work and creating security.

Several months alone in the house passed before Robert, a past relationship helped fill the emptiness. Robert was curious about why the house was so affordable. Erica assumed the seller was in a rush to get into their retirement home in the Caribbean. She was not one to question luck after all of her hard work.

Robert was “the one who got away”. The difference this time was they reconnected when she had a patio designed and installed in her backyard. She enjoyed cooking so it included a full outdoor kitchen, grill, firepit, eating and lounge area. It turned out that the company with the best quote and reviews belonged to Robert. Robert was equally, if not more focused on work than Erica. They made their relationship a priority rather than an afterthought because they didn’t want to lose eachother again. It was difficult but worth the effort.

One day while at work, her security company called her cellphone because the system detected smoke and there was no response inside the home when they called. First responders were notified of a fire and were on there way. Erica called Robert but there was no response. She immediately left work and continued calling, in hopes that he was in a meeting and didn’t have his phone on him.

When she arrived at the house, it was taped off, she wasn’t allowed to go near it. There was a crowd of people outside watching in as much shock as Erica. She was even more shocked that she couldn’t reach Robert but his car was on the property.

Erica would learn that not only was Robert at the house but he had died of smoke inhalation. He was in his home office near a fire and waterproof safe she had not known about.

Once the investigation was complete, she learned the fire was not the first to occur on that property.

It was originally burned in the 1700’s by colonists who wanted to take over the space to start a new town. The original inhabitants were forced out or burned. It followed that for one reason or another over the centuries, a fire would occur on this specific location. The last happened just over a century ago. It was forgotten history. However, the new homeowners never lived in the house more than a few years.

Once the safe was returned to Erica, she learned what was so important to Robert that he would risk his life for that safe. His inquiry into the reason the house was sold for such a low price lead to more research. This was natural for him as a Historian. He’d learned that her family had originally owned that space before colonists burned it down. And a relative eventually would end up living there again and the house would burn, but the relative would survive. The previous owner had come across the repeated fires on the property, those records were in the safe and would explain the quick sale and silence about the issue.

The previous owner did not know about the genealogy related to the property, so chances are it wouldn’t have burned had they kept the home. Robert learned that the house burned whenever a relative lived in the home but were unaware of their supernatural abilities. They channel heat, used in healing, but whenever they aren’t balanced, healing people, their home burned.

Erica would have to learn how to channel her healing abilities and learn whatever else Robert hadn’t learned