The Joy of Sadness

She died over two months ago. That was my final realization. The others happened every day between day one and now.

I remember his face clearly. He looked at me so apologetically as he told me she was dead. Dead. He told me she jumped. She was the one at fault.

I yelled at him. This was his fault. He left her behind in the dust when he knew she needed him most. He was her brother. He was supposed to be there for her.  When my fist connected with his face he didn’t flinch. The only difference was a single tear rolling down his face. He cried. He told me he knew it was his fault. He said he missed her.

He didn’t go to the funeral. I called him four times. He didn’t come. When I saw the small, white, cement box I realized I would never see her face again. Not really. The pictures lining the table around her box didn’t look right. She was always smiling. She only ever smiled to hide her true feelings from her family.

She told me once how much she hated faking her joy, but she loved her family too much to make them see her pain. I always thought it was beautiful, how she hid her pain to keep her family safe. Now I just wish they could have been there for her. Maybe then she wouldn’t have done it. I should have told them. I should have saved her.

The funeral passed with a blur. I spoke in it. I don’t remember what I said, but as I closed off my speech with tears rolling down my face, I remember saying it was my fault, that I should have done more. Her parents hugged me and told me it was ok.

Nothing would ever be ok again.

When I got home I got in bed and I didn’t come out for the rest of the day. I didn’t get up day one after the funeral either. My parents tried to get me out of bed. They told me it was over. She was gone, and that I had to accept it eventually.

The tears that drizzled down my face felt like pressure coming in on me from all direction leaving me no escape. I told them she wasn’t gone; she couldn’t be gone. I told them I didn’t want to leave my bedroom because going to school and finding her gone would bring fresh pain all over again.

It wasn’t until day three after the funeral that I finally got up, and then it felt like the world was crashing down on me. What was the point. She was gone. Everything I did, I did for her. I thought we were sisters. I thought she would never leave me. Were all those words she told me empty.

On day four my mother made me go to school. The hallways felt so dull. She wasn’t there beside me laughing and telling stories that I’ve already heard. My teachers all looked at me sympathetically as I walked into class and asked me if I was ok.

Of course I wasn’t ok. My world had been torn limb from limb as I watched hers fold up into nothingness. My teachers explained assignments and I forgot them the minute they said them. I forgot everything they said.

I cried when I got home. I hated how much effort it took for me to go to school and even then I knew it wasn’t enough. I cried because there was no one waiting for me at my locker after my last class to walk with me to the bus, even though her mother drove her home. I cried because I was alone, and I didn’t know what to do.

The days blurred together quickly. It was day 23 when I realized that this would be the first quarter I didn’t make 4.0 on the honor roll. I wouldn’t even make the honor roll. My teachers all seemed concerned with me. Some of them looked at me judgmentaly with a look of disapproval, and others looked at me sadly like I was already dead.

Day 34 my parents found out about my bad grades. The school called them. They tried to talk to me and I wanted to try to explain why they were failing, but the only thing I could think about was her. I felt like I couldn’t move on because if I did what would happen to her legacy. So I decided that day that I wasn’t allowed to forget her. Ever.

It was day 67 when my parents insisted on me going to a therapist. I never actually looked at his face. If he asked a question I would nod or shake my head. I hated the sessions, because he only spoke of letting go of her, and I needed to remember her.

Day 76 my therapist introduced me to a different one. This one only asked questions that you had to answer with words, but he wanted me to forget about her all together. I hated every moment that I had to spend in that room.

On Day 78 I started homeschooling. I hated that as well because my mother would beg me to wake up. She would cry and tell me to be her daughter again. I hated letting her down, I really did. But I hated myself so much more.

Day 84 I walked right out of my therapy session. He tried to stop me, but I just walked right out. It felt so free. One foot in front of the other and I left the therapist, my mother, and my teachers all behind to drown in their own expectations.

I just kept walking. My therapist walked beside me, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t speaking so everything was ok. Soon I found myself in front of her house.

Everything crashed down on me all at once. I realized that she died over two months ago. The pain, the wasted time and the constant pain. For a split second there were tears and then I dropped right there on the side-walk.

My therapist sat down beside me and asked me if this was her house.

I nodded.

This time, he was silent. He let me cry and I loved every second of it. I wanted to cry. It felt good. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. When I was done he looked at me with a proud look and told me that I needed to cry. He said that the only way I could release my emotions was through crying.

I still miss her so, so much. And I know my story is far from over. But right now as these tears spill down my face I don’t mind so much that I still have to survive tomorrow. I just like the idea of crying today.






One Chance

Why is it every time we get the chance to make an impact on someone’s life we let it pass in the blink of an eye?

I’m not saying I’m innocent here, but I am saying this,
We have one life.

The average person lives 79 years. That is 28,835 days. Then it’s over. The race is done, and what you did in this life; the choices you made, the people you spoke to, and things you did are a legacy. One that will either be remembered, or forgotten.

And here’s the thing,
Life can end at any time.

I know it sounds dark, but it’s true. How many books or movies have you heard of where a character wishes they had one more chance to say ‘I love you,’ or ‘goodbye’. Because there are a lot. The point is, if we tell the people we love that we do, we don’t have to worry about them not knowing it. Because it does matter even if we like to pretend it doesn’t.

We have 28, 235 days to make a difference, and it doesn’t matter if you are young or old.

1 Timothy 4:12 says this.

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct in love, in faith and in purity.

In the kingdom of God, age does not matter. You have this life to make a difference and that’s it. We like to make excuses by telling ourselves that we’re too young, or weak. The truth is, the only way to be old enough or strong enough is to do something.

We have one life. One chance. I think it’s time we stop wasting it and work to change someone else’s life. We have 28, 835 days. I think it’s time we take this one to make a difference in this world we live in.


I am so so so sorry! I lost track of time and forgot to post anything! This post was just something that has been laying on my mind, and I wanted to share it with you. I guess it’s sorta inspiring or something of the sort…? I will be posting for sure tomorrow and I might also post on Wednesday to try and get some new posts up for you guys. Don’t forget to let me know what you think below in the comments section! Thanks lots and have a terrific Monday!

Say a Prayer

God I pray to you tonight

A prayer to say I’m sorry

Because to matter how hard I try

To be your daughter

I always mess it up

And God, you alone know

That the person who puts the most pressure on me,

Is me.

I will never be enough

And I will never try hard enough

To deserve your love

But you give it to me anyway.

So these storms that rage in my life will not seem so big

Not when I have you.

God I will tell you over and over again

I am yours

But it is always short lived

So tonight let it be different

Let this prayer mean something

Because I’m tired of begging you to fix everything that is wrong

And forget to learn the lessons you are trying to teach me

I am tired of leaving you only to find that you alone

Are the way and the truth and the life.

God I’ll say a prayer tonight

Dear God,
I know I’ve messed up so many times
And I know you’ll forgive me
But today I am begging you
To show me who you want me to be
Cause I am blind,
And the only way I will ever see is through you
So help me,
Bring me to your love
And never let me go



Thank you so, so much for reading, and don’t forget to leave a comment below on what you think. Thank you so much for all your support and I’m excited to see your feedback on this one. Have a great evening!



Who We Are

I think it’s funny how often we forget about who we are. We get so caught up in what people expect us to be. We make ourselves funny, quiet, smart, or even annoying just to fulfill other people’s versions of us. Why do we care. We are who we are, but for some reason we feel the need to be what people want of us. If everyone was who they was than everyone would have who they really needed, not who they thought they needed. This world is confusing enough. It only makes it harder when everyone walks around every single day wearing a mask. I think it’s time we stop hiding who we are and reveal the people we really are.


I don’t know where my inspiration came from for this. I guess I am just feeling this today. Please leave a comment below if you liked it and tell me why. Feedback is very much appreciated. Hope you had a great Tuesday and enjoy your evening!

Oh, God I’m a sinner

God, I’m a sinner

I roam through the hills trying to fallow your command

And in your name I fail.

God I try to do what you ask

and I fall on my face begging you for mercy on my sinful soul.

Oh, God I am a sinner

And I won’t deny it anymore

I will accept that and I will pray

God please use me for your good

Your good that I could never match up to

Oh God your glory is higher

Higher than anything on this Earth

And I will look up to you

And be proud to be your child

Oh, God I’m a sinner

But you didn’t care

You brought me into your love

Like all my life I had followed you

Oh, God I’m a sinner

But you sacrificed yourself

Because you loved me anyway

I will fallow you

For all of my days

And in your name,

I am purified.


[Author’s Note] So sorry for the late post yesterday… I lost track of my days! This post is an early one because I have to get to church, and it was written today! I made myself write it although it was rather hard to come up with. Again if anyone has any advice on writer’s block I would be so grateful for it and please leave your feedback below as well. I hope you enjoyed it and happy Sunday!

Friendship- a poem

Our friendship was a lullaby

A lovely flowing song

Dancing like a butterfly

We knew it would last long


But darkness took its hold on it

and you don’t seem to see

The monster here will just not quit

‘Till our we transforms to me


I tried to warn you once one day

You left me in the dust

I had to find another way

And that meant losing trust


Some might say I tattle-taled

Or maybe even lied

It seems perhaps I might have failed

And the gap between  the two of us

Is ever so far wide


So here I sit this lowly night

Tears brimming in my eyes

I wish that I could see the light

And someone hear my cries


[Author’s Note]   This is my first free written poem I ever wrote and is still on my top ten list. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I am suffering a bit of writers block right now, so if you have ever worked through writer’s block please leave a comment about how you beat it… also I love getting feedback so feel free to do so. Thanks again for all your support!

You Always Fought Beside Me

I’ve had Leukemia for six months. It started with the small lump of skin on my neck which I made out to be a spider bite, or something of the sort. Then I noticed that I was abnormally exhausted from easy exercises. It wasn’t until I got bruises on my hands from playing tether ball, however, that my mom finally realized that this was no common coincidence.

She took me to the doctor where they inspected the strange lump and the dark bruises and sent us to the blood work lab. They mentioned a few possibilities including leukemia, however none of them were ideal.

My mom and I went out for lunch after that. She took me to my favorite restaurant and we enjoyed our noon hour. Then we went home and awaited the phone call that would determine what our next steps for my treatment might be.

When the phone did ring, the answer was terrifying. My white blood cell count had come out very high. They wanted to schedule a bone marrow biopsy to test for leukemia in a hospital. The biopsy went smoothly, but the results came back positive.

Wanting to know how far the leukemia had spread they performed a spinal tap to see if they could find it. Fortunately, they could not find anything. But they did not get their hopes up. They performed a CT scan and found signs of leukemia in my brain. They started chemotherapy instantly.

The chemotherapy is exhausting and has its own challenges. After each session I find myself vomiting. The nausea drugs do little to help until after the first few days. My hair has long disappeared and instead in its place is a bandana. Every other week I attend a class with other cancer patients struggling with self-images.

The hardest part, of course, is the people around me. It hurts me so much when I see my mom crying in the kitchen, or my friends talking about how much they missed me the day before when I was at therapy. It takes all I have not to burst into tears knowing that I might not even be here for them forever.

I remember my first chemo session. They injected it with a needle and I almost vomited on the spot. I didn’t sleep that night, but rather lay on the couch with a bowl dosing off only to be woken into restless fits. The next week they prescribed nausea drugs.

It also took several weeks to find foods that I enjoyed eating. After my first chemo dose my tastes changed completely, turning from spicy to sweet and salty to fresh.

Everyone is so kind to me. I have so much candy I have no idea what to do with it, and I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have help on an assignment regardless of the fact that most of it is make up work from the last time I was gone for whatever reason.

Now I stare at one of my classmates in disbelief.

“Seriously,” he says, “Haven’t you ever considered the fact that you might die.”

Realizing he is serious I respond carefully, “Of course I’ve thought about that, but what’s the point. Think about it. Would you?”

With that I turn on my heel and walk to my next class.

“Brooklyn!” I hear one of my friends, Kaily, call from behind me, “How are you feeling? You were gone yesterday.”

“Oh,” I smile, “I slept in and my mom didn’t wake me up.”

She laughs and we walk to my next class together. It’s times like these where leukemia is the most painful, because I can tell I’m slipping away. One day I might not be in their picture frames anymore, but in a photo hidden away where tears may be shed over it once a year.

But even though I have my lows, I will never stop fighting. Since I was diagnosed I have served at several free will dinners smiling and taking time to get to know people I might otherwise not. I also spend time with the elderly, visiting them when I feel up to it.

The next time I have a chemotherapy session, I have a blast. My oncologist lets me ride down the halls in his office chair. We play a game of chess that he wins. Then he leads me to complete my session. As in routine he sticks the needle in and my arm tingles, and before I know it the needle comes out.

Before we leave I use the bathroom and look in the mirror. My mom is still talking to my oncologist and so she isn’t here to see the tear run down my face as I stare at my confident face with baggy eyes and sores on the gum of my mouth. I also take a moment to relieve myself of my food.

A few weeks pass by and I get more and more tired. I start to run a fever and stay home from school two weeks in a row. I also lose several pounds in a very short time. My mom takes me to my oncologist where I will undergo another CT scan to see if the cancer is spreading. When the scan is over my oncologist looks at me grimly.

He takes us to a private room and talks to both of us.

“The CT scan shows signs of the leukemia getting worse in Brooklyn’s brain. We will change the chemotherapy drugs and see if it helps, but by the extent of the spread I can’t guarantee it will work.”

My mom looks at him with tears in her eyes, “Are you saying?”
He nods, “I’m afraid so.”
My thoughts come out foggy, “But you told me we would beat the cancer.”

He gives me a faint smile, “Brooklyn, we aren’t giving up yet.”

I stay silent as he shows us the CT scan and what it means.

In the next week I only get worse to the point where I am forced to stay at the hospital. More than once my family, friends, and my pastor’s family come to visit me.

My oncologist comes in once a day to see me. My chemo sessions become more and more frequent. Then one night I see him talking to my mom outside the door. My mom appears to be crying. A feeling of dread builds up in my chest as I breath in through the tubes they have given to make breathing easier.

My mom comes back in and leans over me crying.

“Brooklyn,” she whispers, “please don’t leave.”
“Mom,” I smile, “Nothing can separate us. Not even cancer.”

She gives me a faint smile, “Your father would be proud of you. You’re a warrior just like him.”

“I bet he’s proud of you too,” I whisper.

“And why is that?” she asks.

“Because you always fought beside me.”

She smiles at me and holds my hand, and that very night I got to see my father with my own eyes looking down at my mother, and the place where I lay only moments before.


[Author’s Note] Sorry for the longer post, but I really like the story here. I didn’t acctually write this today because I’m feeling a little bit of writers block *Gasp!* But I wrote it at the beginning of the year. Hope you enjoy and have a great Thursday. Also in the future I will be posting ever Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Have a good week and I’ll update on Saturday. Feel free to leave feedback below!


[Author’s Note]

Yes, normally I put the author’s note at the bottom, but today I’m switching it up. Also I left a kettle on the stove for two and a half hours today by accident so no promises on my writing today. I know it’s kinda short but it hasn’t exactly been the best of my days… Hope you enjoy it anyway!

I hate secrets. They come and go like a whisper, but a real secret, a heavy one, always leaves a path of pain and destruction. Secrets are like a cloud, sometimes pretty, until they gain enough strength to come in and destroy everything. Secrets are beautiful, because they show trust, but secrets are evil, because they also show distrust. To many secrets and you find yourself drowning in them. Secrets are important, but are to be used with caution for you never know when they will explode. Be careful of who you tell them to, but also be weary of who you don’t.

Wanting to Do

Why is it that the sun rises every day,

But it feels like I haven’t seen it for years?

I want to be happy,

I want to run with the horses and fly with the birds,

but I can’t even walk on my own two feet.

I want to travel the world, and know every single turn of the Earth,

But I can’t find my way out of the house.

Why is it that I have such big dreams,

But only a little corner of the world?

Why is it that every night I can look up and see the stars,

But it feels like I only ever see the darkness?

I want to look up and see a world of hope,

and ambition.

I want to see freedom.

But this world,

It looks down on me,

And it tells me I can’t.

I want to look up and see the moon look down on me proudly,

But I am blinded by the coldness of the world.

Why is the world so cold?



[Author’s Note]

Hey guys! How’s it going! First of all, Thank you so much to the few followers I already have. It means a ton that you want more of my writing and I love to see what you guys are up to on your own blogs! I wrote this poem today… I’m not completely sure where I got my inspiration, but I just felt something a little sadder today. Also, I am trying to decide what content to put on here more often and what to use less of. Right now there are a lot of poems, but I also enjoy short stories and pretty much any form of writing. If you have any suggestions please leave a comment below.