The Eyes of The Future

As a mother held her fragile new born baby, she smiled softly. A new tiny life had entered the world, right there in the hospital room. Life, and death, it occurs every second of our lives. As the mother's baby opened her eyes, the mother's beam grew larger and her tears flooded down her face. She wiped away her tears and looked into her daughter's tiny blue-green eyes. Blue, the colour of the never-ending sky and the ever-flowing waters. Green, the colour of the ever-green world that many have destroyed and other's have rebuilt. The mother looked into her newborn's eyes deeper. A happy sensation ran through the young lady's veins like a lightening bolt. Happiness, a priviliged feeling that everyone in life experiences at least once. The mother laughed out loud and looked at the baby's eyes again. Peace, a wanted and needed gift everywhere in the world. Freedom, the joy of making your own decisions and goinfg and doing anything you wish. Equalness, allowing all types and races to share all the positive feelings of life. Love, bittersweet, happy and sad all at different courses of thi forever cycle. Kindness, the good choice of manner towards others. The mother paused. She could see the future. A future of both good and bad, depending on everyone to make it that way. That's when the woman suddenly realized, children have the eyes of the future. (January 2005)

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Me

Hi, I'm Colleen and I'm a very unique girl. I've been writing stories since I was taught to write, in grade 1 when I was probably around 6. My first story was about a snowman, a snowman who was very sad about something, I think it was that no one liked him. I used to write stories with my friend Olivia and we'd take turns writing a page. I'd write about Pokeman when it was in style. Now, I typically write about fantasy stories I make up, I find them the easiest. And when I'm finished writing them, I check them over for spelling errors or to make dull words shinier! Not many of my friens enjoy writing stories, but my friend Spencer does. I've also learned to stand up to my bullies at school. I've done this, and now they're afraid of me. But only needs to be done for self defense, not for fun, that would make you a bully. My friends always support me as I do for them, and we help each other through the roughest times. I penpal 2 people, one from Scotland and the other from England. I used to have penpals from the USA, Malta, Sweden….places like that. I think I even had one from Switzerland once. I stay in touch with my friends who have moved away, my friends Bronwyn and Gwenna (sisters), moved to another city and my friend Elise moved to England. A lot of my friends are going to different high schools next year but I'll ALWAYS stay in touch with them. One of my friends, Marcela, moved to Cuba and I stay in touch with her to. I normally write short stories to, these being about lectures of life and things I've been through that hurts, or is truly lovely. Being able to write stories is not just a privilege, but a gift. So, use that gift well, all you writers out there! (January 2005)

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The Valley of Broken Dreams

I walk alone in the Valley of Broken Dreams, a path that has no particular location. It's everywhere, anywhere at anytime, everytime. There's no end, no beginning, and there's no particular path to follow. You never know who else walks along it. You always travel alone, followed only by your shadow. While being mixed up in your own misery, sometimes you wonder who else is there. But you never know why they're there, sometimes you don't even understand why you're there. There all of us are, away from all other civilization. Sometimes as I walk, I look back in my past and reflect on my old dreams, my now broken dreams that once brought joy and merry thoughts to my heart, faster then a heartbeat. Now I walk out here, outside on the night's streets of downtown, walking all alone caught up in my own obliterated dreams, sorrow and agony….in The Valley of Broken Dreams. (January 2005)

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When I Crash, You Rescue Me

When I'm sad, or mad, all of my world comes crashing down. My happiness sinks, my friends slip away from me. My walls, my barriers, come tumbling down and everything flies away from me, like a theif came and stole everything I owned. After that happens, there's nothing left for me. I'm alone, lost in my own little world filled with negative feelings and hurts, a place where my heart has sunk too deep in the ocean depths of sorrow to retrieve it. When I just can't stand it anymore, after screaming and thrashing around, and I almost crash all the way to the bottom of it all, You rescue me. You, the love of my life, fall for me, fight for me, hurt for me….everything you do is for me. When I was so afraid of falling all the way down, You were there for me, You rescued me. That's all because You love me as much as I love You, and when I crash, You rescue me. (January 2005)

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Echo Park

Having a natural force to heal and protect the good is not always as good as it sounds. That's the good side of it all. No one ever hears the bad side because people want to hear good, not bad. I always hear the bad side, see the bad side, feel the bad side. It's like the constant visit of a snake, wrapping itself around my heart and always releasing it's venom into me. I'm always having to feel everyone's fighting, crying, agony….it hurts so bad. In the adventerous world of the public, I hear echoes. Like a place my mind is thrown into, I call it Echo Park. I read people's thoughts, echoes, all against my own free will. That's what hurts the most because the sad echoes are sad and the happy echoes are happy. The happy ones, they make me wish for that feeling to conquer the bad, to make it vanish forever and for always, to shun it to a dark corner so it will never return. But everytime I'm sent to Echo Park, I feel that I just want to end it all. To just die and shut my eyes, to never again have to face others' negatives. So, that is what I shall do, and as my eyes close, all the world's troubles will be upon them, and that will be the last terrible thing I will ever feel. I will never again set my mind and soul into Echo Park. (January 2005)

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Time

Time, something no one can control. Sometimes it goes fast, sometimes it goes slow. That depends on only yourself, only you know how fast or slow it's going, no else knows. Time only goes foreward, it goes forever on only to stop when it's ready, which it hasen't yet, and will at a random moment. It never goes back, because what's done is done and can't be done over. It can't be erased, it's only to be remembered in which ever manner each moment holds. There's always a point in life where you'll want to go back, to change what you now regret, what hurts you most to make it better, even to see the happiest moments of your life just once more. But as you get older, you suddenly realize, there is no going back. (January 2005)

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