I want you to believe in yourself.

I want you to believe that you have so many more beautiful things to see before your time comes.

I want you to believe that there were a million wonders made for you to see in this life and that you can find them all.

I want you to believe that, although you may not have the power to control it, you do have the power to love your life and what you have done here on this earth.

I want you to believe that, although it may not get any easier, it can get better.

If you can't do that- if you can't believe in yourself, then don't. Believe in me.

I believe in you.

Every morning, I talk to Mrs.T. She is a widow from across the street. We talk about the latest gossip around our small town and drink coffee together. Then, I go about my day and do whatever needs to be done. Then, before I go to bed, I talk to a friend online. We chat about what kind of day we had and what games we've been playing. I enjoy talking to both of these people very much. We have friendly interactions and amusing conversations. Now, it is true that I've never seen my online friend face to face. It's true that, in reality, they may not be much to look at. But, then, neither is Mrs.T. Both of these people have met the same standard of friendship. They just meet them differently.

Time isn't linear. Time is not divided into days, hours, minutes, or seconds. It's one, unbroken and powerful force. We simply tried to catch it and put it in jars.

If at any point this isn't convenient, we complain. In reality, time isn't out of our hands at all. We just have to break the glass.

She drags me through the crowd by my arm. With her in the front, people part and we fly past the people. We reach her friends on the other side and she introduces me. They are polite to me because I'm with her. I have her stamp of approval.

Here, I am a parasite. I am using her to thrive.

I am two people. On the outside, I have responsibilities.

On the inside, I am a child and I do as I please. It's as though I am my own parent. As I walk home, the child weaves themselves between the crowds and plays with the strangers.

As I sit in class, the child swings their feet and pushes buttons randomly on the calculator. As I argue, the child forgives.

Love is when someone else's child asks yours to play.

Down the hill, the fog slithers and creeps

Like the putrid breath of some evil beast.

It hisses and it beckons me,

It tries to bring me to my knees

But I hold my ground, I will not come

I will not turn, i will not run.

I fight the monster to the death

My final swing is its final breath.

I walked and they were behind me. I didn't even realize they were following me at first. I was just walking and suddenly I heard someone stomping in time with my feet just behind me. Then, I heard an amused giggle. This is a game. I sped up my walking and they followed suit just as I'd expected. Then, they started to stomp between each step. Step. Step. Stomp. Step. Step. Stomp. I copied. I sped up. They copied. They skipped I copied. I ran. They copied. We weren't even speaking but I felt as though we were having some kind of conversation. It was a conversation of nonsense that we alone could hear. They almost passed me. Then, I picked up speed. I'm in front. They're in front. I'm in front. They're in front. We see the top of the hill. A finish line. Neither managing to outrun the other, we explode over the top of the hill and nearly lose our balance on the steep decline. For a moment, I am airborne and I can see the rest of the street and the houses in the distance. I've lived in this town my whole life, but it's never looked this beautiful. The sun is shining and everything is alive. Spring is here and it brought color with it. We fall to the ground and laugh. We are laughing so hard but I'm glad to see that their eyes are wet, too.