You give me hope in the darkest times

And when I come close to touch you

I stumble and fall

Farther and farther

And I must admire you from afar

When I think of you

My heart flutters

My stomach in knots

I crave your touch

Your kisses of life

Your beauty entrances me

It filters the darkness that surrounds

And lives within

It shows me what could be

In the vast ocean

You are the reason I keep swimming

Our stars are crossed

But one day,

One day, I pray we could be

Ah, the world we could make

Together, you and me.

Blood boiling.

Fingers curling.

Brows twitching.

Builds in me like lava

Fighting its way to the surface of a volcano.

A hurricane forming in the ocean.

A tornado twisting in the desert,

Growing bigger and bigger

Taking everything in its path.

Then, I scream.

I bawl.

And finally, I fall.

Renowned singer, Christine Carr has until Christmas to write the final song for her new album, but struggles when her A-lister boyfriend, Derek Dekker, dumps her publicly for his costar. Broken-hearted and embarassed, Christine escapes to the small town she grew up in for the holidays in hopes of inspiration. Christine finds comfort in her family, her community and Nathan Crest, the boy she left behind to chase her dreams. As an old flame reignites, and the deadline for her song approaches, Christine wonders if the path she chose for herself is the right one or if she could forge a new one in a familiar place.

There's no happily ever after

No silence filled with laughter

No pain without the dagger

No void that doesn't get blacker

There's just the tears filled with fears

And the screams no one hears

So you draw on a smile

Even though you feel vile

You walk the walk

You talk the talk

But when you look in the mirror

It couldn't be clearer

The sadness inside

That you've denied

Painted in your eyes

There's no surprise

But no one else can see

All that you may be

So you wipe your tears

Disguise your fears

Illuminate your teeth

And hide all that lies beneath

There's beauty in the dirt in which the flower sleeps before it rises to the surface. There's beauty in the intricate weaving of a caterpillar's cacoon before it breaks open to reveal the butterfly. There's beauty in darkness just before the light shines through to reveal all that is hidden within it. There's beauty in a barren tree covered with snow on a cold, winter's day before its branches fill with green in the Spring. There's beauty in pain before it becomes joy, and there's beauty in failure before it becomes success. Beauty lies not in what you see but what you don't see and what will be. To know true beauty is to have lived because success means nothing without failure. Money means nothing without poverty and happiness means nothing without pain. True beauty resides in the journey and struggle to success, because only then will you know the pure value and beauty of what you have in the end.

Tell me that the broken pieces of my heart will one day be mended. That if I just keep swimming I'll eventually reach the shore. Tell me that this isn't forever. That the crushing ache in my chest and the ever-flowing tears will stop, and I'll breathe again. Tell me I'll find my way, and that the days of wandering aimlessly through life without purpose will be long behind me. Tell me the sun will come out and light the darkness that imprisons my mind and cripples my soul. Tell me you see past my smile, and that one day it will be real.

Please, just tell me it's okay. Tell me because I don't believe myself. My once bright eyes have dimmed, and I'm struggling to swim. My arms have gotten heavy and my legs are numb. I'm in the middle of the ocean without a life jacket. The waves are crashing down on me without any breaks in between, and I fear I'll drown before I ever see the shore or the new horizons it will bring.

Hollywood Blvd. looks different than I remember. There are stars on the ground with names of people I don’t recognize, except for a few from my time. I read the one I am standing on, Pitbull. I wonder what this dog has done to be on a star. So much has changed.

I look around, everyone is staring at these rectangles in their hands that irradiate. They all seem so enamored by them. One person was nearly run over by a vehicle because he refused to look up. No one stops to say hello, no one makes eye contact or asks how you are doing. They just pass you by, and heaven forbid you smile at them and tell them to have a lovely day. They look at you like you are a martian who just landed from outer space speaking in an alien tongue. When did humanity become so robotic?

I agreed to be cryogenically frozen because I hoped for progress and change, yet, here I stand in the middle of a foreign Hollywood Blvd where all basic decency ceases to exist. Fifty plus years have passed and in some ways, the world seems to have regressed.

I was even told the President is an orange man who likes to grab women’s private areas, and children are being kept in cages. Quite frankly, I’m not sure how to feel about 2019 or about the future in general.

I walk dejected, wondering if I made the right decision when a man bumps into me and yells, “watch it!” I’m taken aback, but before I can apologize, two rather diverse looking women come to my aid.

“You watch it,” says the tall, beautiful African American woman. She is dressed in pants that stop well before her knees and a rather revealing blouse. I blush.

“Yeah, you bumped into her you jerk. Apologize,” interjects the hypnotizing, brown-eyed Spanish-looking woman dressed in a skin-tight dress that accentuates her hour-glass figure. There are names for women who dressed like this in my time, but I am too ashamed to utter the words.

The man scoffs and mutters, “damn feminists,” under his breath as he walks away.

“You okay?” asks the brown-eyed beauty. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you,” I respond in awe of the manner they spoke to a man. “I’m Madison,” says the African American woman, “and this is Rachelle.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, “my name is Anne.”

“Nice to meet you, Anne. You look a little lost. Are you headed to a costume party somewhere or a character on the strip?” asks Madison. I furl my eyebrows until I realize they are pointing out my apparel. I did not get the opportunity to modernize my wardrobe and am still wearing my polka-dotted dress and black heels. I smile awkwardly.

“No actually, I was, um,” I pause in an attempt to form the words that explain my situation. “I am not from this time,” I say. The looks on their faces tell me that was not the right way to phrase it. “I apologize, I meant to say, I was cryogenically frozen in 1952 and just woke up in 2019.” Their faces begin to ease. “Oh, Dr. Greenberg’s experiment,” Madison says excitedly, "I was reading about that in my biology class at Standford. I’m shocked you made it without injury. You’ll have to tell us more about it.”

“Madison here is a huge nerd. She’s studying to be a biochemist,” teases Rachelle. Madison hits Rachelle in the arm with her elbow in a joking manner and says, “Says the soon to be Harvard graduate in psychotherapy.”

My eyes widen in awe. “You are able to go to college?” I ask. Their eyebrows furl in curiosity but quickly soften in understanding. “Women can do all sorts of things these days, including going to college,” says Madison.

“Oh?” I say, “I always wanted to study science but back then it was a rarity for women to attend college. My mother forced me to marry right after high school,” I say.

They raise their brows, “Married? where’s your husband?” Rachelle asks rather abruptly. Madison elbows her again and gives her a “you cannot just ask that” look.

“It is quite alright.” I say, “Yes, I was married. He died in an accident, just before I turned 35. Although I didn’t love him, with him and my parents gone, I felt there was nothing for me in 1952, which is why I agreed to be frozen. If I could not study science, I thought I could be a part of it.”

"Well," says Madison, "It's still not too late. Here, why don't you come with us, and we'll show you the ropes."

"Ropes?" I question.

"She means we'll help you get settled and teach you everything you need to know," Rachelle says.

"But first," Madison says pulling out her rectangular object, "let's take a selfie to commemorate this moment, shall we?"

"What is that object, and what is a selfie?" I ask. They giggle and ask me to smile as a flash goes off and captures our images. I look at it mesmerizingly. "Is this a modern camera then?" I ask.

"It's a camera, a phone, and a computer all in one," Madison says.

I blink profusely as my brain tries to adjust to this newfound information and technology.

Rachelle swings her hand over my shoulder and around my neck. "You have much to learn young Padawan."

"What is a Padawan?" I ask.

They laugh. "Just come on. First stop, shopping," Madison says.

Shopping. Finally, something I understand.

As we walk towards the shops, I wonder if perhaps I have misjudged 2019 and that there is more good than bad. If women can become scientists, I cannot wait to discover what else we can do.

Suddenly the future is not looking so dim.

"When I grow up I want to be...an astronaut...no wait...an actress...or maybe a doctor like you daddy!"

He strokes her sweat stained hair as it rests upon her pale face.

"Daddy?" she says, "why are you crying?" He wipes his flooding tears from his puffy red cheeks. "What? Me? I'm not crying. They're tears from how much you make me laugh," he lies.

"But you weren't laughing daddy, and I didn't say anything funny," she coughs.

He gulps. "You're always funny to me cupcake. No matter what you say."

She smiles at her father who drinks in his daughter's porcelain face. She has her mother's ocean blue eyes, the same eyes that hypnotized him when they first met and kept him hypnotized until they closed forever. His daughter's eyes are all that remain on her tiny, fever-striken face, and now, soon they too will close, never to open again.

"Daddy, I'm not going to grow up am I?" she says.

Sobs fill the back of his throat. He couldn't save his wife and, despite all the clinical trials, numerous tests and experimental drugs, he couldn't save his daughter either. He opens his mouth to answer but the held-back sobs find their voice instead. He crashes his face into his palms sobbing, unable to look at his daughter and tell her the truth. She strokes her father's shoulder with her frail, shaking hand and smiles brightly with her big blue eyes.

"It's okay daddy, I'm not scared. Mommy said she was waiting for me up there, and she said it wouldn't hurt anymore."

He looks up at her as shivers vibrate throughout his body. "You talked to mommy?" he asks. She nods weakly. "She visited me in my dream, and she said she couldn't wait to hold me in her arms. She was so pretty, daddy. I wish you saw her. She had big blue eyes like mine." He wished more than anything to see her, to hold her again and have her scent stain his shirts like before. His daughter was a baby when his wife died from the same disease that now encompassed his daughter. He used to show his daughter pictures of her mommy, and always pointed out his wife's big blue eyes. Although, as a doctor and a man of science, he believes that it was merely a fever dream, it oddly gives him hope.

"She had a message for you too daddy," she says. He perks up, intrigued by the words to follow.

"Did she now? And what did she say?" he humors her.

"She said 'it wasn't your fault. That you did all you could to save her and me, and that she loves you. And even though you want to do it, it's not your time yet.' What were you going to do daddy?" He sits up in his seat, taken aback by these words. His daughter couldn't have possibly known what he was planning upon her death. She couldn't have known that he set out to take numerous sleeping pills, now hiding in his pocket, and lay his head next to his daughter's as they both drew their last breath. He can feel his pulse racing. He takes deep breaths in an effort to regain his composure. He takes the pills from his pocket and stares at them. He walks towards the bathroom and contemplates heavily about his next move when he hears his daughter's voice.

"Daddy?"

He tosses the pills into the toilet and flushes them as he rushes back to his daughter's bedside.

"Nothing now sweetheart," he says, "Nothing. How are you feeling?" he asks, stroking her burning, scrawny cheek.

"Tired," she says breathing heavily, "It's getting hard to breathe. Will you hold me?"

He smiles down at his daughter as he weeps heavily, tears staining his cheeks and lips. "Of course I will," he says, crawling into her bed and holding her tight as his tears crash upon her brittle face.

"Dah-dah-dee" she struggles to say as her breath shortens and she fights for air.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here, baby,"he sobs. Her body twinges in his arms as it battles for oxygen only to lose miserably. He sits there, taking in their last moments as he weeps and screams uncontrollably. He wonders what posessed him to throw away the pills. He could have died with her, with them both, but here he sits with his daughter's small and lifeless body in his arms, all because of some words his wife allegedly said from beyond...if there even is a beyond. "Why!" he screams as he rocks back and forth,"Why!" He looks down at his daughter's motionless face and brushes her blonde locks from her small forehead. He's suddenly reminded of his momentary feeling of hope. Hope that what his daughter said was true, hope that she did in fact reunite with her mommy and hope that one day he would join them too.

Death is not painful for the one who dies but for those who bothered to care. Rather, life is painful. A twisted beauty, life draws you in with its false promises as it whispers sweet nothings into your ear, only to disappoint. As time goes on and we become older, the illusions fade. The pain and heartache have settled in as we desperately fight to clutch onto the other side of the grass; but alas, most never reach the greener side as they are left in the cold, dead and fruitless dirt. In the end, for most, death is not painful...it is freedom.