I've spent most of my life living in the desert, more specifically in Utah. Maybe it's not a true desert, but to most peoples imagination it meets the criteria. You mention boring, but in truth its one of the most unique and beautiful landscapes you can find. Even when it's corrupted by the human hand the windswept land scape quickly wipes it out, purifying it once again. In many ways it's like looking out into the ocean. Waves crest and fall, it may be the same landscape constantly, but it forever changes, never to really be the same in each passing moment. Imagine this, wind whistles in your ears as you slowly crest the top of the next dune, sand pelts your skin like harsh rain drops as the sun blisters your hands, along your next your face covering billows in the wind. There's not a soul for miles, finally you reach the top. Off in the distance dust devils swirl and sand is carried to the next dune forever changing this landscape like the tides of the ocean.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. The pain of the text is still fresh in my mind. It hadn’t even been two days. What else could be wrong?

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” I said, knowing that responding would only make tomorrow that much harder. “I’m fine.” I quickly typed out that second message before she could respond. The tears splashed down on the bright screen. I clenched the phone in my hands, watching the bottom corner, my heart thumped as I waited for those three little bubbles. Just block her. Get it over with. She’s not coming back… but what if she does? That little bit of hope. The ‘I still love you,’ text from the other night, was just enough, because what if she does come back?

“Please?” Her text asked simply. “I’m sorry,” the second text chimed through.

My fingers hovered over the keypad, a cloud of emotions hovered behind my eyes. What was I supposed to say? Loving her has been nothing but pain.

“For which part?” I typed it out and sent it before I could even fully think about it.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her text coming through instantly. Did she feel the same way I did? Did she regret her decision? Was her phone shaking her hands, and her tears blurring out the words?

“Which part are you sorry for?” This time my finger hovered over the send button, before moving up to delete the message. “Nevermind, don’t worry about it,” I said instead.

“Please, talk to me,” she said. “I still love you, what’s going on?”

My fingers dug into the sides of my phone. Long-distance relationships are a bitch. What, am I supposed to tell her that if I knew the magic words that would get her back, I’d tell them to her every night? Am I supposed to say that if I knew how to get her to see herself the way that I see her, then she’d feel like the most beautiful girl in the world? Or that every second I spent not talking to her, was spent planning our lives together? Or maybe I should tell her that not kissing her every day was pain, and not holding her every night was pain that tore at me every second. I could tell her that when I look at the sky, all I can do is think of her, and there’s nothing I want more than to hold her hand and sing terribly to our favorite songs. I could tell her that I would spend every second of every day I breathe going through that pain if it meant I could still call her mine. I would go through it all if I could still wake up to those good morning texts, those rare nights of her hair in my face, listening to her snore. But I know deep down that even if I could get her back by saying all of those things, I’d be constantly scared of the next breakup text. Maybe it’s worth it if it buys me one more night. For a moment I consider typing it out and telling it all. But I took a deep breath and powered down my phone, and tried to get some sleep.

The answer isn't that simple, it's not a choice or because you were born into them. By that I mean love of any kind is constantly evolving. At first it may be because you were born into your family but as life goes on it kind of evolves into a choice. Sure there may be strong biological ties, but you have to choose to love them. You have to choose that even on the bad days they are worth it. At first though you love your family because they are all you know and they brought you into this world. Later on though it's because you want somebody to love you back.

Out of habit I checked my phone again this morning. I don't know why I keep the thing around. It's nothing but a useless black brick now. Nothing from it to offer any hope, just a blank reminder. I guess I could try to use it as a weapon when someone decides to raid my house.

The food in the fridge went bad over a week ago. The scent is growing stronger every day. I guess that's my goal for today. Just go through and throw away what I have to and ration what I can. Can't rely on the super markets either. Not that I have access to a car any more. All of those went out with the cell phones. Besides, some asshole family walled off the parking lot and is leaving the rest of us to starve though. Rumor is there will be a raid in a couple of days. Maybe I'll try to get in on that.

I did take my dog for a walk though. I don't know if it's worth building memories with him though. I just know if I live long enough I'm going to have to eat him... God I wish I would have died in that first wave. If only I was in my car when the EMP hit I could have been killed in that big eighteen car pile up. At least then all of this shit would be over for me. But nope. I guess I'm not that lucky. I'm just cursed to live another day. I just hope I don't die right before things start getting better. And if I do live through this I hope Charlie (my dog) is right there with me.

P.S. If I die and somebody finds this, please take care of Charlie. Assuming he's still alive.

If a truth is man made then it is impossible for it to be absolute. If a truth is universal though, then it is absolute. You see a man made truth is always corrupted with the bias of a side and can work much like opinions. A non-fiction book may be true, but it always will carry a bias of one side over another. Where as a fiction book is obviously fake but they generally contain a lesson of truth. I think Neil Gaiman said it best, "Fairy tales are more than true, not because they tell us dragons exist. But because they tell us dragons can be beaten."

"You, you son of a bitch," She screamed. Tears streamed from her eyes and the door cracked behind her.

"Honey, I can explain." I fumbled with the button. It wasn't working. "It's not what you think."

"You swore I was the only one." Her voice cracked as she raised her knife. Cold sweat dripped down my face as she backed me into the closet. There was no where left to run.

"You swore on every star that I was the one." The tears stopped falling. Her face burned red as her words seeped with rage. The knife trembled in her hand. This was it.

She raised the knife. I raised my hands to shield my face. A cool rush of air rushed past my hands. Ha, she missed! The knot in my stomach loosened as I opened my eyes. There it was. She fell back into the wall with a thud. The clothes rack fell on top of her as she collapsed to the ground with the knife sticking out of her gut. Blood pumped out staining the white carpet.

Her fading eyes locked on mine. "I swear by every star in the sky you will remember me." Then the last flicker of light faded from her eyes as I stepped out of the closet.

As someone who works in two seperate treatment centers I have had the amazing opportunity to work with some great kids. Some are a handful and annoying beyond belief. And there is one common denominator I can find among all the kids. They all just want somebody to love them. Thanks to their upbringings though they don't know how to get love. Parents these days are the bigger problem, they don't parent their kids. They are either trying to be the best friend while their kids get drunk, do drugs, or steal. Or they are so abusive that kids go in to survival mode just to make it through the next day. It's not the kids fault its parents who dont know the line between friendship and parenting, or abuse and a punishment.

I'm sorry I know this is kind of all over the place. But when you work where I do you learn that almost everything a troubled kid does is a cry for help. And most of the time those cries for help stem from something a parent isn't doing for that kid.

Now don't get me wrong, I've seen some amazing parents who have done all they can for their kids but nothing works. And those kids are generally the adopted ones. A lot of times they don't believe that anyone can love them because their birth parents gave them up. Whether that was for better or worse is besides the point. The kid doesn't know that, they just know they were given up.

In the end it's not the kids. Its situations that create mental trauma and issues in a world where almost nobody cares to help them.

“Well if you would have told me the truth when you figured out the potion didn’t work I would have. Excuse me for wanting to fit in with everyone else in my damn life. Excuse me for wanting to be a part of your world.” Tears poured down my face. She stood her ground but her demeanor softened again. “Do you know what it’s like being the odd one out? Waking up every morning knowing that there is this whole other world full of magic, monsters, spells and wizards? Do you know how bad it hurts to watch your family do the things you can only dream about, knowing that you’ll never truly be a part of it?” I lost complete control of myself, my voice cracked as sobs took over. “And to top it all off, do you have any idea how bad it hurts knowing that your birth family didn’t want you simply because of who you are?”

I paused and took another deep breath. My vision was blurred through the tears. “Because I know what that feels like and it fucking hurts.” I collapsed down onto the bones and let my sobs loose. My cries echoed throughout the pit