Books piled high on the desk, papers scattered everywhere, pencils chewed at the tip, pens empty of ink. The older people say that school is over too soon; kids can't be taken care of because they are too wild. Personally, I agree but for a different reason. It is over too soon because the stress of keeping up with deadlines is good for my character, going to bed exhausted because I have thought too hard is sensational. Crying my eyes out because I have had too much trouble and then figuring out the answer with a shout of triumph is exhilerating. School is my life. What do I do in the summer? Sit, read, draw, write, more school. School is what keeps me going on those days that I have to stay home because of quarantine. I will miss you school. It will be over too soon.

I can show you the world under the sea. Isn't it neat? Forget about your worries and your strife. It's a world of laughter a world of tears. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

Stop stop stop you are going to poke someone's eye out and besides you are saying it all wrong! Well if you think you're so smart, then you do it. Now, if you two don't mind, I'm off to bed before you get yourselves killed, or worse, expelled. She sure does need to sort out her priorities.

I would swap places with the "me" I should be, the "me" I dream of being. The "me" who has school under control. The "me" who pays attention at mass. The "me" who feels the presence of God more powerfully. The "me" who loves stronger, and the "me" who is more worthy of the love she receives. No one else can do better than that. Boyfriend or not, I would be happy if I were the "me" God wants me to be. The best "me" ever.

(I know this is different from what you want, but this is what I wish for)

You may say it was just my present parents who changed my life, but I say it was God. My biological parents didn't care for me. Hey, I didn't even care for me because I didn't know who I was. God helped my foster family find me. God guided me to them. I even got a few extra siblings through it. But most of all, I got myself. I knew who I was and I loved me. I knew who my parents were and I love(d) them. If I hadn't been adopted I wouldn't be alive today. God has been at work in my life. Thank you God.

Even if I had to start all over again, I would still choose you. You gave me birth. You nursed me to life. You fed me and taught me the ways to be good. You gave me friends. You encouraged me in hard times. You gave me siblings. You gave me compassion. You were my companion. But then, it changed. Rushing you to the hospital almost every day. I had to be your friend, your companion, your teacher, your nurse. Tears poured every day from my eyes lacking sleep. Constantly I pounded on my pillow asking why it had to happen. But throughout this time I thought back to when you were my companion, freind, nurse, and life. I repeated to myself: "Even if I had to start all over again, I would still choose you."

She was standing out in the cold, bright eyes, but with a shadow behind them. She was raving about food. I went up to her and said: "I would take your place for the world just to stand there instead of you. I would give you my parents, my siblings, and my situation in life to be on the streets with eyes so bright they could burn the onlooker." She stared at me. "Why are you so interested? I have no one and nothing but my Lord and Savior." I sobbed and said: "That is what I want." She took my hand. "Do not cry but be comforted and go back to your house and do good." Was it pity or empathy?

It hurts to know that I don't help as much as I should. I am lazy. My mom and dad work to keep the house up and flourishing. And what do I do? Sit, draw, write, read, and school (not to mention eat). it makes me cry at night. I feel hopeless. What should I really be doing? my heart hurts. I feel as if I make my parents' hearts hurt. I tease my siblings, don't study enough, and drink up the milk. I don't know how to fix it. I try, I don't succeed. It hurts.

It may have been when you said you didn't like animals and I decided I would hate you. Deep down I knew that I wouldn't. I knew I love you, I just didn't think it in the front of my brain. As the months went by I knew that I loved you and that you loved me. I wanted to tell you, to hold your hand, to make you understand. But I knew I didn't have to. You knew. You loved me. Then the day came when all outside the world was dark and stormy. The clouds were crying and the sky was yelling. But you, you were holding my hand and whispering the words I had longed to hear: "I love you." The sun burst inside our hearts, and suddenly the world was the brightest and most wonderful it had ever been. We were in love.

It was a dream. No, not really. I never sleep. My brain is always awake, thinking of the ways the world could be better. No more hatred, no more quarantine, no more people disobeying the rules, no more overwhelming sleepiness, no more life without clear definition. What am I?

You cheated me. I think that is what she said. Then, shockingly, she said, I forgive you. I turned back. No. Yes, she said I should hate you. I open up. It was not my choice. My mother dying, my sister starving, my dad deep in the ground covered with rotten leaves and worms. I felt like saying: "I should hate you." Why did she have what I didn't? Crying together we found each others' hands. Grasping each other we look and simultaneously say: "I should hate you, but I love you." Once enemies, now best friends.