New Year, New Me

As the new year comes you find almost every person saying that they want to change their life around. Why do you wait until the new year to create a new beginning? You can change you any time you would want. Why don’t people do it? Well, this isn’t my case. I have been slowly changing myself for a few months now.. And I have set so many goals. I will graduate college, I will apply myself to everything that I do. I will fall in love, marry and start a family. I wont make excuses for this. I will accomplish so much in my life. I am dedicated.

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If Monday was a Person

Monday. Everyone hates it. Despise it even. But everyone still lives it. They have to. If Monday was a person it would be someone that has a important job, but everyone hates the person that works it. So a bank teller or a insurance agent. Everyone has to deal with them. Monday’s hate their job, they do it with no enthusiasm.

I Find Peace in the Rain

A gunshot echoed though the house and it seemed to ricochet off of my bones. I hear foots steps running towards me, but I feel like gravity is getting more dense around me. I hear the backdoor slam and I found myself following after. My body feels heavier than usual, the blood seemed to flow a little slower. Was I drugged? I scan the backyard but come up empty. But something catches my eye, my white shirt is no longer white. My heart begins to race and my body seemed to quake. I’ve been shot. I have been shot by an unknown assailant in the abdomen. My stomach became uneasy. I force myself down the stair into the slow drizzle. I collapse, grasping my open abdomen, applying steady pressure. I can’t die. Not here. Not now. What did I do to deserve this? My eyes became heavy, breathing seemed to become much easier and I lay my head back against the damp grass. The stars seemed to taunt me, showing me there’s so much in this world. So much I’m leaving. But I can’t fight it anymore. I chose to be with the darkness. My eyes closed, my heart became silent. I found peace in the rain.

Love

Love is such a strong word. Yet we throw it around so leniently. “OH EM GEE! I LOVE that outfit!” or “Even though I just met you, I totally am so in love with you.” But I think people are missing the meaning, yes you might love the idea, or the purpose of it. But are those butterfly creating feelings of love there? Does the thought of it bring the heart rate up? Love is meant to be saved, saved for someone who deserves it. Love is so powerful. Powerful enough to have the thought cross that you would take a bullet for it. Would you take a bullet for the outfit you just “LOVED”? You would defend it any time, any place, for any reason. That’s real, true, powerful love. Love isn’t just a word, theres so much more attached to it, keep it safe. Use it only when you mean it.

Dreams

There are seven billion people in this world. Three hundred and sixteen million live in the United States of America. The northern coast of the united states is at a record high 71,945,553. And then there is you. You are such a small attribute to this over populated planet. But, one person can make a large impact on this world. Take the discoverer of electricity, chemotherapy, water purification. These inventions and discoveries have impacted and evolved civilization as we know. But some people can take their thoughts and their dreams and create something negative, i.e. HIV, AIDS, Ebola. But dreams thrive when you have ambitions. Ambitions thrive when you have a purpose. To have a purpose you much put yourself out there. Use your brain, your voice, your heart. One small action can change the world. Get out there, dedicate yourself, use all of your rigorous potential and do something with yourself. Everyone deserves to live to their full potential, don’t sell yourself short.

Why me?

Everyone has been faced with the cunning decisions of life. Some life changing, others just simply making a decision on what type if Krispy Kreme to indulge with. Everyone has experienced loss, love, hardship, but not everyone has been stuck with a life or death situation. I’m Mia, a heart transplant recipient with a rare blood type and a heart full of joy and laughter. I was 13 when the first episode happened. Playing soccer with my little sister, I dropped to the ground in agony as what felt like needles pierce my chest in a million different places. Never in my life have I experienced pain like this; I have nothing to compare it to. I was panicking which made the rush of pain come in waves, each one worse than the next. People say that death comes fast and takes you away quickly. But for me, it came quickly and anticipated on taking me. I fought back, I tried crawling to the surface of living but the pain never let up. The blackness was closing in. Do I let it sweep me away? Or do I fight back? Live to see another day? A glimmer of hope flashed be for me, my family. I have to live for them because they can’t live without like I can’t live without them. I fought, I fought for each breath and the pain to subside.
I woke up the next morning in the ICU and was panicking, but my heart rate didn’t raise, which made my adrenaline levels rise more and more. I searched for my parents, a nurse, someone to give me a explication. I remember vaguely the nurse coming in and asking me my pain levels and if I needed more medicine to make the pain subside. Then the doctor came in and told me what was wrong with me. It all started with a undetected heart murmur that became a hole which created a rare condition where I mimic heart attacks. Then he told me the news, I’ll be put on the list for heart transplant. But the kicker was that I had a 15 percent chance of living. The odds that my body would accept the new heart. I was overwhelmed. Do I choose to risk my life with this surgery and die on the table? Or do I live till my last breath and die in pain at any unspoken time and place? What if it’s a year? Three years? I could get more days, or I get the surgery and live more days than the small odds of waiting it out. I chose to live. I chose to have the surgery the following day, and as you can tell, I survived. I’m now 64 and swimming two and a half miles across the channel every morning. I’m still alive and I’m still kicking. I wake up every morning with a craving for life. I’m forever in debt to the man who donated my heart.

hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia

The fear of long words… OH THE IRONY!!!! But honestly, I hate annoying long words. Why might I hate them? Well, sixth grade, unit 6, SPELLING BEE. Oh my.. There was this torturous word. 42 letters long. Monoultramicroscopicphilacomasilaconious. Meaning? Well, its a technical word referring to volcanos. Ever since then, I fear I will run into another one of these horrible words. Ever time I pronounce them is hippo-popomonnomous….. It like a toddler trying to pronounce Jet ski (JeKski), and yes I am speaking from experience with that word. I often run into the “long word mumbo jumbo” not at school, but at my internship. I intern at a large animal hospital, and let me tell ya, theres all sorts of “technical” words. I honestly think they make these words so long on purpose, like they know its torture to learn them, so lets make every medical term super long!!!! Even movies like long words-  Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. OVER THE TOP WORDS ARE EVERYWHERE!!!!! WHY!?!?!?! The inventers of these words probably are laughing mischievously while putting there pinky to the corner of their mouths… Spawns.