It feels great to love someone like you Even though I was there three times I pinky-promise you I won’t be there for the fourth Was I ever your undercover lover? Did you mean all the things you said? When I’m ready to collapse I put you in my mind to have you put Me back on my feet again I know that I’m not only daydreaming But that I’ve awoken to a world we so-call Reality You’ve known about my love But never owned or earned it But the sound of your voice Lightens my way to paradise Daydreaming of you makes me stronger You tell me that we’re never going to be Our love was never decided But in my mind it was.

Love and pain playing under the rain Her attention they want to obtain But she’s moving away from them She wants to run away Because of all the things she had to face. She lives under the dark side of the clouds When we see blue, she sees black People see the pain, but don’t understand the facts There’s always an exit to every stage of the problem Should I give her directions to the right exit? I see her pain She feels it No one else does When she smiles, she feels the weight How does she manage to show what she does not feel or have?

A big beautiful house, filled with rooms, filled with people. Everyone was all over the place preparing for the wedding. I needed a getaway from this getaway trip to South Dakota. The stress and focus was contagious. I longed for some quiet and peace. Roaming around the house, I looked through several different doors. I finally came upon a glass one with the most beautiful view of trees and the clear blue sky. Nature at its best. Turning the knob slowly, a sudden wave of coldness hit me. The cool breeze against my skin with the bright sun in my face was so pleasing. The silence was so absolute, I could hear the whistling wind and the leaves on the trees. A perfect spot to get away from nonsense. I sat on the patio swing, rocking back and forth. Observing all around me, it all seemed so foreign. I was surrounded by pure emerald green for the first time ever, even mountains of it. Fresh air, no sounds of cars. Plugging in my headphones, I kept swinging. I looked at the sky suddenly turn orangey-red as the sun was setting. Living in the city, I realized, was making me miss out on nature’s beauties.

A hot summer night makes for a restless morning. The digits on the clock are at a standstill, and it seems like it’s been that way forever. My chestnut-colored lenses are weary, yet restless at the same time. I continue to glue them to the screens that surround me. My phone goes off at every moment. Sometimes I wish it would shut off on its own, get away, and just leave me in silence. Inside these four giant borders there is calm, the only place in the world where I am as completely relaxed as this still oak floor. Anywhere outside is chaos and ruckus. While the sounds of police sirens or screams, shouts, and panic go off on the frigid cold streets, I still feel at peace in this bedroom. You could say it’s something like a safeguard to me. Even with all of this, sleep is something that seems to run away from my mind. I see sunlight shining through the blinds and sometimes yearn for it. At the same time, the only time when the house is ever at a standstill is in the deep navy night, and in the early mornings. In a way, I want this feeling through- out the whole day. When my puny nieces and nephews are sprinting in and out of my cave, I want that silence, that peace, that tranquility. Being alone is a gift at times; you want it when you don’t have it, and vice versa. That moment when you come home after a long, tiring day and just leap into your sheets is the best feeling in the universe. The marshmallow-like pillows absorb all my dreams, all my thoughts, all my words. The walls sort of talk to me, they listen to me. My eyelids are fighting each other as the birds chirp outside the glass screens behind the shades, and slowly, but surely, finally...sleep.

The most memorable place I’ve been is the restaurant I went to in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. The trip to get there took about 10 minutes from our hotel. We instantly spotted it by its sun roof, which had the Italian flag colors: red, green, and white. The restaurant was small, but very exquisite. There were potted plants in the windows, which had white curtains. It looked like someone’s home in Italy, rather than a public place to eat. Upon entering through the glass doors, there was a wall with a board that showed pictures of the owner. She seemed in her late 60s and had a very happy expression on her face. Then, you could see the dining room. There were glass chandeliers. The tables were round and covered with red tablecloths. The white ceramic plates shimmered in the soft light. In the center of each table was a slim vase with a single red rose. The napkins, with the forks, knives, and spoons, were neatly folded into place. My parents both ordered a dish with all the seafood you could possibly think of: shrimp, mussels -- all tossed in a white sauce. The plate looked like a rainbow with all different colors of seafood. I chose the simple spaghetti and meatballs with tomato sauce. Over the low chatter there was music playing in the background. Italian music. At first, I thought it was coming from speakers, but it was a real, live accordion player. Our food arrived in 20 minutes, one platter after the other. It was delicious. After only the first few bites I was already satisfied, but it was probably because before my plate had arrived, I’d had a bel- lyful of garlic bread with olive oil in a wonderful herb and tomato sauce as well as a bowl of delicious soup. After that, I’d had a plate of green salad: lettuce, tomatoes, mini black olives, red onions, and green peppers with Italian dressing. All that plus the huge plate of spaghetti and two large meatballs fried to perfection without any of the grease -- all smothered in fresh tomato and herb sauce. My par- ents were both satisfied, as well as my grandmothers, my sister, and me. Especially me.