I don't expect you to be strong every time I see you.

I don't expect you to be perfect whenever I'm with you.

You're allowed to feel weak.

You're allowed to have bad days and embarrassing moments.

I don't expect you to hide your scars

I don't expect you to bottle up your emotions

You're allowed to be naked

You're allowed to scream and cry

I don't expect you to smile through everything.

I don't expect you to lift me every time I'm down.

You're allowed to frown

You're allowed to be unable to bear any more weight

I only expect you to love me.

You're allowed to show it the best way you can.

My best friend asked me this question last week, and I scoffed at it. Now, I'm looking at this same question two weeks later, and you can bet I scoffed at it again.

What would I do if I was free?

I've never been a slave, but I've also never been free. It's a very thought-provoking question.

Ultimately, I'd chase impulses and endorphins. I'd fill my life with happiness and thrills. I'd write, I'd run, I'd paint, I'd drink... I think I'd even fly. Nothing would be weighing me down, so it would probably be impossible not to lift up into the air.

But tomorrow, tomorrow, would be a day of realization.

I'd still be processing everything and trying to understand it all. Where should I live? Where should I go? Who should I tell?

I'd end up at my favorite restaurant and get an entire order of chicken wings and day drink. I'd catch an Uber to a local bar-cade and play Ms. Pacman and Pinball until there were no more tokens left behind the bar. I'd grab an Uber back home and stumble through my narrow hallway with a snide grin on my face and a slight stutter in my step as I danced drunkenly through the hall to what my neighbors would perceive as "no music at all."

I'd call my favorite people to check in on them, as I always do when I'm drunk. Then I'd pass out in my bed.

Google tells me that diamonds are the hardest thing in the world, but if I could turn heartbreak, grief, or pain into something tangible and throw it as hard as I can, a diamond wouldn't stand a chance.

For me, the hardest thing about life is time. Optimistically, I think life is filled with so many memorable moments and so many meaningful people, but we only get a finite amount of time with them. There are so many moments I want to relive, recreate, and build upon.

But time is complex. Not only does time keep moving, but it moves in different directions for everyone. Not all of my friends are the same people they used to be; they don't all live in the same place or have the same circumstances. Unfortunately, some are no longer even here with us.

And time made me come to terms with that.

Time is the hardest thing about life because no matter what I do, I'll experience it. It will force me to. I can avoid close relationships and never experience heartbreak. I can never venture out of my comfort zone and hopefully never feel pain or failure. Diamonds are easy to avoid; I can simply never buy them. But no matter where I run or how much I hide, time will make me deal with it.

You already said it, It's just out of order. You move on with your life, and the getting over someone part comes later.

It's frustrating to try to force it to heal faster than it's going to and I encourage you not to rush into something faster than you should. I've been on the receiving end of that. It's not fun dating someone that's mentally dating their ex.

When the tears stop the hurt will still be there, but I'd invite you to rediscover who you were when you were single or if it's been some time. Find out who you are as an individual. Are you into the working out, writing, gaming, sports, partying, etc? You've got nothing, but time now. Fill it with something.

Voids are supposed to be filled.

Give yourself time, but make sure you're filling that time with things you enjoy. There's no deadline for your next relationship.

In a fit of panic and regret, she let out a scream and pressed her foot down on the gas. She raced up the empty highway until she disappeared into the poorly lit forest. West Ridge Mountain was known for many things. Summer camps, outdoor parties, the annual Ridgeview Fair and hiking. But the forest was massive and most of it was empty forest and wildlife. To maintain that good reputation and minimize the number of encounters with predators, forest rangers advised visitors to stay away from the eastern side of the park or proceed with caution if they ventured beyond the posted signage. However, in a fit of reckless anger, Katie drove right past the caution signs and deeper into the mountainside.

She parked her car in a visitors parking lot covered in dirt and graveled. Behind the trees and bushes where only someone on a hike would find it. She got out of her car and began walking east away from the main road with complete disregard for the signage up ahead.

*Proceed with Caution, be wary of Predators*

As if she was sending a giant "Fuck you" to the universe. She often wrote in her journal "If you think I fucked up there, just wait until you hear what I did afterward."

Katie began to walk along a trail that led her to a flat grassy area on West Ridge mountain. In the same area, they spread her grandfather's ashes. Despite all the signage and warnings, every time she came to this spot with her grandfather they never encountered any animals. She thought to herself, maybe the signs are just a lie to keep people from damaging the entire reservation. She walked out to the center of the field and looked outward. As she looked out across the forest she glanced off into the distance and stood still as the light from the sunset peered over the treetops she felt calm for the first time in a long time.

For once, there was no noise, no people, no alcohol or drugs. Just her and her thoughts. For a brief moment, she had peace, until her mind began to wander through all of the possibilities. What if her brother's injury is worse than it looked? What if nobody forgives her? What if her friends leave and Tyler never takes her back?

Her thoughts began racing and she began to panic. For once, there was nothing she could use to distract herself. For the first time in a while, she was alone with her own thoughts . At that moment, her heart began to race and her breath began to quicken and become shallow. She could feel herself having a panic attack. She laid flat in the grass with her hand across her chest trying desperately to calm herself down. And before she knew it everything went black.

She fainted.

She awoke in a cold sweat covered in grass. Only now, the once grassy field lit by the sunset was completely dark.

"This is bad! I can't see a thing." She said.

" I need to try and find a way out of here. Let me use the flashlight on my phone."

Before she could reach into her pocket, something let out a low growl from directly behind her.

Katie froze in place. Shaken by the sound. She covered her mouth desperately holding back a scream.

The growl began to move as whatever lurked behind her began to travel slowly to the right side of her body. She could feel the vibration from its growl in her chest. Although it seemed to be right next to her she couldn't make out what it was or where it was completely.

The creature circled Katie slowly. And then just like that, the growls stopped.

Katie exhaled, "The coast is clear. I hope."

She stood up slowly with her back in the direction of where she last heard the growl and before she could take off running a sharp pain combined with intense pressure shot through her forearm and dragged her to the ground.

The moment you know you're lost it's best to take moment and accept the fact that you're not sure how to get to your destination. And that's fine. Every time I've been lost it's been the result of effort or an attempt at progress.

During progress there will always be chaos.

When I'm lost like, I am now, I write. Writing has a special place in my heart. It's my escape. It's something that fills my cup and helps me get all of the chaos out of my head. Sometimes, I do it for fun. Other times it's to help get the thoughts out and sculpt them into a problem I can solve. Within writing I found a direction and focus.

And when I'm lost that's all I can ask for.

The Oxford dictionary defines love as "an intense feeling of deep affection." It's a clear and concise definition, but it's been put into layman's terms. Anyone who has been in love understands that it's hard to just isolate love solely to the word affection. Lean closer to your computer screen, glance up, and remember that last time you were infatuated by someone, obsessed with them. When was the last time you couldn't get someone out of your head?

What's the first thing your body does?

It feels.

The only thing comparable to love is a drug because it's all about how it makes you feel. Saying "I love you" is a plea for affection, gift-giving is a way to show love or appreciation, and non-verbal expressions are forms of silent intimacy. But experiencing and expressing love is a combination of all love languages. The moments of bliss that result are what make it feel special.

I've passed by this same flower every day on my walk home from school

I admire everything about it

I can even say I love it

For all its beauty, it's a wonder, its growth, and perseverance

It's survived winters, storms, and every challenge the earth has bore

I wonder what it's like to pick it up and hold it

I've even thought about taking it home and planting it

It's not my flower, but I can't lie, making it mine has crossed my mind a time or two

But what's my walk like without that flower?

Does it have the same beauty if it's in my room?

Will I admire it for all the same reasons?

Maybe the flower is special because of where it is in my life

In my best friend's garden

Maybe the flowers right where it needs to be in my life

Where it's always meant the most to me

I told one person and they leaked the news to everyone as I sprinted to my car I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Although no one was behind me it felt like I was being chased. I had this one opportunity to fly and it felt as though every sound from my phone was another person appearing behind me grabbing at my back and trying to keep me from taking off.

I never dreamed of running away or abandoning everyone. Maybe this is the person I've always been. I don't think the money is changing me, but rather, it's making me louder. It took away my fear. Because the very moment I got it, my brain told me to run and my heart told me to fly. I answered my best friend's call and screamed " You never could keep a secret. So I'm leaving you behind." then I hung up. "I answered my sister's call and could hear the excitement in her voice and my screaming nephews in the background asking where I was and if could they speak to me. "Where are you? It sounds like you're running. Are you on you're way here?" She asked.

"I don't know where I'm going, but I feel like I'm flying," I replied.

She laughed, You don't have wings and you're not weightless. So come back down to earth. Where are you?"

I jumped on the hood of my car and took a quick look at the neighborhood. It was all I'd ever known. I had only been rich for 4 minutes and I already knew, this was the last time I would see this place.

I looked at my phone while I panted from all the running. I was still in disbelief. As the sweat dripped down onto my iPhone, I looked at my sister's name across my phone. She was my closest sibling. We were inseparable, not because of the things we had in common, shared interests, favorite shows, or a sibling bond. But because she was the only one who would put up with me. But when I didn't do exactly as I was told she never batted an eye reminding me that no one wanted me. Our parents kicked me out at 14, my 4 others sisters wanted nothing to do with me and my twin brother joined the military the moment he could. We always said, "Wherever we both are is home. "

He was stationed in Japan and all I could think about was running to find him and sharing everything with the only person to ever tell me they loved me.

In my one moment of clarity, I almost forgot about my sister who was now shouting my name.

"Tyler! Tyler." She shouted.

"Rebecca, I'm going to see if what you and Dad said is true," I said.

"If what is true?"

"If I just disappeared I'd be forgotten in a week."

I heard her begin to shout my name, but before she could finish, I hung up. I switched my phone to "Do not disturb", jumped in my Pontiac, and sped up the highway.

If I walked into the Sistine chapel, the corners would not be the defining feature.

Art happens on walls. People hide in corners.

Corners encase the room, closing it off to anything on the outside. But the walls say so much about what's happened to it. You can see the complete history from there. How many coats of paint it had, dents, holes, scratches, paintings, posters, even doors.