What if we were all a little bit kinder,

not only to others, but to ourselves?

What if we stopped worrying about ourselves

and focused a little bit more on the needs of others?

What if everyone in the world said two nice things to two different people every day?

What if we all tried to smile at every person we met every day?

What if we were all a little bit kinder?

What if when things got hard, we didn't stop to think "poor me,"

but instead thought, "who else might be facing the same thing I am,

that I might be able to help?"

What if we helped others up,

instead of bringing them down?

If we were all a little bit kinder,

If we all smiled and tried to be nice,

If we got up in the morning and thought, who could I help today,

The world would quickly become a better place.

I liked him first. But that's ok. I have standards unlike you that I won't break. He came to our lunch table. He asked ME to sit with ME and my friends. YOU came along and told me you liked him. I was annoyed, usually I wouldn't but this the the third time this happened. I told you I liked him. But I have standards. I wasn't going to do things except as frineds till we were a little older. I told you that. Suddenly you start talking to him and telling me all the things he was doing for you. He walks you to class now. He texts you ALL the time. I got up the nerve to ask for his number one day and ten minutes later you get it less awkwardly and smoother. My friends hate you at our table now. They all know how much I like him. They see how much you don't ever let me talk to him because you have to tell him all about your family or how you aren't allowed to do this or this. I don't think I like him any more. Just because it's too much work to fight you.

I've almost switched tables four times. I think I actually will tomorrow. I think he and I will just be friends, and I will be totally fine with that. But. If you ever hurt him. If you ever decide to hurt me more than you have. If you ever decide your BORED of him and move on to the next one. You better believe you won't be my friend. You better believe I won't sit with you. You better believe this time I AM mad at you. You better believe that if you ever hurt one of my friends, you will answer to me. I actually don't care if you hurt me, I know I can wipe it off, becuase it isn't a reflection of me. It's a reflection of you. You better know you'll be sorry if you hurt him.

So many friends around.

All of them talking about the same old dramas.

Noise, annoying noise.

Why couldn't people be quiet for a minute? Listen to the silence, the silence of their own thoughts.

Friends make so much noise. They try to figure out your silence and get you to be loud with them.

Why ccouldn't they see this was not friendship?

Friendship is being able to be silent and knowing exactly what the other was thinking.

No awkward silence, comfortable silence when you can just stare at the stars with your thoughts and not have to think of what your going to say next.

So many people around saying so little with so many words.

What would they do if they had a moment of silence?

The frost was coming on, his bones always ached and groaned when the frost came. Hart looked over at Aiden, his young apprentice, who worked on carving a delicate jewel box for one of the bakers wife, who would give it to her daughter on Dnes Day. This time of year was their busiest, when everyone would spend their well earned money in the feilds on gifts for others. The skill of Aidens hands was remarkable, almost as good as his own, but he knew that that wasn't a good thing either. He would be taken, and who would be left to make free toys for the children when Hart died? Dnes Day was a good and bad day, it let others show their love and give presents, be merry in the deariness of winter. But if your child was taken, if they were talented, or stood out, then it was a terrible time.

Hart looked out the window, remembering many years ago, how he escaped. He was the only one smart enough to outsmart the smart. They were the most talented and he beat them, but would Aiden be able to?

"Sir? Is everything alright?" Aiden asked humbly.

Hart looked out the window just in time to see the last leaf fall on the aspen tree he grew up with. The world was a painting of warm colors, deep reds and sunny yellows, warm colors, and not so warm air. This winter would be the coldest they'd had. He looked at Aiden, studying his questioning face, face full of concern for him and his old age. He was the oldest in the village. People weren't supposed to last this long, too much like magic they said. And this town had enough of magic.

"Aiden my boy, you are gifted," Aiden paled at the words, everyone knew what that meant. "I am not letting them take you. You will not be taken this year or next year, then you will be free from their hold,"

Aiden dared to let hope into his eyes. "How sir?"

"I did it, long long ago, it was, but if I can, you must be able to as well,"

"How?" Aiden was ready, he didn't want to give up his life here, escepcially with a certain bakers daughter.

"I will teach you everything I can, but know that you must use your own wits to get away. It will take more than just physical strength, many have tried but they are smart,"

Aiden nodded, rubbing his hands together in the cold, though he was next to the fire, jewel box forgotten on his chair. His eyes reflected wirth the fire as he stared into it. A determined look came onto his face. "I'm ready,"

Every single person in the world has magic.

Some have the magic to change a bunch of different things into one amazing thing,

Others have the ability to physically do things with ease, no work needed.

Others are able to imagine and create and see things in the world and put them on a page in various shades and hues, making it emotional and amazing, and unique.

More still have the ability to know what others are thinking and feeling and are able to say exactly what we need them to.

And yet some in the world never realize their magic, so make others feel better, to make beautiful sounds out of wood and metal, they shut it inside, bury it deep.

Many wonder why, if they have magic, why not use it and develop it?

Because people choose, and sometimes those who have developed their magic more than others makes other feel like they should give up before they mess up.

Everyone has escepcially one gift. The power to bring a person down, and the power to ignite the magic in even the most buried of souls.

It is always a choice.

Choose what your magic will do, because your magic forms you. It forms others.

Every single person in the world has magic, make your magic bring out the magic in others.

I’d rather laugh than cry,

forgive than turn to anger,

and inspire rather than impress.

If the world did more of the last one,

I think we would do more laughing.

A little less crying.

A bit more forgiving.

A little less anger.

The world would be beautiful.

You say you love the rain, but then you want to stay inside on a tiny blue screen and music. I say come dance with me, you say but then you couldn't hear the music. I say I'd sing for you, I'd make you laugh, I'd be a better person, all for you. I can't. You can't. You say you want me. Is it true? Then put your phone down and have a real conversation. You say we'd hang out. You cancel. I go help out at a carnival. I ask what you did. Video Games. You say you'd break if you lost me, but would you break more if you couldn't have electronics? You call riding bikes old fashioned. I call it memorable. I won't call you out. I can't. You've been broken too much. But when, when will you be the one to plan when we meet, when will you be the one who can make a list of everything they like about you? When will you understand that I shed tears for three nights as you decided between me and another girl. I can't shed tears for when you choose electronics over me. I can't, and I won't. You say you love me. But how can you? You know nothing about me except maybe for my favortie color. I know everything about you, I start the conversations, I don't want to be the one to end them. I can't, so I won't. But I'll dance in the rain, I'll sing as loud as I can to drown out the noise. I'll laugh. I'll make memories. I'll break. I'll cry. But I'll also get up again. Maybe I will shed tears. but maybe I'll wipe them away and get a good rest, knowing tomorrow I'll be a better person. I'll rebel, will you notice? Maybe you can't. I will.