In the ER

Pacing back and fourth across the floor, I try to remain calm. I continue to think of her recovery. I will be able to walk through the hospital room door and kiss her soft lips. She will still have her pretty face and gorgeous smile. She is okay! My heart kept telling me this but my mind knew the truth. 

It started like any other morning, we both got up for work and began to get dressed. She kissed me as she walked in the bathroom and started brushing her teeth. Shortly after I followed behind her. About an hour or so later we we dressed and standing in the garage. She had my phone. I wasn't sure what she was doing but I didn't care. She was my wife. 

When she tried to hand the phone back to me, I didn't quite grab it. Shattered my screen became instantly upon impact on the garage concrete. She picked up my phone and instantly began apologizing, I wasn't hearing her. I began yelling and screaming all over a phone. I wasn't sure why I was so angry, the phone still worked fine. As I continued to yell she started to cry, and I couldn't bear to see it so I left. I hopped in the car, let down my windows, and the last thing I heard was her saying 'I love you.' 

I would do anything to hear her voice now. I have been waiting for hours and still no word from the doctors. I need her, I can't lose her. I love her. I stopped pacing and began to cry. I say on the rough carpet beneath me and started to cry. I don't care who saw me. Our friends had come to support us, but they were too scared to talk to me. I blamed myself. If I hadn't been so mean she would be in my arms in our bed smiling. I would do anything just to see her and touch her. I want her to know she will be okay. She is okay. 

Finally, a doctor came out. I prayed for only good news. 

"Where is Ms. Jacqueline's husband?"

"I'm right here."

Our friends and I all get up and practically race towards the doctor. Countless questions escape our lips as we impatiently await his words. After what felt like centuries in this ER waiting room. Finally someone has come to speak with me. My mind began to flash to the moment I got the call. 

I answered my phone seeing my wife's name on the screen. I was almost surprised she wanted to speak with me. 

"Hello baby. I'm --" 

"Who am I speaking to? And who is the owner of this phone?" 

"This is my wife Jacqueline's phone. I'm her husband. Is there something wrong?" 

"Sir, I'm sorry to be the one to inform you that she has been in a terrible accident and has been rushed to Mercy Hospital."

I lost every bit of oxygen in me. I picked up everything and left instantly. I practically flew to the hospital. I needed my wife!

I never got a chance to thank that person who called and told me. I wasn't sure of their authority, just that they were a kind heart. Someone who cared. These thoughts brought me to tears. I couldn't believe the last time I spoke to my wife was during an argument. A stupid argument. I felt stupid. I am stupid. 

As I tuned back into reality I finally was able to hear the doctor say

"She will be fine" 

I'm so stupid I saved it as a draft instead of publishing. 😅

Our Story: 9/27/2013

Her day was starting terribly, but she still kept a smile on her face. It was finally Friday. She was happy it was her lunch and afterwards she only had one more class. She was sitting with people she had met only a month prior. She already felt close to them. She was quiet. Miscellaneous conversations bounced between her table and the one next to it. She wanted to be included so she gets up to go to the other table and continues to attempt to be involved in the discussions. Occasionally sharing a few laughs she sat down at the table she wasn’t apart of previously. After she sits, someone sits on the chair with her. She paused, and looked perplexed for a moment. Her mind said “who are you, and why are sitting on this chair with me?” but her mouth didn’t quite want to release those questions. Coming back to reality, she finally says “Did I say you could sit with me?” to the person who was quite close to her for being strangers. 

He was short but taller than her, he had a nice smile, welcoming eyes, and his hair looked soft. He looked sweet. She got so lost in studying his appearance she didn’t register his response. “You what?” she finally says tuning back into the conversation. “I was gonna move you.” he responded smoothly. She liked his voice. “Move me?” She asked. “Like physically touching me?” “Yes, I was going to lift you off the chair and place you down.” He responded. He was easy to talk to. “You’re funny. What’s your name?’” She responded smiling. "CJ, but my..." "Really? I'm CJ too! Well Cyndi Janiece. But my family calls me CJ." She interrupted, but realized she was rambling and promptly shut up. "That's cool, I've never met another CJ." He responded chuckling. He liked how she liked to talk. He felt comfortable with her. She continued to talk but he tuned out her voice to focus on her appearance.

Her eyes looked soft. Her was able to read her. She looked like she had been through a lot but she looked happy. She had a pretty smile. Her braces were pink and hey were as bright as her personality. She was dressed casually, and he liked the look on her. She continued to talk while he was lost in her. He liked her voice. She sounded mature yet welcoming. It was some what soothing. He was almost lulled to sleep. He was enjoying his moment with her. He had been awakened from his daydream by the sound of the bell. “Nice meeting you!” She says to him smiling. Before he could respond she had grabbed her bag and was on her way to class. He wanted to see her again, but he wasn’t sure how. 

She goes on with her day without a second thought of her conversation with CJ at lunch. Class was boring and she was ready for the bell to ring. After an agonizing forty eight minutes she got her wish and was leaving class. Climbing up the stairs to the third floor she wondered what she was about to do next. She had no practices, or plans with friends. She was going home with her best friend Sydney tonight with Kennedy, but that wasn’t until seven because they had practice. She had no idea how to waste three hours and forty five minutes. This made her sad and brought her back to how her day started. Terribly. With this in mind, she leaves her bags at school and left.

The Lightest Color of the Rainbow

The windows were no longer revealing the light from the outside. Walking through the hallway, she turned to see only walls. It was so dark the color was almost unrecognizable. The pink and yellow walls seemed to be mocking her. Everywhere she went she seemed to be turning the same corners into shadows. Scared, she begins going backwards, but there were no footprints to mark her trail. She begins to panic. The space seems to be getting smaller. She runs aimlessly in search of a new path. Then she sees it. The light shines through the dim hallways seemingly signifying a way out. She begins to smile inside with a sense of hope. She sprints towards the newly found happiness only to be disappointed. It was gone. It was never there. She had only imagined it. In denial, she looks for a light source only to be disappointed. She felt she was trapped running in circles. She started to wonder how she got here. What had led her to this dark place? She starts to remember her happiness and as her memories continued, they slowly started to fade away into her brain. They were now just bleak images barely in her mind anymore. She felt as though she has fallen underground and life was too far above, and out of reach. 

It was not always like this. The yellow and pink would dance and smile with her. Nothing could bleaken those colors. This felt like just yesterday. It was just yesterday.They flowed beautifully through her characteristics. Her smile, her laugh, the way she spoke all expressed joy. She did not know it was joy. She knew it as life. She never thought it could change. She did not see it while it was there, but she surely missed it now that it was gone. She wanted to go back.

After her brief daze, she loses the confidence to move on. She had felt betrayed, left alone, with no one. She could no longer stand. She sat against the wall and stared into the dark hallway ahead. She was prepared to give up and give herself to the darkness she has awaiting. But then she begins to rethink and considers what has gotten her this far. She has some motivation not to break, but will it be enough? She questions her stability to continue walking, let alone stand. She needs help, but there is no one there to offer it to her. If there was, she would choose not to ask, she has to do this herself. She felt abandoned in blue. Who was she standing for? 

Then it shined bright. She ignored it as another dream, but it came to her. She felt lifted. The anchor had been dropped and she was able to stand. A new color began to smoothly run through her. She was able to do more than stand, she could walk. She began walking and she continued to walk down the now partially lit hallway with her new color. The space started to get larger and she was able to run. She sprinted through the open space feeling forward movement. She was no longer going in circles, she was making progress. She started to sprint to her finish line. She had felt as though she was in a never ending race against herself. She kept running, and she never looked back. She never wanted to go back to that place. 

At last she saw her new way out on the path to not just joy, but bliss, and her color had never left her side. She felt the ribbon break as she reached the end she had never seen in the beginning. She had broken away from her darkness.

Principle with an "le"

What is a good principle to keep? One deeper than simple morals. One that you would want to share with your kids and grand kids. One of mine would have to be you can't be rewarded for work you didn't do. It doesn't feel good recieving credit for work you didn't complete to the best of your ability or just wasn't yours at all. I find this the reason many group projects are flawed. Another one I think is a good one to keep is never lower yourself to the level of someone else, and this is a big one to me because it is the one that comes up the most in my life. My mom always taught me that no matter how someone is treating you, you should never stoop to conquer. So essentially I have to try and stay calm and sensible while people attempt to break me down. In closing I guess the best principle to keep is to stay strong. Stay strong through any and everything life could ever throw at you. 

I'm Grateful

Okay so to all of you all reading this I'm grateful for each and every one of you. And trust me I don't say this to be cheesy or unrealistic. But come on, I feel like we all have had those moments in class where we were happy that someone spoke up, or helped you out. As a class I'm sure by the end of the year we will grow to become a family. This is like the shortest blog I'm probably gonna write. But, I'm happy to have you all in my class and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday weekend. 

I Celebrate Myself

In today's society, one would say that there isn't enough self appreciation. Everyone is so focused on fitting in and conforming to society that they lose themselfs in the process. Or they are too afraid to conform that they become jealous of the people within it. I don't think that people should be so attached to fitting in. In the words of Emerson, "Envy is ignorance. Imitation is suicide." Why would we all want to be the same? You only lose your individuality. I love myself, and for those who don't, I really can care less. 

For example, I came from am elementary school where we had to wear uniform everyday. Coming to Whitney Young 7th grade was the happiest day of my life. I got to wear whatever I wanted the first day. It made me feel different. I was so tired if the navy blue and white. 

I'm not saying there should be no firm of unity. However I think within that unity there should be you being you, and no one else. Celebrate yourself. 

"To be great is to be misunderstood" - Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Poe

In my opinion Poe's writing comes across as very depressing however meaning something larger. I have read The Raven in elementary school and never dissected it as much as I did in this class. I just saw it as a "oh my gosh why must we read this depressing poem." But I looked a little into the biography of Poe. Why he seemed to be so sad. As a reader, in the word of my English I teacher Dr. Bloland, when the dragon got into my head, it was sad, depressed, hopeless. All you saw was pure agony and defeat. His mother died soon after his father abandoned them, and although a family took him in, he was never format adopted. 

When reading something like that, growing up with both parents in my life I couldn't have been more grateful. He used poetry as a way of life. To disay his emotions. When I used to write, and I didn't have a specific topic, I always chose my mood. How I was feeling.

I do not think that because of the somber mood Poe's writing gives off it would make his writing bad. I think it makes his writing better. You write better when you're writing truly you.