different forms

I don't even know where to start.

I got published in our schools literary journal. I was 1 of 7 short stories in it. I was on the short story staff my freshman year and we had like 40 entries, so there were probably about the same this year. So I was pretty proud of my work.

I had a strange feeling though after I read it in the book. It was a very personal story. And I gave the main character my name. So now there will be who knows how many people I don't know who will read it. And that's a scary thought. Now, I realize that is a silly thought for me to write on a public blog that the whole world can technically read. But here I can hide behind the fact that unless you personally know me, you don't really know me by reading this. My story on the other hand, shows a lot more than I think I would ever post on here. So that is scary.

But that is what I wanted, right? right.

My friend gave me a few ideas on how I could turn it into the book I dream of at night. It will happen one day. It will.

But, all that aside, the true reason of this post comes from the fact that I emailed my old English teacher saying I was published and I wanted to send her one. She responded quickly saying what a blessing it was to hear from me since she had been thinking of me lately. (We have kind of kept in touch since I graduated). Then she told me that her husband is very sick and has a webpage about him.

And so I read it. And I cried. No one should have to go through the struggles they are going through. She is such a strong person. And he has pushed every time frame they have given him. People don't just survive what he has unless they love their family so deeply, and have endless support and love from them. Please pray for their family. Cancer is an evil disease.

While I was reading the journal, I picked Zoey up with tears running down my face. She was upset because she wanted something or other and looked at me. She put her hand to my face and put her head on my shoulder. Comforting me. What a little angel I have. I think this was the first thing I have witnessed her understanding sadness and compassion. I love her.

Love: it comes in different form.