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I’m dying and this time a doctor told me so . I see life a lot differently now. I don’t care for much arguing and if I disagree with the way others are acting and living their lives, I find it hard to comment. It could be at times be that I don’t care. Or is it possible that I feel that it may be best to live for the moment.

I feel like I am on trial. Its as if I witnessed a murder and I needed to come clean or they were going to kill me for it. I was the only witness. I was also the victim. I feel like I am locked in this dream, almost daily when the chest pain or migraines begin. I feel like the only way out is to surrender to my illness. My freedom is being ripped from under me. My dreams that I finally started to complete were stolen. It’s only a matter of time before I am crippled and bedridden.

The worries happen and my cup falls to the floor and breaks. I am past the brink of self destruction these days. I am angry with God even these days. I am sitting now sweating bullets. My stomach is sure to explode. There begins the rocking. I could kill with the cut of my eyes. I am telling myself constantly to calm down.

Everything will be okay. Then reality sits in and I realize that its just the opposite. This is real. A real life tragedy.

The Verdict is in. The jury takes their seats. I stand to face my judge and jury and offer a plea of mercy. “If I could simply retain my sanity in light of your findings. I would like to through my mercy unto the court. For with all that has taken place. I am lost. I am living a nightmare and I can’t seem to get out. The nights and days run together. I am weak and without water. I am falling prey to the ways of this world.

Inching slowly, bending and swaying before passing out on the courts floor, I beg for a new cup and a fresh glass of water. For my soul is thirsty. If I am to be whole again I must be replenished. No matter what I am faced with, there must a light at the end of this tunnel.

Fill my cup so that I may quench this thirst, so that I can at least stand and fight, for as long as the fight is in me.

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Joy stepped into her bathroom and starred into the dark. Her first thought was to call on God. She wanted him to show himself and explain his actions. She couldn't she how they were justified. She walked slowly to the tubs edge and looked into the deep oval ceramic surface and sat on its edge.
The room seemed to expand as if the walls were no longer there. All she could see was a bright light, that appeared from just beyond the tub. A calming glow that moved her to sway softly, as the luminosity calmed her soul. Tuning into her consciousness she turned on the water to the tub. The golden handles with pearl tips seemed to reflect small sparkles of gold onto the water, as it filled the bathtub. The room was well lit by the golden highlights. Joy watched the waters flow as if hypnotized by the clear crystals falling from its spout.
As the water surfaced towards the tubs edge, she could visibly see the steam hovering over its top. She could feel the soft warmth of the clouded steam, and in it she calmed her weeping heart. She felt a great sense of peace.
Though the chill of the bathroom flowed from her feet against the tile floor, she was warmed by the presence of something or someone. Curious with the urge to feel the closeness of her husbands spirit, she called out to him. Joy prayed that her lack paranormal belief would not hinder her possibility of experience. She quieted her self and looked into the empty space filled with light and steam from her hot bath. In it he stood quietly. She was fearful at first, at this presumed presence of someone that had passed on. She nearly fell from the tub. She would have easily hit her head and knocked unconscious.
Joy held on to her chest frightfully aware of her close walk with death and inhaled slowly. Grabbing on the flesh of her chest she grabbed both the garment of her oversized shirt, and the thin tissue between her breast purposely to test her conscious awareness. Pain was definite and her eyes were focused even in the dark of the night. Slowly releasing her shirt, she placed her hands toward the illuminating light in an attempt to touch just the hem of his garment. Unable to feel the cloth she retreated and shook her head solemnly, then violently, as she realized her disbelief caused her to loose touch.
Just in that moment the peace that had culminated her mind, body, and spirit dissipated. She was tired and worn. Her back slumped over and depression quickly settled. Moving from the tubs edge she turned her back towards the door and the light was gone. She slowly crumbled to the floor and fell into a tantrum of unexplained volatile convulsions, as she cried for mercy and understanding.
“Dear God, Why has Thou Forsaken me. Why must I stay to die alone in the hellish ways of this world.? What am I do to do with this life, now that all that I have loved and cherished has perished?”
“You live..”
Joy peered from between the small cracks in her hands. Slowly she uncovered her face. She could have sworn to have heard Jakes voice, but nothing was there.
“Hello!” she called out. Making sure that her mind was in fact playing tricks on her. She was even fearful that the voice would again answer her. She too thought that she may be loosing her sanity. Things that were happening were not of this world. She couldn't explain her thoughts or actions. Her mind raced and the outbreaks of sudden amnesia puzzled not only her, but her family.
“I'm here,” the voice interrupted.
Joys this time she was afraid to speak aloud. “What do you want?” she asked as if she wanted to know the answer.
“I want you to live,” was his only response.
Joys eyes widened with surprise but the voices request only seemed to add fuel to the fire burning within Joys chest. She was angry. She wanted an explanation.
“What for?” she screamed.
“What for…?” Again she called at the empty space just beyond her tub and demand an answer. “How dare you leave?” she yelled begging for his

There were this saying a few of the girls would chant from time to time in my girls program. Some of them would be arguing about God knows what, and one of the comebacks to the others character belittling was, “I get it how I live.” She would be hopping up and down rolling her head , all while rolling her hair into a neat bun. Only to have it pulled out by the roots.

I was so puzzled at the statement that during one of our sessions, I decided to gain some insight on the matter. The girls were all excited to share their stories about the nature in which this particular phrase rang true individually.

However, once I started to hear the stories behind the truth of this so called badge of honor, I refused to listen to anymore of the bad girl chronicles. I needed desperately to set the record straight.

A way of life is proclaimed to be the definition of the phrase, “I Get it How I live.” So what do we do, to obtain these things? When I invited the boys to join our discussion, the girls were amazed at the concepts the young men had about the statement. The boy’s brought light to the situation. While the ladies prized their understanding of the slang term. The boys demeaning views were not only disrespectful but graphic in nature, which opened the eyes of many.

As we all know in this society we are not all created equal. No matter the change in season or turn of the century women and men are from two different worlds and praised for different things. The boys were rowdy and pleased to announce their gang affiliations, and poor respect for women. They used the term Bitch and Hoe loosely and referred to the behaviors of girls unacceptable; but condoned such acts of misconduct when there were the recipients thereof.

Again stating that, “I Get it How I live.” The girls sadly agreed, but couldn’t knock the next person for what they participated in for the simple fact that to each his or her own. Another statement that suggests freedom of choice, but clearly leaves room for ridicule.

After our long chat which included the gentlemen, I asked them to leave and we had a girl session to clarify the matter. The girls were really eager to lay into the boys for their rudeness, but didn’t give any further clarification to the phrase at hand. Some of the girls said that it’s just some stupid phrase they heard a rap artist say so like many trends others followed.

Again an old saying comes to mind, “If so and so jumped off of a bridge, would you?” Of course not is always the answer, yet and still we choose to follow the crowd. Some of the most ridiculous notions are made public and because someone with a little cash said it, we jump in the boat.

I will be one to tell you that I am quick to abandon ship, if the boat even looks like it may have a crack in it. You should always come prepared with your own life raft.

So, as the discussion progressed, I decided to break down the statement and perhaps change the focal point of its meaning. We were going to continue to, “Get it how we lived!” Though we were going to positively reinforce the nature of what we were getting.

We would still get money, but by way of jobs and education. We would also seek popularity, but by way of healthy character building, and social clubs that benefit affirmative outcomes.

I had to put a stop to the “Get it how I live,” mess. They were simply running around like chickens with their heads cut off, babbling such madness. As the Butler family says, “Not all money is good money, f

I can still feel the snap of my arm being jerked outward in my attempt to flee his wrath. Id raise my right arm to shield myself from the blow. Catching my arm in mid air he ensured me that everything was ok. He wasn't angry.


I came from under a my ball of defense and relaxed my strained muscles only to catch the full blow of his furry. My head jerked back and hit the stone fireplace. The shock of the beating numbed the pain. It wasn't until he said he was sorry that my bones began to ache.
During the hours we had company in my dorm apartment he would make a point to show how obedient I was.

To make a point of ownership he would dare others to look at me. If he caught site of such betrayal and possible lust after what he proclaimed to own. He would beat the man senseless, then pull a knife to my throat. The same question was always asked. “Do you think I should kill him?” I would suggest that he be exiled from the group, a small act of courage to protect him from this demons wrath. God knows my time was near. I too, had plans of making an escape.


He didn't take so kindly of my suggestion. He figured I was looking to save my undercover lover. He gave him a small window to either jump from or be thrown out of. He jumped. I lived on the second floor, high enough to break a few bones if someone was literally trying to kill you. To jump was his best bet.

Unfortunately. my hour of terror had just begun. He continued his speech to his fellow constituents that cringed with fear but dare not shut their eyes to visual presentations. As their eyes watered afraid to blink the tears threatened to cause attention to possible weakness. As he trailed the knife from under my eye down the outline of my face the men took the chance to wipe their faces and adjust their game faces.

I was stiff as a board and late answering his repeated question. "Are you afraid of me?" I said no. The answer he so loved to hear. If I were scared I wouldn't give him the satisfaction in knowing. I fought back tears as he forced the point of the knife into my cheek.

"Good!" He replied. Because to kill you would then be justified.

I never understood how killing someone would unless in self defense, my plan, but I believe that his meaning to justification was in reference to his conscience.

My eyes lowered and shifted view to his followers. For the life of me I couldn't understand why none of them had taken the opportunity to win back their freedom. Id given plenty of time and opportunity. Motive floated in the air like a cloud of smoke from an un contained fire. Desire caused sweat to bead upon their brows and wet their palms.

“Cowards I screamed,” from my delirious mind. My arms and legs were kicking and flinging as hard and fast as they could in my conscience. I burned them with my stares. Some looked away. Others dare not show signs of emotion or disagreement to his performance, for fear they too would be asked to leave. Departure without being formally excused as a group could be fatal. If I had the chance I pull the gun from the hip of one of these sensitive assholes and kill him myself.

Boys claiming to be men holstering guns they are afraid to use, but jump up and down in an attempt to prove themselves to yet another man. A man with whom is just as afraid as they are. I was under his wrath, under lock and key.

Joy felt incredibly dizzy just moments after taking the pills Dr. Zimmerman had given her. She decided to cancel dinner with her in laws. She’d just rather curl up in bed and watch the, “House,” marathon.
Dr. House was just one of her television boyfriends. His nonchalant attitude and 5 0’clock shadow, were his two most sexiest traits. Joy had always had a tender spot for bad guys. She was infatuated with thugs and rogues. They were a true challenge. She vowed to make those that fell prey to her trap, a gentleman yet.
Jake however, stepped to the challenge. He was cocky and ill mannered. Yet soft and sensitive in his own way. His charm and bad boy sense of sensibility confused Joy. She’d met her match. Love came easy. She finally felt as if she could let her guard down.
Joy dazed and out of touch with reality stumbled into the bathroom. She turned the stainless steel knobs on her sink, until the water was an even flow. The cold water was sure to wake her from her confused state, she thought. Splashing her face with the cool fluid she arose from under a waterfall of relief and peered into her vanity mirror. The lights were gold, which provided a lovely glow to accentuate her natural beauty. Joy tried to focus her eyes as the water dripped from her eyelashes. Blinking hard and wiping her eyes gently she looked into the mirrors reflection.
Her face appeared to be distorted, like an abstract painting. Her face was split into two parts both filled with unpleasant emotion. Wiping the mirror in an attempt to clear her vision, she found no change in her reflection.
Joy became frantic as she started rubbing her face. She memorized the height of her cheekbone, the shape of her eyes, and the fullness of her lips. Peering back into the mirror, her reflection had changed. The mirror reflected her true consonance. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Spiraling curls escaped from her sloppy bun, tickling her eyes and the nap of her neck. Joy shook her head as she gripped the sink, trying desperately to hold herself up. She was suddenly filled with exhaustion. She dried her face gently with her hand towel and retreated from the bathroom. She made sure to turn out the lights behind her.
“Wow the doctor was right. These are some strong meds, I better lay down.”
As Joy threw back the covers to her king size bed, she jumped into the fluff of her feathery pillows, her door bell rang. “Oh go away.” Joy begged with a whining tone, hoping that if she were quiet her uninvited guest would go away. Again the door bell rang, three quick alarming chimes. Joy kicked wildly at her covers and flung her robe closed. She jumped out of bed and stomped down the hall towards the living room. It was 10 after 9.
“Alright, Alright, hold your damn horses.”
“It’s me Charles, open up.”
“Charles?” Joy whispered to herself. Oh my God, it must be something wrong with Sam. Joy ran and unlocked her well bolted door.
“Charles is everything alright?’
“Yes, Yes. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Charles grabbed Joy by her shoulders and stepped inside the door. Then what’s wrong?” Joy’s forehead wrinkled as she closed and locked the door, behind them.
Charles sat down on the couch, and put his head in his hands. “I just…I was just working late….just over the bridge…a client Jake and I were working with on a special project. The dude called to inform Jake that, he had been awarded the grant,” Charles bit his lip and shock his head. “Hum, funny thing. I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited, I grabbed for my cell and dialed his number. It had gone straight to voice mail before I had realized Jake was gone.” Charles began to sob like a baby. He fell back into the cushions of Joy’s couch to take refuge. Joy was both stunned and filled with a strong desire to console him. Her loneliness overwhelmed her.
“I didn’t even know he was working on a grant.” Joy rubbed her sweat beading hands on the front of her robe. S