I'm me. What else is there to say? Other than I'm weird, random, and I like playing classical piano? Also, I have this weird thing with rhythm and counting. Everything must be counted, and it must all be to my internal beat!

I love Silly Songs with Larry, my nieces, my nephews, my siblings, my parents, all my friends, and God most of all. I love to listen, so if anyone ever wants to talk, I'll listen, even if it's a small thing. I want to be there for people; no one deserves to be left out in the cold or dark, all alone. I want to be there for people who don't have anyone.

Faith is the thing with feathers-
That perches in the soul-
And sings the tune without the words-
And never stop-at all-

Sweetest- in the Gale- was heard-
And sore must be the storm-
That could abash the little Bird-
That kept so many warm-

I heard it in the chillest land-
and on the stranest Sea-
But never, in Extremity-
It asked a crumb-of Me.

-Emily Dickinson

Everyone has that someone, that someone who makes you feel loved, special, and alive. Those who finally find their someone are blessed greatly; for too many never find that someone, and they perish without ever knowing what a great thing they've missed out on.

THE PEACEMAKER
On soft feet, by none detected
Dealing death, by most rejected
Killed by Claw, since resurrected
Marked by X, two lines connected
Finally they intersected
Two lined met, one unexpected

Everyone has that someone special, that person who looks after you from beyond time, someone who loves you and forever will...

Can you see me? Here I am, standing where I've always been.
I love you,
your guardian angel


Time passes.
Even when it seems impossible.
Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise.
It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does.
Even for me...


Until I might find another,
In this world in which I reside,
My heart lies between the pages
In them, my face I will hide.


Slumber through twilight, sleep through the dawn,
Bright in our memory from first light each morn,
Rest through the winter beneath the soft snow,
And in the springtime, when bright blossoms show.

Warriors brave, who gave all you could give,
Offered your lives so that others would live.
No one can tell what my heart longed to say,
When I had to leave here, and you had to stay.

-Pasque Valerian