I might as well walk to the edge now, walk to the edge and look out on the open waters that has become our nearing future. The waves are swelling, the swells at large, and I'm just holding my breath until they topple. They'll fold and un-fold, pushing out all our efforts of the last... how long has it been now? For now, I walk steadily on the shore of it-- the eve of it-- picking up shells for momentos; someday I'll put them in a jar and hang my memories-- my childhood-- on display. Or I'll simply push the box away, high on a shelf; untouched. The wave, it's coming near. It will echo the words that I've written in 12 voices. Just look at that wave swell...

I was riding down a pleasant road where familiarity met promise, driving past the accidents knowing "that won't happen to us" I ridiculed the "low-lifes"-- I won't live life like them-- I'm climbing higher, fighting fire, I'll become much more than them. And then something darted across my path; I hit the breaks and screeched. My heart pounded, panic swelling in my eyes; Please, faith, fate, let this pass us by. Wave the red flag, I'm not ready, stop this while ye may. Wave the read flag, I'm not ready, don't end my dreams today.

12:16 the night before a final and I can't go to sleep. I had a great day today, but I can't let Him know that. I acted like a child, like a real woman, like a flirt, like a bitch, like a drunk, like a poet, but I can't let anyone know that. I chased pigeons because it felt like running away. I shook hands because it felt like senior year. I laughed, and joked, and tossed around empty insults because, secretly, we're friends. I felt comfortable all day because this is the way I'v developed; to be lazy in sweatshirts, quick in sneakers, at ease with the boys. Sometimes I'm laughing so much, I can't slow myself down to speak properly. Because I worked (out) yesterday, I deserved dessert tonight. One of these days I'll mean it when I say I'm putting my foot down (gee, doesn't THAT sound familiar). I was called white and wasn't offended; Am I a white-bread girl in denial? We high-fived over cleaning ladies. I celebrated $113 returned to me for books. I wondered if the thousands of dollars spent on tuition was worth it. I looked at another college. It's so typical of me to change my mind over and over again...I know the answer is right in front of me--obvious--but as for now, I'm blind to. I'm trapped here because of Him; willingly, you understand. Is it pathetic? Romantic? Tragic? I don't know. Where else would I be? I'm everywhere I never dreamed of being and no where close to where I dreamed of getting. Did I turn the wrong corner (I have the tendency to get lost), or did the map change to fit my direction?

Well, happy December! I've been spending a lot of time with family lately. Been going home a lot--every weekend, so it seems--and, although I haven't just realized it, I'm just overwhelmed by the luck I have when it comes to family. I mean, my family is all around fantastic, Kris' family is all around fantastic, both our families get along--they like me, my family likes him--(scratch the like, it's all about the love!). I have so many friends that feel they have to hide things from their parents and sneak around and, fortunately, I've never had to do that. My parents have always been understanding and open with me about everything. Any my family is so unique, even just my immediate family--everyone is so different from the next. I feel awful ending this so vaguely, but I was just drowned by a wave of tiredness...

My father called me again last night. I was sitting at the computer, working on my English paper when the phone rings and you can't imagine my surprise when I looked at the caller ID and saw it was my dad. At first I got worried that something had happened--ridiculous, isn't that? To assume a tragedy when your father calls? Well, there was no emergency. Mom was out for the night and so dad was alone, making himself a big juicy burger and thought of me. So we made yummy noises over the phone and talked about food, dad's specialties and that we ought to have hot pastrami sandwhiches this weekend. Then we talked about the house, its progress, when it might be done (early January, he says), when our house will be put on the market (after Christmas), and then I told him how Kris and I wanted to get a place next year so we talked about that, too. It was so nice, talking to my daddy. When I lived at home sometimes he would come into my room when I was sitting around and would just flop onto my bed, pet the dog and casually strike up a conversation with me, even if it was about nothing and didn't last very long. My father is truly the most mysterious person I know. I've been trying to figure him out for years and years. It's easy to think you've got him pegged, but then he does something or says something that makes you re-evaluate your assumptions.

I've been dealing with some strange changes here, physological and physical, on every realm of my personality. For the most mundane of change, a look at my eating; a sudden turn-off of greasy, fattening, and particuarly sugary foods and a new found favoritism for fruits and vegetables, celery topping the charts. On the surface, a glance at my face; marked by horrendous pimples, those horrid mountains of development that do nothing but stand in the way of confidence. On the inside, much has changed. I question, I wonder, I second-guess; but why? Because of a ridiculous nightmare? Because of a subtle hint taken twice? What if I'm reading the signs wrong? And while I know I'm happy, I can't help but to also feel angry that there is a force larger than me standing in the way of my real happiness; a blockade of miles to seperate us and cut-off communications, except through a telephone of static where we can hear perfectly but understand nothing. I'm sorry that my voice doesn't travel well. It's not used to be without my mouth, my cheeks, my eyes... I have no decisions to make, and yet I feel clustered by crossroads. It may just be all the excess running through my body; medicine for this, medicine for that, lotions all over the body...it's enough to make me sick and, in fact, is. Enjoying myself has become much easier when all I think about is laughing. But when the tickling ends, I am drawn back to the daunting tasks of work and the pressures univeristy places upon you; get invovled, do work, intern, etc., etc. I won't dare compare any of it to high school (in truth, this is easier). God do I miss being a little girl, riding in the passenger seat of my mom's Mustang at 6am to go to the 10K charity events in Tempe where I would walk around to all the booths with my little goody bags collecting all sorts of junk that would soon enough be thrown away. I miss my pigtails and bows and cute frilly socks, along with the days when being a little chubby was considered healthy and adorable. And while this has no real congruence to the beginning of this entry, it still serves to sooth my mind as thoughts condense and slow to a stop. Maybe, for just tonight, I may sleep soundly.

According to my mother, I'm rich. And I suppose that's what my bank account says with the condition of 19 year old college kid. But I can't help but feeling poor. I don't know exactly where all the money came from; for some I work, for some I earned, and some I'm sure got there by accident. I consider it all a gift. And it is with heavy guilt that I spend any of it, except of course on the specific items of its purpose; tuition, room and board, books, groceries. Besides the necesseties, I feel more obligation to hang on to it all, not yet aware of the full comfort of being "financially stable". I want to be exceedingly wealthy one day so that I won't feel guilty for anything and I can lend out extra bedrooms to people in need and have huge feasts during the holidays and big swim parties during the summer and I shall travel all the world. I wish to see and do so much, I think my own dreams overwhelm me. Did all the grown-ups around me once have giant dreams, too? I wonder. Things are unexplainably rough right now. I think that's the way with freshmen year. Some days you feel right on top of things in the hands of education. Other days you feel like the carpet is being pulled out from under you and you can hardly get a hold of anything to stay on your feet. Many people fall. But will they get back up, that is the question. Some days I swear I'm going to change the world. Other days I discover the world is changing me. What to do? About college, about love, about everything? I'm in a tricky spot--not entirely difficult, but no where easy either--am I doing all the right things? For everyone? I hope so.

Outside, through paper-thin walls I heat the train whistle, hear it rumble away as it calls and this little city perhaps mildly hears it, otherwise ignores it, but not me. I smiled silently as it tooted a message across blacktops and rooftops, sat still as it chugged and cycled away. Pleased was I to hear the whistle blew, knowing somewhere off, you heard one too. Besides the minor pull-over, the day--the weekend--cruised smoothly to a near top ten. And these visions keeping hanging around flickering on the silver screen of memory like a black and white film without sound; make this a romantic. Oh this is an ornamental fate; I should have known that the crash of a shimmering blue was the firework boom of a "sneeze": I love you. Forever and ever, for eternity, I do.

Your element is Fire: Strong, hot tempered,powerful, and passionate. Well now lets see,being fire you are quite strong and powerful,people look up to you greatly and often seekyour protection. You have the ability to gainmany friends and you are always one people cancount on to do what you say you will do. Youare extremely loyal be it friends or familyyou'll stick up for them and you are neverwilling to put them in a position that couldhurt them. You know what roll you play in life,leader, and you intend to let people know it.Not everyone is capable of leadership but youcertainly have the willpower and flare to doit. You have quite a temper if it shows itself,one that can often lead you into trouble. Onceyour mind is made up there is no changing itbut no one said that was a bad thing. .:-|What is your true element?|-:. -With Anime Pictures and detailed answers- brought to you by Quizilla

The Series Featuring the viewpoints of Talbot, Teague, Larkin, and Fallen with a look at the planets Emoh, Ashnah, Telsim, and Earth, the Water Planet. Telsim is almost communist, Emoh is almost robotic, but you always have your rebels…do they all go to Ashnah? How did people end up where? Notes for ideas: Talbot is in Ashnah where Farious Farcast is the only one opposed to Rigolo’s Revolution. Ashnah and Emoh have been in political battles for years. Emoh’s trophy is a small portion of Ashnah kept under glass and tight security in Emoh as researchers attempt to clone the last living planet. The people of Emoh don’t know about the stolen portion of Ashnah, but are led to believe that Ashnah is a diseased planet and the people on it are all infected. This giant lie is created to keep the people of Emoh ignorant of the government’s plans and to avoid protest for war against Ashnah. The people of Emoh also don’t realize that their life cannot continue to sustain as it is. Should Emoh and Telsim reverse names? Could Emoh be old earth? The half-land? The deal between President of Emoh and Rigolo: Rigolo is the real villain. President thinks he is in control, but he has no control at any point in the story—demonstrated even by small points: asks Rigolo to sit, Rigolo continues to stand. “Minorities will always survive because we have sustained our way of life around them by the use of them.” Possible that Teage and Talbot fall in love and discover they are brother and sister? Parents could have been cause of great divide between the planets, or they could have been the freedom fighters. Talbot became a freewalker like her mother? Freewalker: A fighter having no allegiance to a single group; employed out of disparity and loyal to employer only until a battle or war is won. They fight to fight, not for the cause, and are extremely gifted fighters. For these reasons, they are not highly thought. The Family Ties: Going back generations Larivant and Decanten have twins, Teague and Talbot. Born enemies and secret lovers, Larivant became pregnant before Decanten could fulfill his promise of peace. Possible to link all this to Sin Is A Myth. In which case, the family tree would be expanded, every-other generation had siblings that fell in love: Pendithor & Framos & Vilencia Mendithas & Quency Decanten & Larivant Teague & Talbot *refresh on Pendithor’s history. There may be another link with the generations in relation to a universal balance. Do the siblings falling in love re-create the balance or disrupt it? What is the role of Fate? OR is Sin Is A Myth too heavy to tie into the younger generation sci-fi? Who is my audience? OKAY, now what about Fallen and Larkin? Character Sketches Talbot: Obviously coming from a rough up-bringing, perhaps with very little parenting or supervision, it is possible that she was orphaned at a very young age and managed to fend for herself and learned from strangers how to hunt, fight, and the rest of it. She is very strong, but it is a false shield she puts up because she cannot let it down. Perhaps her deepest desire to have someone else look after her, rather than fighting for herself all the time. She became a Freewalker at a young age and quickly gained acknowledgement (different from respect) from leaders and villagers for being a savage fighter with an inconceivable luck for being unhurt. Having no last name as an orphan, rumors quickly named her Talbot Stone because of her strength. All heroes must have one great adventure story to make them famous… Talbot took place in a historic battle, what was it? What happened? Why was it so important? What was the aftermath? Teague: He is a very naïve and optimistic individual who didn’t quite get the chance to grow-up. He is extremely fast and physically strong, even though he has a smaller build; these traits are used greatly to his advantage. Larkin: Also orphaned very young, Larkin insists he never had parents but simply appeared one day, walking and talking; this is, of course, a fabrication, for Larkin isn’t stupid and knows the impossibility of such a thing. But his major character downfall is his inability to forgive; he holds a grudge very tightly. His hatred is in being deceived, which is a hypocrisy against his character since he consistently lies and makes things up. However, it may be argued that his lies are harmless (and sometimes helpful) and the jut of each joke is an attempt to keep a positive viewpoint on his sad life. Fallen: A product of Telsim, is the only one who knew his parents. He lived for seven years in the cookie-cutter and communist life of Telsim before getting the chance to run away. Having experienced Telsim first hand, Fallen is the most objective towards society’s forceful push of a concept similar to the New Right that would extensively eliminate individualism. The political promise to spread “equality and fairness to all” was perceived correctly by Fallen as a disguised proposal to keep everyone the same. The only one in the group with even a small education, Fallen’s main contribution is to read take care of their “finances” (although Larkin prefers devising plots to steal). This is exhausting!!!!

My family has not been blessed with as much goodness as there ought to be. Opportunities for happiness have pounded at our doors, but at the same time the back door is opened without invitation to disaster and a cold wind seems to be constantly sweeping through our rooftops. At the most ceremonious and sacred of events--funerals and weddings--where families should be coming together and holding closer than ever, my family smiles awkwardly in reluctant photographs and smile through gritted teeth upon greeting. Behind closed doors, the storm really takes affect. I suppose its mainly the women right now. My mother, her mother-in-law, her sister, her daughter, my sister. I'm the only who seems to be able to balance on the border line of everyone's warzone. The problem is, I'm beginning to play monkey in the middle for too long. I'm too loyal to my family ties to run away from anything--even if it's just for a couple of hours--so I sit here quietly and endure it all; I turn up the volume of the movie on TV and continue to load the dishwasher peacefully as WWIV blows through the downstairs. The sad thing is, the shouting doesn't bother me so much. The shouting doesn't concern me or frighten me that much because they're shouting; because people say things they don't always mean when they shout; because the heat of their emotions are talking, rather than their common sense and heart. It's when they're just talking, just sitting together and talking, when I get concerned. When a back turns and someone throws a dart or when they give each other the stare-down. I had hoped that by now everything between every one would have resolved its self. I thought something so dramatic as a family death might enlighten people. I had hoped that, nearing the wedding, hearts would become warmer. But I guess everyone has just carved their own path for too long. And if I've been brainwashed, if I've been subjective or partial to one side, I confess it now that this might be so but that I am far than enlightened now; that I see all sides and painfully listen to the ignorance bounce off every corner, the irony tangle in its self. She says this because she's felt that and this one is like this because of her and that one is like that because of this and oh, it's just disgusting. But no one will sit down and talk about it. Because everyone is convinced that no one understands. So we have the martyr, the grouch, and the hottsy-tottsy bitch. And then there's me.

There used to be a time when I was found alone. Around the clock no one called, the lights were low, and I was all alone. And here I sat and sang a love song that was meant for no one real. And here I sat and pleaded with time for something big that I could feel. And here I sat, content as night, for hours to be here as one. But for all those hours I spent with me, lately I'm finding none. I'm tied between relationships, the bons of love and care. And time is dispersed between the two, an hour here, several there. And where I went I'm not quite certain; tucked away behind a curtain. For who I am is attached to her, and moreso clung to him. Those times I spent so late at night, wittling away the night, well they've gone past and are no more, I'm wrapped up now and held on to tight. My foreign friends that cease to be, well I think they're some-what missing me. It's been ages since I've heard them speak and their lives are frozen without me. Which is, I guess, a bit okay since mine keeps moving on;perhaps more now than it ever was, now that those times are gone. I look at her and see her life in the smalles little gleam. And I take her hand and keep her close, for I'm the balance beam. And to my right is Mr. Right, holding onto me. Darkly I begin to wonder, minus me, where would they be? And without them, where would I stand?--I wouldn't. For here I'd sit and and plead with time for something big that I could feel. And here I'd sit, content as night, for hours to be here as one. But for all the hours I'd spent with me, I'd find that I'm poor company.

I took a seat on the moon and cuddled with the sun. I put my arms around him gently but he burnt me. I knew he didn't mean to, so I kissed him and burnt my mouth as well. I turned into a bubble then and shunned him away, shunned them all away. I used to love walking with the stars but they kept falling and I don't like falling so we've stopped walking. In my bubble of solitude I grew bored and picked up a book to read; a nice, pleasant fiction novel. But as I turned the pages I discovered that the character was me, the story was mine, and everyone was marveling at the wonderful tale of the powerless hero and the single gift of...what was it...words? Ah, yes, a single charm for metaphor and simile and they all smiled. When the chapter finished and they had clapped and read their last, they put it back, forgetting they were putting me back and here I am, trapped between two book-ends--sun and moon--burning and freezing on my little shelf where anyone can pick me up and drop me. Well I changed my cover. And my title. Won't you like me now? Won't you take me now? In a private rampage during the editing process of history, I tore out the ugly stuff and replaced it all with nice things and the usual uproar of growth. Nothing serious. It's all better now and I'm all better now so we'll be better now. Please don't put me back. I've been burned and I've been dropped and I've been shoved and pushed aside. I prefer the middle because there's always someone to lean on and someone's hand to hold. I'm healing now, just tanning now, and hoping now. Won't you take me, just the way I am? .A please from yesteryear, you ought to have forgetten this but some things never die, some emotions never settle, some words they never leave. But this means nothing to you now, nothing to me now. Not now.

I dove into history. Went swimming through the waters of the oceans that we rippled and found tears of laughter that we cried and fantasies we lumbered, building damns of midnight dreams and loves that we once slumbered. I hope that you'll forget me I am miles from you now. As if I ever made it to your doorstep... And now we're gone and the stories left abandoned and I know you feel abandoned but I didn't mean to leave you like I did I hope that you'll forgive me 'cause who I am is far from who I've been.

And now it is evident that there are surely invisible walls rising about us, a division of sectors based on family name, but not by title, and padded with a gentle covering of barbwire. I sympthatise with the Napoleon, the lone shepard, the Rosa Parks, if you will, and insistently change the roll of toilet paper so that the paper falls over the roll, not under, because that's the way the Lady taught me. She cried unto me and I cried unto her and I said to her, I said, "We're running away to Paris." Next year, she informed me, she was going. The rest of us chatter of the dismal future lurking nearby, a 20 minute drive away. How miserable it's going to be. Secretly I wonder if they see only the distance in miles, or if they sense it at all this moment? I looked for my puppy, but he merely wagged his tail when I returned and then trotted away. I guess what he's reciproating to me now are all the lousy hello's I often gave him; I'm busy! Poor excuse. Interesting, the people I manage to make room--time--for. Well, I wanted to kiss him goodnight none the less and offer the softest spot on my bed, but he has a new pal now and I suppose her smell is more comforting than mine. I'd buy a goldfish but they bubble when you ask to cuddle. So tension speaks a lot these days and when she is away on business, wit and cold-hard insult are always around. It's too bad none of us have any idea what any other person does with their time. If we all understood that everyone is always busy, we would never get defensive. In a waste of thought, I dwelled on a bad moment in high school history. And then that Lady came in and shined her golden torch on everything wonderful and amazing in my life and just like that, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world again. It's been a great senior year for the both of us. I only wish I could take her to prom. As for the rest of them, I don't think we're related any more. Perhaps my last name ought to change.

I don't think I was too upset when she began to cry. I felt a little pulled down, like all of a sudden everything was a burden and fake, but at that moment I didn't think about me, I thought about her. I took her by the hand and whispered to her "He's standing right beside you" and gave her hand a little squeeze and so we smiled on the count of three. I don't think he was too upset not to find his name beneath a public thank you--he never did seem to care too much about that sort of thing and we aren't the pair that verablize or share much--just those few, precius and secret moments that no one else is around to really witness. He knows I love him. But she doesn't understand that. The absense of his name or mention was upsetting and disrespectful; she doesn't understand. And how could she? I don't expect to her, especially when I myself don't quite understand the difference between father and mentor. (Is that really what it is?) I don't need to bother detailing the night--I'll forget what isn't significant enough to remember and I'll remember what I might want to forget, but the powerful pauses in time will stay with me forever. I'll remember dancing with him, discussing Mexican opera; I'll remember her hugging me at the end of the night with a hug powerful enough to speak for her; I might remember walking, and the photos, and the dancing; I know I'll remember hugging him goodbye and recieving the squeeze on my arm with the words I could only respond to with a dumb smile. Through the years you will come into contact with or be related to people who will be in your life, and people who will be a PART of yor life. And the poeple who apart of your life are the ones you always worry about, can't wait to talk to or see, the ones you hope are watching, the ones who you care about so much and you don't always know why. They are the ones that you take with you every where you go and nearly everything you do, you do for them.

I'm convinced that some people are just born beautiful. God must have known that there would be something trying and bad in their lives and so, to make up for it, he made them beautiful. I can't help but to look around a room and think about certain qualities of a particular individual that make them so appealing to the eye. And, of course the next thought to follow is, what do I have? Why can't I be like that? I've spent hours before mirrors, covering up and examining, adjusting and trying to fix, and, well, nothing seems to help at all. I've stopped looking in mirrors. I don't like what I see anymore and photographs are worse. It feels like everyone around me is just becoming more and more good looking and I feel like I'm getting worse and worse...or nowhere, as hard as I might try. I can't help being down on myself. I can't stop being hard on myself. I don't feel right, physically and emotionally. I feel like I've been a horrible girlfriend lately and I keep catching bits and pieces of my old self seeping through the surfaces, which makes me realize how much I hate my old self. My dark, quiet, unattractive and unsocial self. I look around me and see so many incredibly talented people, showing off and building on their talents all the time, day after day. And I...I don't know what I'm doing. "English". Yeah, sure, how far have I gotten? Ask me where Sin is. Go on, ask me what progress I've made on that novel. I'll tell you--none. A million ideas and no words to materialize them. A thousand directions and no clear road. A hundred pages to go and no time to write them. No time? Is that really my sorry excuse these days? Why is it the person next to me always gets the A, and I'm stuck with a lousy old B? Why does she always look so damned beautiful, and I always feel so damned miserable? What's so different now than how things were six months ago? Why do I feel so completely in love, and yet so entirely alone? Why is it all of a sudden so hard to smile and so easy to cry? And to sum it all up in a breath, why am I torturing myself like this? Of course I don't expect an answer. I'm used to sending things out without returns. The ironic thing is though, I've now realized that I'm a dependent who thinks she's INdependent. So that's that. Off to study for a quiz I know I'll fail, to do push-ups I know I'll fall from, to do crunches I know I'll cry after, to sleep where I know I'll dream. .Just Your Average Teen.

So time's been jetting by and I've been scrambling to keep up. I really feel like a lousy friend these days. Maybe having a boyfriend contributes a bit, since all my spare time is spent with him, but that's a lousy excuse as to why I never spend time with any of my old friends any more. No. i'm taking a vow right now to make a huge effort to spend more time with my friends. It's not fair to them that I should just ditch them like this. And besides, I really miss them. Granted, my life has been so compact lately that it's been hard even to just hang with Kris, but things are light now so I need to broaden out to my buds again. I'm glad I got that off my chest. .You.

I guess this is the season for critical parents. They must talk about it with each other, otherwise it is a remarakable coincidence that they should share the same opinion in the same way, at the same time (approx.). Nothing's good enough-We're proud of what you've done, but angry for what you haven't. Get involved in all you can, but don't waste your time with that crap. We're glad to see you working so hard, but what are you doing with all that time? You're so busy, you're so busy--you need to get a job. Enjoy the end of high school--You're not preparing yourself for college! Bitch, bitch, moan, moan, applause. That's what it feels like. As if we don't put enough pressure on ourselves. How many nights now have I gone to bed with stomach aches, my dreams infested with a brainstorming of thoughts of what I've got to do, how I'm going to do it, so on and so forth. They talk to their friends and say brashly how busy you are. You come home and they complain how you're never around. So you stay home on a Friday night and they ask, "Why aren't you out with your friends?" So you hang out with your friends next day and they say, "With all this spare time you have, you should get a job." It's a vicious cycle, and it sucks, and you can't even breathre or gather your thoughts because you never know when they'll be choking down your throat again, giving you a free ticket for the Guilt Trip. .Carrie.

Every now and again I get feelings. I'm sure a lot of people might get them, but mine are never any good. Actually, I don't know if they are feelings or if my psyche is just being a bastard and messing with my emotions. I can't explain why, but I've been cutting-edge emotional lately. Nearly everything sets me to the verge of tears and I don't know why. I guess it began either right before or during Finding Neverland, but it hasn't left me yet; at least, not fully. My days have become bipolar; one moment I'm fine, laughing, whatever, and the next...I can't seem to raise my eyes to see any bit of blue skies. The smallest things have just toppled me down into instant and short-lived depressions. This morning I had to change my outfit because I felt uncomfortable in what I was wearing and I won't specify why because I don't feel like being critisized. My math teacher, Ms. Samfillipo, comes off as being a cold person, but she's very intuitive. Every time I've ever been upset or mildly down about something, she always picks up on it and asks me if I'm okay. No one else ever does--no one else can ever tell--but she can. I tell her I'm fine, which I'm positive I am, but momentarily I'm consumed by a dark shadow I can't name. Back to that feeling though. I am completely baffled as to why, but I keep thinking that my mother is going to die. It's the most horrible, scary thing I can ever think of and I don't know WHY I keep thinking it, but the thought of it keeps reappearing in my mind! I remind myself over and over, she's fine, she's going to be fine, there's nothing wrong with her, she's not sick or anything, nothing's wrong...but still...it crashes through my head without warning and the thought of it nearly knocks me off my feet. I wish I could stop thinking it. I wish I could get over this horrible spell. I guess all I can really do it wait it out...convince my self that everything is fine...and just wait. .A little girl.