Just a Thought.

Its funny how most people find the contrast between compassion and contempt so shocking. Maybe its shocking because its rare. When there's a quarrel between two people, one is rarely mature enough to take the words, and speak the opposite. Its often thought that harmful words are fair punishment. Its often thought that hateful speech will hurt the other. The kinder the reaction, the more painful the blow; simply because you aren't being accused by the ignorance of another, but the ignorance within yourself.
Being broken to be mended.
Love can break a person, but will also transform them.
Hate hardens a person, but what's the use of solidity when you're merely a statue of sand?
Open the eyes of the blind and there will be fear, but beyond will be beauty.
Pry their eyes open with grace, not insults.
Thanks.

Isn't it Ironic?

There once was a man who owned a great, old, elegant watch. He was not particularly rich, nor particularly poor; he was a proud member of the upper-middle class and thus remained their for the majority of his life, with the exception of his college years.
The watch was not one of obvious monetary value, but he admired it all the same. It had been a departing gift from his father who had passed away almost 10 years before his son turned 50 years old. With the tragedy of his father's death looming like a heavy shadow above his life, the man harbored a mysterious attachment to the watch: an attachment only one who has suffered a great loss could even possibly comprehend the meaning behind.
To him, the watch was a symbol of his father's legacy, his character, his beliefs. And the man wore it with pride for almost 10 straight years, only removing it when preparing to take a shower. Someone who knew the man well would know with certainty that he always wore the leather-banded silver-rimmed watch on his right hand, directly above the small freckle on his lower forearm. The position of the watch was most convenient for him, simply because he could raise his arm up and see the time without a strain.
One day, as the deep pain of his father's death began to glaze over and become only a numb memory, and the man could again rejoice in the long life of his dad, the watch stopped working. The tiny hands refused to spin, no matter the amount of effort the man put into fixing it. He took it to many jewelers and watchmakers, but none could guess what went wrong. Reluctantly, the man took the watch off, and set it with great care in the top drawer of his dresser.
Days, months, years passed and the watch soon slipped his mind. Microscopic pieces of dust fell one by one on its once shining surface, transforming it into a tainted old antique. The leather began to grow stale and hardened with the time. The man was nearly 70 years old before he stumbled upon it again.
This time, instead of bittersweet memories of his deceased father overwhelming him with emotion, there was only one thing on his mind: the profit he could make from it.
So much time had passed, that the man could easily make a fair sum of money from it. With a bit of cleaning and polishing, the watch was taken down to a local pawn shop and was quickly bought for more than the man expected. Feeling especially pleased with himself for making such a wise decision, the man promptly took his wife to one of the most expensive restaurants in town for celebration. They drank the most elegant of wines and were merry.
Months later, in the midst of winter, the man and his wife were going Christmas shopping at a local mall. The man had always been admired for his excellent eyesight, and although it had dullened with age, the man could still see fairly well. What he saw in the mall made his heart tighten, his throat dry up, and his teeth clench. On the arm of a tall, handsome young man rested his watch. Jealousy suddenly overwhelmed him. He remembered his dad, he remembered how much the watch meant to him, he remembered the countless days of pride in which the watch could always be found on his arm, he remembered how much he had lost, and thought: "Isn't it ironic how the value in an item is not revealed until it is lost?"

A Memoir

I remember the first time I met you.
It was a warm day, and I had gone on a walk to take a few pictures of the beautiful scenery. A girl rode down the street on her bike, and I stopped to talk. She told me she was headed to your house, so I asked if I could come with.

I remember we sat on your porch and talked for an hour, then you walked me home because it was dark.

I remember when we would walk by the Peppermint place and waste our money on chocolate, then find a random park and eat it.

I remember how we made a list of everything we should do while hanging out, and I wrote it in your back yard with chalk.
I remember how the rain washed it away, so you wrote it down in your phone.
I remember how we didn't even finish it.

I remember that one time we rode our bikes in the pouring rain just to go buy gummy worms because we were both craving them.

I remember how we used to catch random animals, give them bizarre names and take care of them. For some reason they always ran away. Gir the dog, Ferdinand the snake, and I'm pretty sure there were more.

I remember how the only time you ever got mad at me was when you tried to teach me to play the piano and I sucked at it.

I remember how you would always deal with my stupid urges to watch movies made in the 1940's, and watch them with me anyway.

I remember how we always joked we would be in an amazing band together, but never made it.

I remember how we used to find a house with the biggest hills in it's yard and roll down them for hours.

I remember how we would sit in your kitchen on those wonderful ikea chairs and spin for hours when we couldn't think of much else to do.

I remember how you would walk to my house without a jacket in a blizzard, just so we could hang out for 10 minutes.

I remember when we watched the stars in a park in Draper in the middle of the night.
I remember how you gave me your jacket because it was cold outside.

I remember how you would walk me home every day and we would have the coolest conversations.

I remember that one time when you were terrified to cut your hair, but I told you that your hair was getting a little ratty and I liked short hair, so you cut it.

I remember how you were too shy to play guitar around me, even though I tried to teach you.

I remember how we would watch random movies all the time in your basement, and you would grab my hand because yours was cold. I knew you were lying; your hands were always warmer than mine.

I remember how your mom would drive us to get smoothies, or take us to a random store to hang out.
I remember how she would talk forever about how much she missed Hawaii, or tell me embarrassing stories about your childhood.

I remember that one time we went to Kohlers with a bunch of people, and Kirsten pushed us around in a shopping cart until we got kicked out.

I remember when we threw you a mini birthday party, and your mom put on the cat version of happy birthday, and as you listened to a chorus of felines singing "Happy birthday" you were tackled to the floor by your mom, trying to wrap a streamer around you and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

I remember how we would walk up the hill behind your house and sit on it for hours, just talking and watching the lights of glowing buildings.

I remember that one time we tried to roast marshmallows in your backyard, but ended up nearly blowing up your house by spraying it with axe.

I remember how we'd be in the middle of a conversation when you would interject by saying "I just had a flashback" but then would feel guilty about interrupting me before telling your story.

I remember how we tried to bake cookies that one time at your house, but your dad made them for us because he had a superior recipe.

I remember how my knee would always start hurting, and you would offer to be my crutch as I walked home.

I remember how we would always sit on your roof and talk. You would always have to force me to come down because I was terribly afraid of heights.
I remember how I used to have to borrow your pants because I didn't want the shingles to scratch my legs up.

I remember when we ditched school to go to iHop for breakfast.

I remember when we got kicked out of Bed Bath and Beyond for lying on all the beds and looking like suspicious teenagers.

I remember that time we went to a dance in Lehi. I remember how we sat outside instead of dancing inside with all the other random people.
I remember how we dressed in formal clothes even though everyone else had casual clothes on.
I remember how it was cold and windy outside, and my dress caught the wind, but you covered your eyes and turned away.
I remember how we went up the street and laid in the middle of the road and watched the stars while Alyse and Carlos slow danced under a streetlight. I remember how you, Aubrey, and I all held hands.
I remember how we all said we would never lose contact. Ever.

I remember how we were sitting in your computer room looking at internet sites to expand the list of cool things to do when the clock struck midnight and it was the new year.
I remember how we walked up to our hill and watched all the beautiful lights as we sat on huge chunks of ice and snow fell down in front of us.

I remember how you used to deny it when I asked you if something was wrong, just so I wouldn't be worried.

I remember when I went to your family reunion Christmas party with you. I remember how all the adults smiled at us and teased us about what a cute couple we were. I remember you patiently explaining that we weren't a couple. I remember them not believing you. I remember the way you blushed, and how I knew you wanted their remarks to be true.

I remember how you would be so excited to hang out with me that you would sit at the park down the street from my house for hours waiting for me.

I remember when we would hang out at your house, and little Charlie and his friend would whisper to each other and taunt you about me. Children are adorable.

I remember how your mom let me borrow the Great Gatsby to help with my report, and it took me a year to return it.

I remember the day you were sitting on a table in the cafeteria being quiet. I remember when you told me your mom only had a year to live. I remember crying.
I remember she's still alive.

I remember the last day I got to see you before you left for the summer. I remember how we sat on my driveway with our backs against the garage door and we looked at the stars. We played a game. You named it: Please Pass the Bacon. We found our own constellations.
In the midst of our game, I remember we saw a shooting star. We wished on it.
I remember we couldn't tell each other what our wishes were. Its alright, I knew what yours was anyway. And I remember, mine was simply not to let you down.
Wishes on shooting stars don't always come true.

I remember giving you a big hug when you left. I remember you walking home in the dark.

I remember you telling me how much you liked me on the phone as I sat on my uncle's diving board above his pool. I remember saying I only wanted to be friends.

I remember saying only 10 words to you the following year.