Who I was;
--The snow is falling so lightly as I tread my way across my backyard. Everything around me is so still, so beautiful; I shut my eyes and stick my tongue out trying to catch the tiny snowflakes that are falling faster now. I drop my glove in the pool of snow. I pick it up, and try to brush the snow off with my hand. I dance my way to my swing set. The metal is cold, and the swing is covered with soft snow, I take a seat on the freezing swing set, and swing. Unable to feel the world closing in on me, not caring about the cold weather; the world is shut out while I try to swing my life away. My face is numb; I can’t feel my feet anymore. My mom is calling my name, but I don’t hear. I can’t hear anything in the stillness of that beautiful December day. She is screaming louder and louder. I fall off my swing, and land in a cold blanket of newly fallen snow. I start to cry, the tears feel never ending, and freezing on my small cheeks. I feel my mom hands on my back trying to comfort me, reaching out for me. I turn away from her, trying to resist depending on her. I sit in that soft snow blanket, and cry; Shedding tears. My mother picks me up, and brings my little numb body inside. She wraps me up in a blanket, and holds me until my tears are all gone. I wonder now as a 16 year old where I can get that feeling now, that comfort I felt in my mom’s arms that day. I’ve always longed to be needed, to be loved, to be comforted; begging for attention, searching for love, for affection. Searching for this feeling is a hunt, & I can blame most of my mistakes on my annoying need to find it. I still feel like that little girl on the swing set that day. Trying to escape, trying to feel something, longing to shut the world out. And then at failed attempts, to land on my ass. I will always be that little blonde bombshell crying in the snow because of her mistakes, waiting for someone to come, and reach out to her, pick her up. And hold her till the tears run dry. Maybe I will always be there, trying to escape, trying to be loved, waiting for someone to hold her hand, and remind her of the mess she made for herself, and helping her clean it all up.
--Music blaring, I can’t hear my thoughts. I try to chug half my waterbotle of vodka before we arrive at the party, I can’t imagine myself going in there sober, and actually having a good time. I take out a cigarette, and light it hoping to feel more of a buzz. There’s 5 girls in the car all screaming the song streaming from the radio. We are on the highway now, all the windows are down, and my hair is blowing out the window. My cigarette ash is flying at me, and I am now heavenly drunk. I feel my head getting heavy, and my heart start to race. I feel my entire body tingle, and my stomach feels burning hot. I love this feeling, I live for this feeling. We step out of the car, put our bottle in a bag, re do our makeup and head for the front door, to a house of people we all barely knew. I take that walk every night; I know this scene so well. Every night I went out to hopefully never have to go back to reality, to pain, to stress, to life. This used to be all I knew. Drinking, partying, and self destruction. The first time I drank, I was in the summer of 7th grade. My friend’s dad always kept hard liquor around the house, and we were always curious about it. And when she walked down with the cold bottle of yage, and poured us shots; I knew I would never have to live my life with curiosity again. That night, I fell in love with a monster, with the most dangerous thing for a 13 year old girl to be attracted to. And for the last 3 years, it was my abusive boyfriend, my backstabbing friend, my unstable mother, and my poison. It could cause me pain, it can cause me to get in trouble, lose friends, and make me be someone I’m not. But I stuck around because I didn’t know how to get away from it; I didn’t know how to let it go. Drinking was always a crutch, something I could fall back on, blame things on, escape from. But the person it molded me into, is someone I have to look at in the mirror, and live with. If I could go back 3 years ago, and live in that night again, I would have said no. and saved this train wreck from starting so early. It’s not safe to play with fire at such a young age, and it’s even harder to put out the flames that we ignite.

Who I am
--It’s Christmas day. It’s cold, windy, and snowy outside. My 4 siblings are home for Christmas. Steve’s’ plane landed yesterday from Chicago, Melissa and Jenny made the drive home from their colleges, and Matt has been here the whole week away from his St Paul house. I look around at my beautiful family. My oldest brother matt, almost 26 is reading the paper in the living room. He glances over at me, and smiles warmly. He has always been the one who tries to save me, when the family gains up on me, he’s the one to step in, and take the spotlight off of me. He’s always been so protective, and loving towards me. Steve, my 24 year old brother is watching football on the TV with my father. I don’t see him much during the year, but when I do. I can’t be happier. He has always been so nervous about the influence he has on me. He has always been so scared of what I will become. I make my way to the couch to lay my head on his shoulder; he kisses me on the forehead and returns his attention to the TV. I walk upstairs to the girls rooms. I see my two older sisters in Jenny rooms exchanging stories from college. I step in the doorway, and they both abruptly stop, and stare at me wondering what I am doing. Melissa is 20, and has always been my role model, I’ve always tried to follow in her footsteps, but they were hard to own up to. She smiles at me slightly, and asks if I want to come in, I shake my head. And turn my view to my 18 year old sister, the cold cynic who I have come to know so well in the past 2 years when it was just her and I in this big empty house. She makes a funny face at me, and turns away. She is probably the most successful of the Ramey family, making her light shine through every aspect of her life; sports, friends, school. She will always be my hero, the girl I wish I could have been. I make my way across the hall into my pink room, and sit on the floor in front of my mirror. I look at myself, the baby of this family, the little girl, and the 15 year old who is trying to be 21. I wonder where my life will take me, if I will ever be able to walk my own footsteps, or if my successful siblings’ shadows will always tower over me like a large suffocating blanket. I ponder on the fact that I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as them, as the ones before. But for some reason, I am okay with it. We have different paths we must walk, mine might just be a little different then all of them; and maybe I have to fuck up a couple times before I find my way, maybe I have to make mistakes to grow up to be the person I am destined to be. Matt comes in my room, and picks up the guitar he got me last Christmas, and strums it delicately. I drift away to the sound of him playing my guitar, and think how lucky I am to have such a gifted family, and even if I’ll never compare to my brothers and sisters; I know that at the end of the day, I am good enough for them at whatever condition I am in.

--I’m lying on a giant hill in my backyard. It’s the middle of summer, and I am 6 years old. It’s a really cloudy day, and I can’t see much blue in the sky. I’m not sure how long I have been on this hill staring up into the sky, but it seems like I have been here my whole life. I am trying to make up shapes that the white fluffy clouds are making, but none of them seem to form anything worth trying to put together. The grass starts to irritate me, so I get up, and walk into my endless woods. My daddy made paths back here when I was really young, and they lead all along our acres. I walk on them for hours, staring up to the sky, and looking at the different trees we have. I sit down on a log, and pick at the worlds core for awhile. I remember my dad saying that there was a park back here once. We even walked to it. I don’t really remember the way, but I think I’ll be able to find it. I pass lots of people along the way, so I believe that I am on the public park paths now, there’s lots of signs that I can’t understand, and I keep making random turns trying to remember how me and daddy found our way. Before I know it, I am more then lost. And all I can do is cry hoping that I will find out where I am before it gets dark; I have no idea what time it is, or where my backyard is now. I keep walking, and walking; and it seems never ending. I finally find my way to the park, but there’s no one there. I make my way to the dock, and sit on it and wait for someone to show up. The sun is going down now. And I wonder what I am going to do. I’m not sure how long I sat on this deck before my daddy found me with my dried up eyes, and dirty clothes. But all I remember is getting in his car and the look on his face; filled with worry, anxiety, and pain. He doesn’t talk much, just rubs my back as we drive back to my house. My mom is crying for some reason, and I wonder what I did to make them so sad. They explain to me what I did, and how nervous they were for me. And I promise never to do it again. I’ve seen that look of dismay on my father’s face many times in the last few years. I know I am not lost in the woods anymore trying to find my way home; but I know that both them, and I feel like I am wandering trying to find out where I am, how to get home, where to find safety. There’s different woods I am lost in now; different paths that I am turning on to that I have no idea where they lead. That day I got lost, I wasn’t scared of anything; I didn’t even understand the effect my actions were having. But when I came to the dead end, and noticed I was lost; I was terrified. I never used to be scared, I never used to be afraid of the decisions I was making. But now, in life; I hit a dead end. And now I am back to being that little girl; lost, alone, trying to find her way back home and someone to save her from falling off the edge.

Who I will be
--When I was seven, my whole family packed up the car, and took the long 7 hour drive to South Dakota where most of my moms’ side of the family lives. It was my grandparents’ anniversy, and we go there every year to celebrate, and see my extended family. We were driving back from the church, and I was in my father’s car with my cousin Kyle, jenny, Melissa and my two brothers. We were driving on a road close to all the farm roads way in the country. The weather on this day hadn’t seen unordinary. The sun was shining, and they said there was no chance of thunderstorms. My dad was singing along with his radio, as us kids in the back were laughing, and trying not to pay attention to him. I remember looking out the window, and seeing that it had got really dark, and storming looking. The world transformed in a matter of minutes in front of my eyes. It got really windy, and started to hail. Then the world stopped, the wind was completely gone, and now there was just a disturbing stillness on the country side of these lonely roads. I looked out my car window, and saw a cloud spinning not too far away, it was touching the ground, and the world started to spin again. Everyone in the car except my dad, and brothers was crying. I wasn’t sure what was going on but I was crying to. When we finally arrived at my grandma’s house, they told all us kids to go downstairs, and play. All the kids raced down to the basement, but I saw all the adults on the porch. I went out there, and took a seat on my father’s lap as we watched the world spin, and the cornfields be ran through by various funnel clouds. My dad held me so tightly, and asked if I wanted to go inside. But for some reason, I didn’t. I could have watched that storm all day, I was envious of how powerful the storm was, I was shocked at how much destruction it could do. And when the storm passed over, and faded out. The world transformed back to its beautiful self. Rainbows formed beyond the horizon, the sun came back out. And except for some damage, the world looked perfect, it looked identical to the way it did before the storm. And ever since that day, every time it storms, I find myself looking out the window, or sitting In the screen porch on my father’s lap watching the destruction, and the recovery that the world goes through. It always makes me hopeful. Mostly for myself I think, because as I grew up. As I watched each storm; I would always feel connected to the world as it fought through the storm. Because I know how it feels to be destructed, hurt, and damaged. And I know how hard it is to recovery from such a powerful surge of hurt. But every mistake I made, every person who hurt me, all the things that went on in my life and will go on in my life; I know there is a rainbow, and sunny skies ahead for me. Its easy to get taken away by the storm, and give up. But I am much like the world, never letting any storm keep it down for good. And no matter where I go in life, no matter what storms I may have to sit through, it doesn’t matter what life throws at me; I will always be recovering. Doesn’t matter what age I am at; 15, 20, 38, 54, 76; it won’t matter. I will always weather the storm, and make my way through this life; just like I have watched the world do for so many years.

--The roads are long, with turns at every minute. I’m not sure where I am going, or where these roads are leading, but I get on them because I feel like the world is taking me on them for a reason. I ride these roads until the end, until I come to a turn. The glass is becoming foggy, and the outside looks like its turning black, but there’s light at the end of the road. So I go to it faster, and faster trying to find my way back home. I see myself start to stop, start to turn. Running far away from the light towards endless darkness. I take the turn onto a glowing driveway. I see a house at the end of the driveway; with a few lights. It looks warm and welcoming so I keep going. When I get to the house, the door is locked. And I am forced to turn around, and get back on the same dark road searching for the light. It has passed, it’s far away now. Now it’s me and the darkness; my best friend. I see it dimly in front of me; this time I will walk slowly towards it taking stops along the way to find out why I got on this path, I will keep my mission in mind, and not take any wrong roads along the way. The light gets brighter and brighter until I can’t see anything behind me. All there is; is everything in front of me. I feel like my past, my mistakes, my regrets has been burned away, and all I have to worry about is my future. I am home finally with the light all around me. Wherever the darkness of my life has lead me or will lead me, I know that at the end of the day; there will always be light shining through, and I will always be able to find it again; no matter how dark life may get; there is light somewhere in my future. whether that means that I find someone that I can share my life with and make a family with, or if it means that I get the job that I have always wanted, or if I am successful, and wealthy. Whatever the light is, it will be there; and it will shine through and find me. Life leads us on a lot of roads, and some may be dark, some may be bright. But whatever paths we may take in life, we are there for a reason. And we will always be delivered home to the brightest one; it may just take some long trips, and some big mistakes to find our way towards it.