16. Just do it - If there's something you've been putting off, right now is the time to do it. Seriously, there's no time to waste. If your credit bills are piling up, do something about it. If you've been madly in love with your best friend for the last year, just tell her. If you feel like you've put on a few pounds, go to the gym.

17. Things take time - You can't rush life. Some things require much time and effort. But don't give up simply because it seems arduous or unpleasant. Take it one step at a time. A day may seem long, but it'll seem short in a week.

18. Get out of the house - Seriously. Get out of the house. If you find yourself feeling cooped up and anxious, get out of there as fast as you can.

19. Dine with friends - Got nothing better to do? Buy some groceries and cook dinner with a buddy at your place. Or you two could go to a cafe for a cappuccino and scone. Regardless of where or what you eat, nothing bonds friends more than food. Take the time out of your busy schedule to retain the friendships that you presently have.

20. Productive days are the best - Remember that feeling of accomplishment that rolls over you when you did everything you needed? You did the laundry, the dishes, washed the car, took the dog for a walk, cleaned your entire bedroom and finished all your school work. When you use your time wisely, the day flies by, memories are made, things get done.

Nevermore

by Carmen Varner

"Honey," she told me. "That's no fun.

Take a seat in the hot, hot sun."

I told her yes and went outside,

where there's no place for me to hide.

My feelings for you just won't go.

It seems that time has made them grow.

I wonder why, I wonder when,

you'll say you want me back again.

"A great day to write, isn't it?

At least life has no speed limit,"

a guy told me as he walked by.

I nodded and tried not to cry,

tears of sadness or tears of joy.

All of this is about one boy.

I told myself to stop this shame.

Nevermore will I say his name.

Lonely, lonely, alone, alone.

By now, this fact should be well known.

I thumbed through the petite notebook. It was slightly larger than a deck of cards, but its contents were infinitely greater. The cover included an illustration of a sleepy looking bear with a blue polka dotted nightcap. A dash of Japanese writing accompanied the tired cartoon; the language appeared so foreign in my English-reading brain. However, the outside is unimportant. It's the inside that counts.

Within this little collection of papers was seven days of fluid creativity, thorough inspiration. When I wrote what I wrote within the tiny lined pages of the notebook, I had no idea its words would continue to haunt me 171 days later.

I read through each page. I was searching for something. I became so lost in my own memory that I had forgotten my goal. I remembered when I looked up.

"So which one are you going to choose?" asked my friend, Chandra, as she hovered over me. Her eyes darted from the notebook to me. 

Oh right, I thought. I was supposed to decide what I wanted to perform for my theatre class.

"Um, I don't know," I replied, lost in thought.

"I'll help!," she exclaimed and ripped it from my hands. Chandra flipped through and landed on a page. She cleared her throat dramatically and began reading.

"I'm all the way over here. At this precise moment I think of you. I wonder if I cross your mind. Probably not. Should I forget you? I would if I could. Is there some magic potion to erase this feeling? I wouldn't want to do that because you make me feel so much."

I cringed. Man, it was terrible to have to hear that read out loud, especially by a voice other than my own. I had already lived through that instant when I wrote it, I didn't need it echoed by my enthusiastic friend. That's the one part I tried to skip. Did she have to read that one?

"Is this about Bud?" Chandra inquired. 

"No," I laughed. Her question truly was humorous. It most definitely was not about Bud. I didn't care about him that much to write about him. Not now. Not ever. This was about someone entirely else.

Chandra fingered through a few more pages and cleared her throat once more.

"I thought of you again. Thankfully this distance has kept me busy. I think of you less. I don't know what to do with this feeling. Shall I sweep it under the rug? Should I move on to someone else? Because I don't think you feel what I feel and it becomes more and more apparent. 

Time seems to move on sluggishly. As of now you are not forgotten, but things change. Life will continue. I'll go back to the daily grind and I will not wait for you like a puppy. I've done it before and I vowed to never do it again. I'm doing it now, but I won't allow it to continue. 

The issue is finding someone to replace you, as you have a very large part of my heart. Luckily, I'm a master of unattachment. I want you right now, but I don't want someone who doesn't want me. 

By the time you realize, it may be too late. It's your loss. They always say that, but I believe it. You may not, however. Because if you did, you'd want me too. I wish I could verbalize all this but I can't in fear of utter rejection, of a change in our relationship. 

I don't know what to do anymore. It's borderline unbearable. This gives me plenty to write about, but even more to think about. Slowly but surely, I'll continue on. All these words seem so small in the big picture. Are we even a good match? I don't know."

No, those words could never be about Bud. Though Bud was my present, he could never compete with my past. I didn't say anything. Chandra didn't either. I was completely mortified. My thoughts, though several months old, were lying naked and vulnerable in Chandra's hands.

I decided to break the silence.

"I'll probably go with the thing I wrote about my spiritual enlightenment instead," I told her.

Where is the love?

I am exhausted from the killing.

White flag.

White dove.

Is anybody willing

to commit to peace

instead of murder?