Rescued

Light.
I can see it in the distance.
I surge forward,
but it doesn't get closer.

I push through the cold water,
choking me from all around
constricting my body,
forcing me to cease my efforts.

My fate looks dim,
the surface so far away.
Unattainable. Lost.
Nothing can help me now.

Then he comes.

Pushing through the water,
he embraces me,
pulling me toward a destination
I've longed for.

His body moves effortlessly through the water,
as if he were swimming through air.
The weight of this world gradually lifts itself,
and my body begins to move through the water

Gasping for air,
my lungs indulge in the essense,
this appetite finally being fed.
My eyes drift toward my savior.

Nothing spectacular,
But all the more amazing.
He's a normal boy,
yet everything I've longed for.

I smile, and it is returned.
He helps me out of the water,
wraps me in his warmth.
And here I am.

Secure.

Hourglass

He ran. An not just ran. He could hear his voice echoing down the streets of this small city, and try as he might, he couldn't make himself stop. He heard a bullet ricochet off the dumpster to his right, the sound of glass shattering bouncing off the bricked walls around him. He needed to get the hell out of this alley--preferably with his heart still pumping.

As he narrowly made his escape, and darted left onto the street in front of him, he realized his voice had ceased, and the street was at least a tiny bit more crowded than the alley. But he knew public witnesses wouldn't stop the man behind him. He knew his best friend, afterall. Nothing short of the dramatics.

His vision snapped him back into reality. David stood there, brown eyes locked into his own. "You stabbed me in the back, Sam."

He looked around. Everyone was staring at them. He really did hate for private matters to become public. But then again, this was David Reece. Nothing was ever kept private with him. Not the victimized stuff, anyway. Oh, there was plenty David kept hidden from the public eye. But any chance for him to be the victim? No, David ate that up.

"I'm pretty sure that's not the way it happened," he replied, eying the VodkaCran in his friend's hand. "And if you would have even tried to be reasonable and listten? You would have known that."

"I don't want to listen!"

David's voice lingered for a moment. Sam sunk that in, and ran a hand through his hair.

"You're so quick to assume everyone has it out for you, Dave." He chuckled in near disbelief. "Who hasn't been on your bad side? Your best friend? Your boyfriend? Your mom? Thing is, we aren't. I screwed up. I hurt you. And I'm sorry. But I wasn't out to get you. And you didn't even give me the chance to talk it out before you blew it all over the world."

He shook his head. "In some ways, I am pissed so royally because you couldn't respect me like I should have been. You came at me all accusational, and didn't allow my side to be told. And it makes me think, 'Hmm, do I really want this guy to be my friend?' But at the end of the day, you are. Because I know you better than any one of those gossip whores who no shit about any of this--or nearly anyone here, for that matter."

He stepped closer. "Point is, if you cant give me the decency to talk it out, I kind of would rather you go on hating me. Because that means after all this time, you really don't know me. And that hurts worse than the disrespect."

He threw a twenty on the bar for his tab, nodded to the bartender, and walked past his friend. The crowd incredulously remained silent as he broke through them. Someone grabbed his arm on his exit out.

"Give him time."

Sam brushed past him and continued on. The thing about time is...it's always running out.

Carnivale

Torn, Confused, Broken, Hurt.
The teeter never stops tottering.

The roller coaster with its ups and downs
does little to amuse,
The carnies all hidden behind
clever masks of friendly fun

The darkness creeps in,
The day gives way to night,
The chill air brushes against my shoulder,
nothing to cover these open wounds

I cry out for hope,
understanding, sympathy?
No, nothing is freely given,
Everything has a price.

The joy is gone,
The sorrow wept,
Nothing more than mirrors and mazes,
contorting the image i've tried desperately to form

I stop and take a breath,
Soak in those familiar sights and sounds,
The dreamland lost in a wave of reality.
I reach the top of the hill.

The slope goes on for miles,
twisting and turning, up and down.
I look back at the track behind me,
covered up by a dense fog.

Nowhere to go but down,
I brace for the drop, grit my teeth,
and prepare for the long road ahead,
continuing on the journey unkown.

Hiding Behind Walls

For my final project in Advanced Writing, I wrote two short stories: Of Discovery and Of Life and Death. When posting them together, I wanted a title that correctly encompassed both stories and I felt a similar theme in both works was walls. Both main characters have built was in defense of what they feel, and both men learn to slowly take down these walls. So here they are for you to read.

Of Discovery
Jake is an average high school student, struggling with how he is perceived by other people. In order to complete a school assignment, he begins to journal. And through his journaling, he begins to see himself for who he really is, and comes to a personal discovery.

Of Life and Death
One morning, Chris wakes up to realize his husband is dead, and through the motions of burying a loved one, he begins to understand the emotional pressures placed onto him through what he feels as abandonment. Eventually, he realizes he must face the issues of abandonment he has in order to truly lay his husband to rest.

Hope

Where do I go

to find myself,

to hide myself

from this world I'm living in?

The spring awakens

from a dark and cold winter,

a hibernation from myself

and the places I've let myself go.

Anew and rejuvenated,

I search for that inner peace

to help me find a way

back to that place I called home.

There's something in the air.

I breathe in a soothing scent,

a tropical beach paradise

The place I escape to

Tomorrow I will find myself again,

Today I sit and wait,

observing strangers as they pass by,

rushing off in their daily lives.

A woman carrying her child,

A suit and tie glancing at his watch,

A grandmother crossing the street,

All off in their own little worlds.

No one looks at me,

I understand, I'm not a part of that world.

Not today, but soon.

In time, they will know me.

I hide from a bright and glorious world,

in the darkness I thrive,

but in time that will change,

Tomorrow's a new day.

the fear inside

Lying awake in bed,
Wishing I could have said
something

to keep me from feeling blue
to keep me from losing you

theres something behind those eyes
those pretty blue eyes that hypnotize
if i could just bear the simple pain
to rip off this elaborate disguise

i know it would be so much better
i know i could be so much better
how can i keep the fear in me
from losing you?

the past has left me weathered,
issues keep me tethered
to a pain i feel deep inside
thats why I write this letter

explaining who i am
explaining where i am
but where i want to go is not yet written
and the one i know who keeps me livin

the life i lead would be so much better
i know i could be so much better
how can i keep the fear in me
from losing you?

i apologize for this disguise
its not fair to you or what you want to do
i want to be yours, dont you understand that
my happiness stems from only you?

we were happy before this rift
and we're destined to be again
i know you feel it too
cause babe its me and you

your dark brown hair,
your pretty blue eyes,
a smile to save a thousand lives

i want you to be so much better,
t0 make you feel so much better
the one thing running on my mind
is taking care of you

forget the doubt, forget the worry.
im here babe, im in no hurry.

I'm lying awake in bed,
wishing i could have said
something more.

Just tell me how to keep from losing you.

The Click

The light flickers,

the wind chilly

I turn,

Walking deeper into the abyss

Something's coming

Hard, fast

Lightning cracks the ground beside me.

I shiver.

Wake, wake

the morning comes,

but there is no sun,

only darkness

Where to run?

Nowhere, Anywhere.

The ice is chilling.

I drink.

Ah, that's it.

There goes the click.

Forming Clarity

Unsure of this life,

Caught on the lonesome road.

Dark and desolate,

He waited for the light.

The shiny, soft light,

shades of yellow and green,

round and lively,

bringing him to a sense of clarity.

But it wasn't there.

What he felt, and who he was,

it was sad.

Big moment of sadness.

It's gone. All of it.

Nothing is here.

Where is the light? Where can I find it?

Is it here? Is it in you?

The Heart Brings You Back

Time, Time

Got to go

Go away

Not enough time

Leave, leave

Try so hard

Hard to stay

People always leave

How do I get back,

back to a place

where I'm okay

with everything I am?

When did I lose myself?

Where did I go?

Questions, questions,

All I have are questions.

The answers are there,

I just can't see.

Logic isn't fitting,

only fleeting me.

Time, time.

Plenty of it,

always there.

Not enough time.

Leave, leave.

Don't want to do it.

Never want

to leave.

"Entertainment Now" Interview

Jeff: (to audience) I'm here with Kyle Low, star of the new teen thriller, "Slasher High". (to Kyle) Thanks for making it out, Kyle.

Kyle: No problem, Jeff. Glad to be here.

Jeff: Now Kyle, you play the main character, Chris Keller. What's his role in the film?

Kyle: Chris is the center, man. The mystery revolves around him. The killer is killing off his friends, one by one, and he has to figure out who it is before he's the next one to go.

Jeff: Why is he a target?

Kyle: Without getting into too much detail, he does something pretty stupid to trigger the killer's rage. Basically, he makes fun of an old urban legend surrounding the school, and the killer seeks revenge.

Jeff: So he's an asshole, Chris?

Kyle: Essentially. At the beginning, yes.

Jeff: What changes?

Kyle: The way in which his friends are killed is in direct correlation to how he treats them and what he says. Chris realizes how much of an asshole he is. So, by mid-movie, there's a significant change in him.

Jeff: Does he survive?

Kyle: You'll have to go find out won't you?

Jeff: (laughs) Fair enough. Now, the other lead is the sexy, Kristin Blaire, who plays an acquaintance of Chris', Mandy Hargrove. But she's not very fond of him, is she?

Kyle: No, Mandy is deinitely not on the Chris train. While his friends and girlfriend all swoon over him because he's the star of the football team, Mandy keeps it real.

Jeff: So what happens to put you two together?

Kyle: They're lab partners. Chris does a dick move and ruins their experiment during class, so a few of them have to stay after school to et it done.

Jeff: And that's when the killer shows up?

Kyle: That's when the action starts, yeah. Someone mentions the legend. Chris is a douche. And the killer begins his killing spree.

Jeff: With all these killings , it seems like Chris learns his lesson. So it's more than just a slasher?

Kyle: There's some depth, yes. For those who love a good horror flick, there's plenty of that. For those that want a little more, there's some of that, too.

Jeff: Sounds good. Now, this is your first big role in a movie. How does it feel?

Kyle: It feels great! I still can't believe it. I've done a few minor characters here and there. But nothing like a lead role. I love it!

Jeff: What other projects are you working on?

Kyle: I've got two other films in post-production, where I'm more of a supporting character. "The Darkness Within," where I play the best friend to a guy teetering on the edge of psychosis. It's a really dramatic role and was interesting to see Matt Goldberg go through his character's psychosis. And in "Kings & Thieves," I play a more comedic role as one of the henchmen to a business typhoon who's a bit dirtier than he portrays. Dylan Lutz is the main guy in that.

Jeff: Why the big switch between drama and comedy?

Kyle: I just wanted to try my hand at different types of films. I'd like to be a well-rounded actor. Show directors I can play an arrogant football player, concerned best friend, or a crazy henchman. I think it'll open up more doors to show different sides of me.

Jeff: Well, sounds like two very interesting movies. (turns to audience) "Slasher High" comes out this Friday, April 15. (looks at Kyle) We look forward to seeing you in it, Kyle. Thanks for joining us.

Kyle: Thank you.

Jeff: (turns back to audience) We'll be back with some more entertainment news after the break.

Firework

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?

She walked down the hall silently, books in hand. Around her, people were shaking hands, bumping fists, hugging, and kissing. The sounds of chatter stung at her like annoying bees. She aught the eye of a cute blond boy waving at her. She smiled and waved back before realizing he was waving at Kendra McClain behind her.

She put her head down and continued walking, not noticing the "Caution: Wet Floor" sign beside her. After a few steps, she lost her footing and her right leg slipped straight out from under her. Books flying, she landed hard on her butt before tapping her head on the ground.

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin, like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

Kendra gasped and rushed over to help her up.

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?"

She looked at Kendra, surprised. "Y-yeah." The blond girl looked astonishingly concerned. She almost couldn't believe it. She gave a shy grin. "Floor's s-slippery when w-wet."

"Yeh, they should really do something about that janitor," Kendra said, helping her to her feet. "I mean, who mops a floor right before class change?"

She nodded weakly. "Yeah."

"Do you need any help to your next class?" Kendra asked, grabbing her books.

"I-I t-think I'm g-good," she said, taking her books from the other girl. "Th-thanks."

"No problem." Kendra smiled. "Hey, if you're not doing anything for lunch, you can totally--"

Do you ever feel already buried deep? Six feet under, screams, but no one seems to hear a thing.

She opened her eyes and looked around. Kendra was already down the hall. Her books were strewn out around her. She sat up as the bell rang and people began scattering to their next class. No one seemed to notice that she had fallen, or cared to, anyway. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and began reaching for her fallen books, placing them in a stack.

Do you know that there's still a chance for you, 'cause there's a spark in you.

A tear fell from her eye as she reached for her last book. But it wasn't there. She turned and noticed a pair of white shoes next to her, and looked up to find the blond boy holding out to her the final book. She quickly wiped away the tear.

"Thanks."

"Nasty fall," he said, helping her up.

"S-slippery when wet."

He chuckled. "Yeh. Dangerous."

He grabbed her books and began walking down the hall.

She paused.

"Rachel," he called back, turning around and grinning. "You coming?"

She smiled and walked toward him.

You just got to ignite the light and let it shine. Just own the night like the 4th of July.

"You know my name."

He laughed. "Of course. We've been going to school together for two years now."

He pointed to a door on the left. "Osborne. Geometry. 1st Block, freshman year."

She looked down in a shy smile. "Learn, you will."

"That's right!!" he said, laughing. "She did have a thing for Star Wars. didn't she make us find the circumference and area of the Death Star?"

He nudged her. "And you were the only one to get it right."

She put a hand over her arm and kept walking. "That's me. The nerd."

He shook her head. "No, no. It's better than being an idiot. Like Kendra McClain. That girl actually applied to Cal U. Like 90210? She said, 'If it's good enough for Kelly Taylor, it's good enough for me!'"

They laughed. Rachel felt at ease.

"Here we are," he said, stopping at a door to their right. "Bio, right?"

"How'd you--?"

He smirked. "I have my ways."

He handed her the books.

"Thanks Tyler," she said.

He nodded and gave her a smile. "So, see you at lunch?"

She grabbed the handle and pressed down, still staring at him. "Sure."

Smiling, she turned and opened the door, walking in to the classroom.

Baby, you're a firework! Come on show 'em what you're worth.

Go Light Your World

[This is an unfinished fanfic of the tv show "One Tree Hill". This story takes place at the beginning of the third season of the show.]

Prologue

Luke's Journal Entry

Friday, October 13, 2006

The brain tends to trick us into believing things that are not there. We've all seen it, or heard it. The brain is believed to be the more horrifying than any reality. The brain is the place where all horror stories and movies come from, after all. Emily Dickinson once wrote, "One need not be a chamber to be haunted; one need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing a material place." So, what happens when your brain starts to deceive you? Will you run and hide? Will you face your worst fears? Or instead, would you seek them out, eliminating them one by one?

Chapter One

"Well, here we are!" Haley James Scott exclaimed excitedly as her husband, Nathan, pulled his car up the driveway to an old plantation house 15 miles outside the town of Tree Hill, North Carolina. The car held Nathan, Brooke Davis, Peyton Sawyer, Lucas Scott, and herself.

"Remind me what we're doing here again, Tutor Wife?" Brooke asked as she sat up from the back seat as Nathan parked the car.

"We are going to be a part of a mystery show here at the Stagville Plantation," Haley answered. At Brookes glare, she added, "Come on, it will be fun!"

"But it's Friday night!" Brooke complained, but she exited the car with the rest of the gang. "Just don't expect me to do anything but sleep!" She turned to Lucas. "Unless, of course, you want do a little something."

"Have you given into being with just me, yet?" Luke asked the Brunette.

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You're the one missing out."

The gang walked up the dirt sidewalk and waited at the door as Haley knocked. A tall brown-haired man, who looked to be just out of college, opened the door.

"Ah, you must be my…victims," the man said. "Come in. I'm Bradley Warshaw, the creator and producer of 'America's Ghostlands'. You can call me 'Brad'."
As the gang entered the house, Peyton whispered to Haley. "Victims? Ghostlands? What is this show about, Haley?"

"Well, legends and folklore," Haley explained. Peyton gave her a "what have you gotten us into" face. "Don't be a wuss! It was my idea, and you know how much of a scaredy-cat I can be!"

The gang entered into a living room covered in old furniture. Brooke made a disgusted sound. "Why am I here?" she complained, softly. But looking around, she noticed how serene the place seemed.

Brad turned to them. "You are in the Bennehan House. This is where you'll be staying, along with the Horton House, Horton Grove, and the Great Barn. You can go anywhere around the plantation, but you most be wearing these"—he picked up five cameras sitting on a couch—"at all times."

"Umm, sorry Mr. Producer Guy," Brooke started, "but what is supposed to be so scary about this place? It looks kind of peaceful."

Brad answered, "Stories of ghosts and hauntings at Historic Stagville Plantation go back for decades. Neighbors of the plantation have reported strange lights in the windows of the former slave quarters and a nearby house that was rented to sharecroppers. The apparition of a young African-American girl has been seen several times at the slave quarters, prompting several grounds people to abandon their equipment and flee in fright. In recent years, the Sheriff's Department and Fire Department have responded to false alarms at the Great Barn, and have reported seeing the apparition of an adult African-American male in the loft.

"The staff of the plantation has experienced several unexplained events in the main house, including doors locking and unlocking as they watched, the sound of footsteps when no one else was there, and voices murmuring. One particular evening, a staff member was locking up the main house when she heard footsteps coming from the second floor. She went upstairs to check, and no one was there. She quickly set the alarm and left by the front door. She waited for some time, watching the house, but no one emerged. The next morning, her supervisor informed her that the motion detector in the main house had been triggered, but did not set off the alarm. She also found a skeleton key which rests in the keyhole of the front door several feet from its usual place, lying on an antique couch."

He paused and let his story sink in before continuing. "You are going to spend the night here looking for the ghost, or ghosts, that haunt this land."

Chapter 2

"What the hell have you gotten us into, Tutor Wife?" Brooke asked, as the teens put on their cameras. After telling them the story, Brad had stepped outside into the America's Ghostlands trailer to check on equipment.

"Relax, Brooke," Peyton told her. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah, fun until the ghost stabs you to death in your sleep," Brooke told her.

Lucas stepped in. "I thought the whole point was to not go to sleep?"

"Pfft!" Brooke told her. "Tomorrow's Saturday. I'm not going to the mall looking like a zombie."

"Well, look on the bright side," said Haley. "If you turn into a zombie, you won't have to worry about looking like one. You'll be one." She gave a teasing smile.

Brad came back inside, and interrupted their conversation. "Okay guys, the sun is just about to go down. I trust you all have eaten?"

"We stopped on the way up," Nathan assured him.

"Great!" Brad exclaimed. "Camera's are on, and we're ready to rock."

"Ready and waiting," Brooke told him, with a smile. "Are you going to be here all night, too?"

"I'll be in the van monitoring you," Brad said. He looked at his watch. "We go on live on the internet in 5 minutes." He opened the front door, and turned to say one last thing before he exited. "Good luck."

---

Brooke sat on an antique couch. She would have been bored to tears if she wasn't wearing masquera. Instead she was just bored. What's there to do on an old plantation anyway? she thought.

Naley, Lucas, and Peyton had gone outside to explore the grounds before the sun fell all the way down. Brooke, afraid to get too much dirt on her new shoes, decided to stay inside. Which doesn't sound like such a good idea anymore.

She heard a loud CCCCRRREEEAAAKKK! from another room.

"If you're trying to scare me, it isn't going to work," Brooke said aloud. "It's not even that dark yet!" The sun was just setting, so the house was filled with an eerie orange glow.

Silence.

"Guys?" Brooke asked, standing up from her position on the couch. "Hello-o." She took a step in the direction of the noise. "Luke, if you make me come find you, don't even think about anything between us later."

Silence.

"Guys!" Brooke said as she walked toward the room.

The room appeared to be a dining room. The table was set with a white cloth, which had turned yellow, over the years and silver dinnerware that looked like it hadn't been polished in about three decades.

She heard another CCCCRRREEEAAAKKK! And looked past the table and saw a kitchen. She saw a figure walk past the doorway. "Luke? Tutor girl? Is that you?"

She walked through the room and into the kitchen. The figure appeared to be in front of the sink. "Hey, you okay?"

The figure turned around, and stared at Brooke. A gust of wind blew at her, as the figure of a young African American girl shouted something inaudible at her.

Brooke heard a loud scream, and it took her a few seconds to realize that scream was hers. She turned around and ran out of the house, her screams filling the air.

Chapter 3

Brooke ran into Luke and Peyton as she was exiting the house. Lucas grabbed her. "Brooke. Hey, what's going on?"

"Sh-she's in there!" Brooke told him.

"Who?" Peyton asked.

"The slave girl!" Brooke looked at Lucas. "Aren't ghosts supposed to be not real?"

"Brooke, I'm sure it was nothing," Peyton assured her. "You were in there alone."
Brooke shook her head. "No! I saw her."

Lucas looked over at the van. "Look, if it will help, we can ask Brad to show us the feed." He looked into her eyes. "If there's nothing there, will you be okay?"

Brooke nodded. Then she realized something was missing from this picture. "Where's Nathan and Haley?"

Peyton looked at Lucas. "They had to…talk."

---

Haley and Nathan were walking down a dirt path.

But not talking, Haley thought. Why won't he talk to me? He said we could be friends. But friends talk. He hasn't said one word to me since we left Tree Hill.

Nathan stopped. "Haley, this is stupid."

Haley lost her trail of thought. "What?"

"This." He pointed to the camera. "All of this. This camera, this night, us. Everything. It's just- I thought this would be fun. But it isn't. I don't know. Maybe because-"

"Because we aren't together?" Haley suggested. "Because you don't know what you want, and it's killing you inside?" She stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his, and looking up into his eyes. "I know what you're going through. I went through it last year. And we've had this discussion a million times, but it seems as though it's not working, so why don't we not?"

"Not what?"

"Do this," Haley answered, taking her hand off of his. "I don't know how I can say it any better than 'I love you', but that just doesn't seem enough for you. I won't lie. I had a good time on tour. But it would have been so much better if you were there with me."

Nathan saw all the sincerity in her eyes. "I love you too, Hales. I do. I just don't trust you."

"Well, how are you supposed to start to trust me when you won't even talk to me?" Haley retorted. "You haven't said one word to me all night. Nathan, I thought we were past this."

"We are," Nathan assured her. "You just got to give me time."

"Fine!" Haley told him. "Take all the time you want." With that, she turned her heel, and walked down the trail. Even Nathan's pleas didn't make her turn around.

---

Lucas, Peyton, and Brooke looked at the monitor in shock as Brad showed them Brooke's feed of the kitchen. The girl Brooke saw was real. Brad had two feeds on the screen, one Brookes, and one, a permanent camera in the kitchen. And the one in the kitchen showed the girl disappearing almost into thin air as Brooke ran out of the room, a silent evil laugh lingering on her face as she disappeared.

Satisfaction

Here's some food for thought:
Go to lunch with a friend;
Send a letter in the mail;
Have some fun.
I know what you did last summer.

Love is pure;
Sex is hot.
Don't leave the door closed,
or your shirt tucked in.

You're not as clear or innocent
as you seem.
The glass is cloudy.
The numbers are there.

Don't be afraid.
Live a little.
The grass isn't always greener;
You are who you are.

Fulfilled.

Beginnings

I think writers are a gateway to another world. Or even a reflection on the world at large. What's important about a writer is a he writes what he feels. It's personal. It's easy for some, hard for others.

When I write, I feel comfortable. It's who I am. In my blood. I have issues with what's the "right" way of writing versus how I tend to write. Sometimes I don't write because I feel my style is unique. It's free-flowing thoughts. A period at the end of a word.

What I really want is reassurance that how I write, what I write, is okay. I'm afraid of failing at getting across what I want to. And being unliked. I want to be well read.

If I had one dream, it would be publishing a series that hit it. That best sold in 40 countries. That people everywhere get something from.

I am me. First and foremost. And that comes across in my writing. My heart and soul is in everything I write. I feel good about it. I want others to feel good about it. I want others to love my stories and my world. I want to be a writer. Published. Television. I'm going to write. I am going to inspire others to write. Create. Live.

I promise myself that I will stick with it. Keep it from faltering. By this time next month, I will have a number of writings with my authorship.

I think that fear of not being good enough is what prohibits me from continuing through with the ideas and plans that I make for myself. It's why I have rewritten the same beginning to the same idea for 7 years now. What if it is not well received? What if people think I'm merely rehashing old ideas? What if people take it and trash it? And what if the idea I have is my only good idea? What if I don't have another one?

Writing is personal. Letting someone in is personal. It's a reason why I have relationship issues. I'm constantly searching for approval and that's why I can't commit. I have issues I need to face. Maybe this blog can help with that.