Fight

I'm sorry I've been absent. My heart has been heavy. Me and Tiffany had a fight and for a while I wasn't sure we were going to make it through. It started from nothing -- a comment about dirty dishes -- and worked its way into one of the biggest fights we've had.

We've been together for ten years now and I thought we'd worked through our kinks, but I suppose now that the kids are grown and off to college we have to get used to it just being us. It's never been just the two of us.

She joked about doing the dishes after she'd cooked. If she cooks I'll usually do the dishes, but I'd had a long day and didn't have it in me to do the simplest of chores. I was short and took her joking too seriously and suddenly a joke became a disagreement, which rolled right along into a full blown fight.

She accused me of being selfish, I accused her of the same and worse. I needed a break, one night off; she needed to feel appreciated. We yelled, no one listened, doors were slammed and car wheels screeched out of the driveway. We lost each other in those moments and we lost sight of anything outside of our own needs.

I stayed away for over a week; I ignored her calls, texts, and emails. I was ashamed of my behavior and the pain I'd caused Tiffany. She didn't deserve the things I said. All my old insecurities flooded back and suddenly my angel had fallen to the darkest parts of hell. But really, I'd fallen into the darkness; unable to claw my way out, I immersed myself in it and shut out my angel's light.

But our love is strong and eventually we were able to see each other again, to see the truth of who we are and the love we share. We fell back into each other and have come out stronger for what we endured.

Sleep

It’s 3:33 in the morning and I can’t sleep... I decided to pick up Sarah’s diary again and see if I can find any more clues... I’m trying to understand where she was coming from. What she was thinking... I’m reading between the lines and wondering if maybe I will fall asleep and dream something, a clue... something I can’t see in the waking hours...

April 15, 1994

Why? Oh my god, why? This cannot be happening to me. What the hell do they want from me? They took the last thing that I had left on this earth that I truly loved. We went to the end of time together, then held each other and cried, ‘cause there was no where else to go but back!

I just wish I understood... I’m going back to sleep. I’ll post this tomorrow maybe you guys can help me understand...

Neighbors

It’s rare to have a happy ending to a story like Amanda Berry’s. You heard about her, right? The girl who’s been missing for a decade and was recently rescued by Charles Ramsey, the neighbor of her kidnapper… And I’m sure you've seen the video of Ramsey’s interview, it’s viral beyond viral and offers more than the superficial laughs from his unintentional one-liners like, "I barbecue with this dude. We eat ribs and whatnot and listen to salsa music." Look beyond the delivery of Ramsey’s statements to the words what they mean. They were neighbors for a year and not Ramsey, or any of their other neighbors had a clue that three missing women and a child had been captive on their street. It makes me wonder, how well do we know our neighbors?

Do you know who lives next door to you? Across the hall? Down the street? The people in this neighborhood thought they did -- they socialized with Ariel Castro, they let him take their children to the park, they ate with him and did other normal, neighborly things with him. He even helped look for one of the girls who he abducted, and consoled her family! The whole time, he had the three women and a child hostage in his house.

I remember when Erika's family was found dead. They found her remains with those of her twin sister. I remember Sarah's shock when learning Ericka had a sister that Sarah never knew about. Erika was Sarah's best friend before me -- how do you not know your best friend has a twin sister? Things aren't always what they seem.

I'm glad that the families of Amanda Berry, Michelle Knight, and Gina Dejesus have their daughters, sisters and granddaughters home. As hard as it will be to uncover the truth of what happened to them during their captivity, it will allow them all to begin to heal. I wish Sarah could have that. I wish we knew what happened to her and I wonder if we'll ever know what really happened so many years ago to Ericka, Owen, Jackie & Sarah's family. Until we find Sarah, none of us can ever really begin to heal. We don't have a lot of clues, but Sarah leaves us breadcrumbs from time to time. Between the sightings and her diary, there are clues. I still can't believe people don't believe me... how can you not believe when there's so much evidence?

The truth is revealed when we look beneath the surface. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Don't assume what you see is all there is.

Evidence

From my experience reality is always stranger than fiction. And where fiction gets strange my guess is that it’s firmly based on reality. My bet is that the strangest scenes from movies, the ones that seem completely unreal are often based on true crime stories that boggle our minds. 

I've been studying forensic science, and I watch an insane amount of real crime shows. What have I learned? There’s no perfect crime and even when there are no witnesses the tale will be told. Little bits of evidence, blood stains that seep through the floor and aren't removed by scouring and bleaching the surface. Small spots of blood splatter revealed by keen eyes and technology. Bugs and natural processes exposing the timeline, when death occurred. Lungs filled with soot when killers attempt to dispose of bodies, burning them still alive.

Every little detail tells a part of the story. Hair, finger nails wearing the nail polish last seen on the missing person, paint chips, phone records, strange behavior the list is endless. I don’t remember if Sarah was wearing nail polish the last time I saw her... Even with all of this knowledge and information, Sarah’s body has never been found. Her blood, her painted toenail, no trace of anything. I guess that’s why I believe that she’s out there, somewhere. Maybe reading this right now...   

Terrorism

In the wake of the tragedy of the Boston bombing, I think of the terror felt by those who experienced the bombing as well as their loved ones who waited for word that their mothers, husbands, daughters, sons, brothers... were okay.

How horrible to be wrought with the fear of not knowing. I remember so many years ago, before 9/11, before shoe bombs at airports and anthrax in letters, before the world was changed forever... I remember the feeling of not knowing, it was more than some can take... how do you move forward if you can't surely say your parents are dead or alive? Sarah's descent into a terrific terror began when her parents went missing... their bodies were never found.... her brother was implicated in their disappearance... her mother's wedding ring was ultimately found in the room where they found Sarah's Diary.

So many questions remain unanswered. I still wonder why about so many things, but I know the terror Sarah felt was real. She believed she was being watched & followed by people she once called friends. She was never quite right after Erika's body was found, but that incident in San Francisco really freaked her out...

Terror comes in many forms... It dwells in the lingering question of What if? and hides around every dark corner. What if they find me today? What if they catch me today? What if they're watching me right now? What if they don't actually exist? What if it's all in my head...

Why?

I received this anonymous email in my inbox the other day. It really made me wonder why... why I keep writing and searching... why we do anything for that matter. After all these years why I still believe when there are a lot of people out there questioning if Sarah’s diary is even real...

Hi Heather,

If that’s your real name... I recently found out about Sarah’s Diary via a friend’s facebook page. I followed the link and started to check out her videos and pictures. Some were really pretty but deep and dark, and some of the posts started me thinking about a lot of stuff from my own life. Anyway, I was curious so I bought the ebook of Sarah’s Diary and read it in a weekend. Now I’m even more confused.

When I read your blog I see you talk about your interactions with Sarah, how much you miss her and are still looking for her. Are you for real though? I can’t tell if she is fact or fiction.

The main questions going through my head are, Why would you still be looking after all this time? Don’t you want closure... I mean after all that... everyone pretty much ending up dead and the diary being found at such a gruesome crime scene, I mean if Sarah was really around however many years ago don’t you think she’s probably dead now too? Those missing persons cases you write about, most of those seem to end with a dead body...

I’m not trying to upset you I just want to know now too. Is Sarah’s Diary really real? Why do you keep looking? What makes you think she might still be out there, alive?

---

Why have I been thinking about this anonymous letter for 5 days now? I want to respond, I want to know the answers to those questions too...

Lindsey's Devil

"Lindsey began to talk to Heather. She told Heather how smart she was for watching her all this time and picking up her habits. During school they would have to pretend that they did not talk. After school sometimes they would meet in the woods so they could talk. Lindsey and Heather began to play this game called Profile. They would pick people out of the yearbook and watch their habits. They’d watch everything—the classes they took, when they got to school, when they left, who their friends were, how they dressed, the routes they took to class, what they ate for lunch, how they groomed themselves, and basically everything there was to notice about them. ...I asked Heather where Lindsay is ‘cause we could sure use her help right now. Heather said that Lindsey just stopped going to school one day and was never seen again. Nobody even noticed she was gone. To them, she had been gone a long time ago." ~Sarah's Diary, October 15, 1993

I haven't thought about Lindsey in a long time. I knew her better than Sarah realized. I went to meet Lindsey in the woods one day after school, like we did all the time, but she never showed up. Lindsey had told me about this guy who called himself Devil. She said she saw him show up in town one day and he looked at her with the oddest expression; she said it was like two ghosts recognizing each other. Lindsey always saw more than she let on and she could disappear in plain sight; she had a talent to make herself invisible. She followed Devil and watched him, playing the same Profile game we played together at school. The day she didn't meet me in the woods was the day she was going to tell me what happened when he talked to her. All she told me was that she wasn't supposed to see him, that he moved with the shadows and that he told her if she didn't go back to being a little girl, he would make her grow up really fast. Lindsey was scared, I could tell. She wouldn't tell me over the phone what she'd seen -- that's why we were meeting. She was going to tell me what this Devil guy had been doing, where he'd gone and who he'd been with; she said I'd never believe it, but she had to tell me. She said if anything ever happened to her, I needed to know. She never showed up. I always wondered if she actually had been there, watching me. I still wonder if she's watching me and if she knows what happened to Sarah.

Body

Have you ever seen a dead body? I feel like I’m not sure anymore what Sarah saw, but I know my own experiences... I’ve personally seen a crime scene after the fact. After the police came in and thought they got all the evidence, and the body was gone. The dogs were gone, the drugs were gone... There was hair on the floor in a few places, and  shoes and things, clothing - we picked out the last outfit she would wear and which pair of chuck taylor shoes, books, self-help books...

And then one of us cleaning up, she found the broken murder weapon. We couldn't, didn't know what to believe and didn't believe and even the cops told us to “just throw it out, (they had)... everything,” thinking the murder weapon was a tool from the fireplace, it wasn't. We threw it out and within a few months it was confirmed by the killer himself. We had touched it, tossed it into the trash.

I remember the tomatoes chopped on the counter and the big knife... I remember a lot of little details. I wonder about the rookie cop who answered the missing persons call and found her. Saw her body through the sliding glass door and the dogs running around the yard. I've lost too many friends at this point. Even years later the memory is like last week.  Like yesterday...

I wish Sarah would just come home and face the truth, get some help and let us all move on in our lives. We can’t forget, but can we forgive?

Justice

Here in America our legal system says you're supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. I look at Sarah's situation and wonder how many people have read her diary and automatically think she's guilty of those horrific murders. Yes, I've seen her videos and I know some of them make her look kinda crazy, but in my heart I know she must be innocent.

I ran across this story about some guys who were convicted of murdering some kids a long time ago and throughout their years in prison, they kept telling people they were innocent. They had movies made about them and still they sat in their jail cells, innocent men convicted. After more than a decade of fighting to prove their innocence, they were successful and are now free. There's a new movie coming out about their journey and the fact that whoever killed those boys is still out there.

Sarah's still out there too. I've always thought her story would make a good movie. So many questions remain unanswered, but there's so much in her diary, so many clues and history. Why not show the world her story? If nothing else, I bet it'd help us find her and that's really the point of all this.

I miss you Sarah. I know you still read this. I won't give up on you, I promise.

Missing Persons

Alerts for missing persons show up in my email once a week. It may sound weird, but it makes me feel productive to search over the news stories looking for clues, if not for Sarah for anyone who’s gone missing. Someone who’s already lost everyone with hardly anyone who cares to look for them, after they disappear themselves...

I look them over then read more from Sarah’s Diary: April 14, 1994 Jason scared me last night! He came into my room while I was sleeping and was just standing over me. I lay still, frozen with fear, because when I said his name he did not reply. He just turned around and whispered, “You shouldn't have come back.” Then he walked out of the room. I was too terrified to go back to sleep...

It was like Sarah felt she had nowhere to go after a while. How crappy to feel completely unwanted... I don’t think she would have gone so far as to... I don’t even want to think it much less type it. I still want to believe she just left; disappeared, figured something out and got far away from the insanity following her like a shadow... sometimes you could see it, sometimes you couldn’t, but it could show up at any time. That’s enough to drive anyone crazy and inspire them to run. I hope that’s what she did. I hope she didn't end up like in this drawing, or some of the people in my alerts... sometimes they are never found. I’m going to bed. Comment and tell me if you've seen any clues, every little thing helps.

Have You Ever...

...Felt like this?

My father and I got into an argument today about me spending so much time with Ericka or in my room. I’m sorry if I don’t fit into this perfect family, but what do they expect me to do-- sit and watch TV with them and tell them about my day? My dad said that I look like crap ever since I’ve been hanging around that girl, and that my attitude has changed. Maybe I just woke up to what bullshit this world is all about.

I've been rereading Sarah's Diary and this entry stood out. I remember feeling just like that -- I remember how my parents thought they knew everything, but they had no idea what was really going on in my life. They thought because they'd "been my age" that they understood... how could they understand what I was going through?

I knew Sarah. I was her best friend. I'm still looking for clues in her words. Have you felt like she did? Do you feel like she did? Please read her diary and tell me if you see any clues. We need to see through your eyes just like Sarah wants us to see through hers.

The Problems of the Innocent

I've been searching... I have been searching myself for answers, trying to find a way to explain how all of this happened.  Sarah, I saw your last message.  I saw the pain in your last message and I don't understand what has happened to your innocence.  It seems as if the innocence of life has slipped away from you and completely escaped your reality.  When we were young, our innocence could be seen easily by others; now we aren't so young anymore.  I do understand people don't look at us the same, but why do they have such a hard time seeing our innocence?  Sarah, I still believe you are innocent.  I still truly believe you hold innocence in your heart.  I believe you.

To all people who have seen my dear friend Sarah's latest video message:  Do not beware of her because of what she may do, she is a good person who has a lot of problems.  We all have problems and obstacles which challenge our daily activities.  Some people have problems that can be view as greater than others, but all problems carry their equal weight on the individual; to each individual, a problem is a problem.  If you read Sarah's Diary, you will find a person with problems.  You will find a person who may shed light on problems similar to your own.  Please do not judge her on her video alone; there is a reason for her actions on the video and those reasons are in her diary.

I'm sorry for being gone away for so long Sarah.  I know you feel alone out there.  Please know I am here for you. I know in my heart you will see this message and we will be together again.  I know your problems and I'm sorry I left you.  I didn't know... I'm here and I miss you.  I will not go away again.  I am going to help you find the answers to your problems.  You are missed.

Earth: Magician's Secrets Revealed

My last post stirred up the emotion of challenged beliefs -- the instinct of self preservation, human beings defending what we know to be true even when that truth is wrong.  Many different acts have been committed against people who didn't believe in the same thing believed by a stronger, more powerful group of people.  The Nazi party of Germany had beliefs.  What determines the stronger dominant social practice of a country's beliefs?  Is it the collective idea which dictates the power of what we believe individually?  Many great thinkers tell us that we are our own moral authority, but we are subject to the influences of our environment.  Christopher Columbus told Europe that their flat-world was actually a round-world.  Does a unanimous opinion/belief make that opinion/belief a fact?  Our present society understands that the beliefs of our predecessors/ancestors were not always correct: the Salem witch hunt, slavery, the holocaust, etc.  Horrific events caused by the beliefs of humans.  Only through the power of opposition did those beliefs cease to be the dominant social practice of the places which hosted those horrific events.

The present moment of a human's understanding is that human's reality.  The present moment of your understanding is all that you know.  The present moment is an accumulation of all you have experienced and learned up to this always/only present moment.  When Birdie told me we are aliens it challenged everything I had learned and experienced at that moment.

I didn't expect to hear anything of value when I questioned "Birdie" about his statement.  He was a crazy  man who lived in a park.  I only asked, "How are we aliens?" because I thought it would serve as a humorous pastime for me and my friends hanging out in the park.  It was the craziest, most absurd thing we'd heard up until that moment. He pulled out a mirror and changed my understanding.  He said:

"Look in this mirror and tell me what a human looks like.  Do we look like we are supposed to?  do you look like you are supposed to?  Do you smell like a natural human?  Do you look like a natural human?  You don't look or smell like you are supposed to.  What does uncut, uncombed human hair look like?  How does a human body smell without perfumes and daily baths?  We detest our natural odor.  We detest uncombed or uncut hair.  It is part of our social contract.  Humans do not wish to be humans anymore!"

I looked in his mirror at my reflection and I couldn't see the real me.  I stared deeper into his mirror to see my reflection.

"The human race harnesses earth's secrets. A human thought, a human dream can be come real.  Imagination exists.  We create children without sex, we move without walking (all around the world) -- airplanes, boats, cars, etcetera.  We make light with no sun.  A human thought can be heard all around the world instantly.  These are unnatural creations of humans on earth.  That makes them alien creations.  Shaving is alien to your natural appearance.  Perfume is alien to your natural smell.  Telephones are alien to your natural communication.  Computers are alien to....?  Cars are alien to....?  Do you see where you are?  How far are we removed from our natural existence?  We create a synthetic world that is derived from our natural one.  This planet allows we/humans to bring the thoughts and dreams of our minds into physical existence.  Welcome to earth.  The planet of human magic."

Magic?  I couldn't see earth as magic.  Magic wasn't real.  Magic is entertainment to make people believe something that seems impossible become possible.  The magician tosses our thoughts and beliefs out and brings in our imaginations.  We watch in disbelief trying to understand as the magician performs and reveals things we cannot conceive with our normal understanding.  Birdie moved the mirror closer and like the magician, he challenged my understanding.  He said,

"Free your mind - Blank!  Think about all human invention.  Don't think about the process of invention. The process of invention doesn't allow you to see true magic. It's like a magician revealing the process of the trick.  How can you see magic if you know the process of the trick?  You can't see the magic like that.  Take away the processes of human invention and see what magic creations humans have pulled from the earth.  Allow your mind to remove the process it took to bring our inventions to life.  allow the inventions of humanity to simply appear from human thoughts.  Understand these inventions came from earth, but remove the process of how these inventions are derived from earth.  Allow human inventions to be thoughts which earth allows to appear in physical form.  A though, a dream, a nightmare can be born on this planet from the human mind.  It can exist and become a live through the collective belief of human social practice.  The belief of one mind can control the minds of many and many will fight to protect the collective belief created by that one mind.  Where do you think you are?  You did not design the system which you were born into.  The practices of your daily life have been taught to you .  Your family and those around you teach you from birth things that were taught to them.  You know nothing from birth outside that which you are taught to believe and even if that belief is not true, it is all you know in your always/present moment.  So, what happens when something you've been taught to believe (by everyone you know) turns out to be a lie?  I'll tell you what happens... You've been tricked.  What happens when I call you an alien?  Do your beliefs kick in to protect what you know?  It seems foolish to your understanding."

He removed the mirror from in front of my face.  The night had fallen upon us.  The city lights glowed and flickered in the background.  An airplane flew overhead.  He spoke,

"Look around you alien.  Your reflection is everywhere.  We are not natural to this world.  How many can survive without the grocery store?  How many can live in their areas without clothes?  Early human used animals.  Why do all other species live naked?  We are dependent on our creations.  Shoes have made feet too soft for the natural ground.  Grocery stores have taken our understanding of where food comes from.  Most humans on earth cannot hunt without a gun and most humans have never eaten from the bones of an animal they have killed.  The process of invention.  Even our food is made alien.  When an animal dies within two days the animal is in rigor mortis and old blood turns brown within hours because of coagulation. Why is the meat at the grocery store still soft and red weeks after the animal has been slaughtered?  Are hot dogs and hamburgers processes of human invention?  It is magic in this world.  Humans, welcome to earth."

The day I heard Birdie's theory my understanding of the world changed.  I began to notice human invention and I realized my life revolved around those inventions.  Toilets, toilet paper, windows, doors, doors that move by themselves, transportation (we move hundreds of miles in an hour?!), television, books, constitutions, space stations, space crafts (humans can live outside of earth), telephones, pictures, videos, tables, chairs, stock markets, shampoo, face lifts, liposuction, machines (x-ray) which can see inside a person's body without opening them?  How come I didn't see it before?  These creations came from a thought.  A thought in someone's mind is all around me and all of it came from earth.  Look into a forest and think about television.  Yes, the process was gradual, but the end result is still the same.  The television came form earth.  The computer came from earth.  I wonder sometimes, are inventions really free thought?

I ran into the street to tell everyone what I had learned and yes, I sounded as crazy to everyone around me as Birdie had sounded before I heard his theory.  We are aliens?  Don't sound so foolish.  We humans are just like every other species.  I don't talk much about this topic. I don't want the labels that come with a notion so absurd.  Don't look at this post as a nature platform.  Like a drug addict who flees from intervention, I don't believe I could cope well without my alien comforts.  I know what I am as I send this message all around the world in seconds.  I am just like you and everyone else reading this.  I am extraterrestrial.  Call NASA... Let's take a space ship to another planet.  I'll call you when I get there.

A Man Named Birdie

I keep my thoughts to myself about ideas, questions and answers I feel I have discovered through my curiosity.  I discover new things when I question my understanding of myself and the world around me.  I know I don't have a full understanding of myself and the world around me, so I/we seek to know more.  My questions challenge some people's beliefs about the world and as history has shown, it is very dangerous to challenge what someone believes in.  Challenge someone's belief in religion or politics and they will defend their beliefs.  It's similar to an instinct.  It can be as simple as an argument over who is at fault in any given situation where two or more people believe it is the fault of the other.  The argument is a basic instinct derived from self preservation.

My silence on things I have discovered in my search was directed only toward the masses (until now).  These thoughts were only shared with a few people like myself.  Those broad minded individuals like yourself, Cuddlebug, who dared to hear something which challenged what the believed.  The following analysis was discovered by two teenagers sitting in a park, looking up at the moon.

Evening turned to night.  The wind blew the leaves from the season of fall.  A familiar face passed mumbling and staggering.  The familiar presence didn't surprise us.  We understood we were in his home.  He didn't have a residential house or apartment, but he did have a home.  Why do we call people who live in parks and back alleys homeless people?  Those types of questions we ask each other for the sake of understanding.  A topic like that leads to a philosophical dialog that tests the limits of  understanding.  I attempt to question the question and we both ask why.  Why is the familiar face we know as Birdie considered a homeless man when he has lived in the same place for 20 years?  Isn't the park his home?  Birdie's presence in that park is as much a fixture as a bench, table, or swing.  All seasons Birdie is there.  He told us at the time, "There is no experience better than living.  Living holds all your experiences."  Birdie always spewed out random statements like that.  He didn't speak much in front of strangers and sometimes he only spoke in question.

The man known as Birdie lived in our community park and was accepted by all his neighbors.  People would go out of their way to make sure he was okay.  Old clothes, left over food, whatever he needed because he never accepted more.  His camp would be broken down and hidden from view before sunrise.  He seemed to open up the park every with the ritual of breaking down his camp.  That's the way we saw it.  He opened up his home to us everyday.  He wasn't a victim of circumstance cast away by our great society because he lacked the necessary revenue to survive.  He was someone who'd grown up only a few miles away from the park.  His brilliant mind took him to the heights of scientific education, he studied physics.  One day he walked out of school, jumped on a plane and came to this park.  He called all of us aliens.

We/I used to think he was just a crazy old man spewing random nonsense until he explained his theory.  His theory is as intricate and complicated as life itself, but it is very possible he could be right.  I know it sounds crazy and like he did to us, I am going to leave you with this outrageous statement:  We Are Aliens.  I want you to listen to how absurd that sounds, "We are aliens."  Even those who are open to consideration have a difficult time trying to grasp that statement as a possibility.  I did.

This is a thought I hadn't shared with many.  Not many want to understand or hear a statement so absurd.  I ask you this:  If that statement were true, what would that do to your beliefs?  Has this statement engaged our instinctual self preservation button?  It's absurd why?  It is absurd because it's not something required to learn in school.  In my next post I will share a piece of Birdie's explanation.  I am going to explain a theory to you that made a brilliant student walk away from all he'd been taught to learn to live in a park so he could watch people be outside.  I love you Cuddlebug.  Slowly the truth of your diary will be revealed.  I know you didn't want everyone to know how these questions blurred the fine line between the world's reality and yours.  Miss you.  See you soon.

Secrets & Confessions

What is a secret?  Is a secret as simple as something hidden from others?  Are secrets the same as deception?  I have kept secrets.  I have kept secrets to protect myself and I have kept secrets to protect others.  I wonder if there are people who have never had to keep a secret.  I have wished to live the life of a person who’s never had to keep a secret.  What a joyous wonder it must be to have a conscious which holds no secrets.  To be open and honest with everyone about everything; to not worry about hurting someone or divulging a something about yourself that you don’t want the world to know,  It must be an amazing existence not to have the secret.  Are there people like that in our society?  Are there still people in this country who don’t have anything to hide from anyone?  If there is anyone who lives like that, please share your secret with the rest of us (no pun intended).  A world with no secrets holds no lies.  The secret and the lie are husband and wife.  People lie to protect their secrets.  Secrets & lies spawn mistrust and deception.

My eyes have bared witness to things which I cannot discuss or share with anyone.  I guard my tongue with my life.  I hold secrets from co-workers.  I hold secrets from friends.  I hold secrets from my children.  I hold secrets from strangers…like you.  I hold secrets from my wife.  My spirit holds precious cargo.  Those of you who have read my previous posts know what kind of secrets I have held or been forced to hold.  Those of you who know the torturous burden of carrying a secret such as that, understand what a secret can do to a person’s spirit: stain which covers you.  Holding secrets doesn’t protect you from yourself.  You know the truth.  The people you conceal your secrets from live a blissful ignorance while you agonize over holding in the truth.

If we do things we don’t want other people to know, should we be doing those things?  Let’s make this question more precise:  Are you hiding something you enjoy doing from someone?  If society doesn’t condone the things you like to do then why don’t you stop doing them? Are we afraid to live our lives in the open?  Why are things private and personal?  If we all do the same thing then why do we seek to be private?

No society is going to collectively agree that everything someone does is perfect.  Is there a perfect person among us?  Is there at least a person we all agree does everything right?  Here we are allowing a society to define us but we as a society can’t get the perfect definition.  So what about our lives we can’t share with each other?  Why do we have secrets about our lives we can’t share with each other?  If nobody is perfect can’t we understand our imperfections?  If nobody’s perfect and nobody live the ideal life then why aren’t we able to be honest about who we are?  Are we all doing things we know we shouldn’t be doing?  Is that the reason for all the secrets?

I have found the opposite of a secret to be very rewarding.  I have found secrets’ opposite removes stains like a soothing bath.  Secrets’ opposite is a confession and confession cleanses the spirit.  This type of cleansing you can’t pass up Cuddlebug.  You may get in trouble for your secret, but at least it won’t be a secret anymore.  You have to remove these stains from your spirit or else the filth of them all will make you unrecognizable.  The burden of a secret eats away at your spirit.  I love you Cuddlebug.  I haven’t forgotten.  I miss you.

You Called My Name

I'm staring at a picture of you Sarah. I have wanted to post a picture ever since day one. In the beginning, there were pictures of you everywhere. Then, slowly the pictures went away. When we published your story, I wanted the world to see your face again. I wanted the world to see how beautiful you are, but for the sake of your own safety we decided against it. I am so scared for you.

I have received your message. I don't understand it. I went into the coffee shop like you said, on the computer. I've been waiting to hear something from you for so long. After reading your diary Sarah, I have been in a daze. I can't believe it. I have read this diary over and over again trying to figure it out. I have read this diary over and over again trying to understand it. Every time I turn to a new page, I hope and pray it brings me closer to you. I started this blog hoping it would give me a way to find you. After the first contact, I was extremely excited. My joy and sense of accomplishment climaxed when I received your message. I waited at the coffee shop for hours upon hours thinking how great it was going to be to see you again. I watched every person come and go until there were no more people left to watch. The coffee shop closed and my heart crushed underneath the weight of its doors. Since that heartbreak, I have sat in front of this computer waiting on a message from you and finally yesterday it came. I don't understand it.

Sarah, I know it's you because the name you called me in your message. No one knows me by that name. No one has ever called me by that name other than you. You are the one who gave me that name. I knew it was you the first time. That's why I waited at the coffee shop for so long. At that time I wondered if you had seen me. Now I know you did. Yesterday you told me to go the coffee shop and grab my favorite coffee. You told me it was your treat. I didn't know what that meant at the time. I went to the coffee shop a little early trying to catch you or see if you were there. You left a specific time for me to be there and you must have known I'd be there early because you were nowhere to be found. I went to the counter to see if there was an order placed for me. The cashier told me 'no.' My heart sank. I walked away dejected. On the verge of tears I exited the coffee shop. I walked almost to the sidewalk when I remembered and ran back in. The same cashier stood at the counter looking at me a little concerned. I walked into the cashier and said the name you gave me. The cashier turned to me and said, "yes" we have your order right here. It was my favorite order of coffee, a muffin, and a note. I asked the cashier 'who paid for this order?' She told me a gentleman paid for the order and left. I stood there for a moment wanting to ask a question but no question came to mind, so I took my order and walked away. It wasn't until I got home that I was able to read the message you left with the order. I still don't understand it. It read, "You will find me where the sunsets and the birds fly free."

Sara, I don't understand the message. I don't understand what you mean. Do you not want me to find you or are you in trouble? I know no one knows me by that name other than you. So who was that man? Who was the man who paid for my order? How can you watch me and not come talk to me? Sarah, if I find a way to the place where the sunsets and the birds fly free, I will make it to that place to find you. I'm not going to abandon you. I will be here for you. If you are hurt or afraid of the people you're with, I will be here for you whenever you come to me. Now that I know you are reading this, I will continue to write. I love you Cuddlebug. I miss you. Write more later.

Faces of Love

Every year in this country hundreds, thousands of people go missing. Each one of these missing persons has a story. Each one of these missing persons has a family. The family's and stories are not numbers or statistics. These are real people in a terrible predicament. The death of a person is tragic and it can sometimes be very sudden and unexpected, but closure comes with death. Accepting the passing of a person we care for may not come easy and it may take some longer than others to reach this acceptance, but how do you come to accept a missing loved one? How do you come to the understanding that someone you love is missing and you have no idea where they are? Imagine your mother, your sister, your father, your brother, or your child is missing. This is a horror that many people must face every day and unlike the acceptance of death it doesn't get easier with time. This is an open wound which does not heal without answers. This is what the family of missing loved ones must endure: a pain which seeks closure. It's a horror no one should endure.

Before my friend went missing I used to be like most people. I'd see a missing persons picture and think it was sad or be indifferent and mentally disregard it. I wouldn't commit it to memory. Those same faces could have walked past me on the street and I wouldn't have noticed. Those lost loved ones, who so desperately needed to be found, would have walked right past me. I'm not like that anymore. I may not be able to remember every name and every face, but those I do remember will be saved if they can ever cross my path. I can promise you that.

Those of you who read this today, please, please think about this message the next time you see one of their faces. You don't have to commit every face to memory, just be aware of the faces you do see. If we all participate like this we may be able to help those families suffering with this horrible open wound, receive some closure. Please help. Please don't disregard those faces. They are important members of people's families. We miss you Cuddlebug. TTYL.

April 2nd

I lost a dear friend at work today. I knew it was coming. I worked at a hospital. I work in a place where the cycle of life is constant. Life and death circle around me constantly. Babies are born; life begins to breathe air in this place I work. People die; life ends. Life takes its last breath in this place work. A vortex of human energy in constant cycle. My job is caretaker of human life. I am a nurse.

I do my best not to become too attached to the people who become patients at my job. I do my job. I take care of them and do my best to make sure their healthcare needs are met, but I don't get too attached. I learned early on that becoming attached to my patients can make my job hard. I learned early on that you can't hold onto life no matter how hard you try. When it's time for life to come or go, it is time. The children are always the hardest.

A young boy came into my job two days ago. He was the victim of a gunshot wound to his head. I've seen cases like this before. I work in a major metropolitan area where gunshot violence is prevalent. Young men and young women are shot (not always killed) every single day. I'm not used to it. I'm used to death but not used to seeing these kids. It's always shocking to see. I've become numb to the shock. It hits me and I absorb it. I absorb being shocked and quickly stabilize and proceed. I don't know what was so different about yesterday. At work, it always seems to be the same day over and over again. I enter and leave the same way, but when the young boy arrived my heart melted. I became overwhelmed with emotion. It was as if I'd known this little boy all my life. His little body lay motionless on the gurney. His energy surrounded by commotion: paramedics, nurses, respiratory specialist, doctors, police, firemen, and his mother. I'm used to the commotion which comes with the attempt to save the breath of life. This little boy was different. I wanted to know what happened to him. Why was this life so close to being gone? I wanted to ask but it wasn't my place. Still, this one was different somehow. I had to know. I asked one of the paramedics. He told me it was a gunshot wound to the head inflicted by a family member. He wasn't sure who. I couldn't be numb. Shock waves erupted throughout my body. Why? How? I heard his mom crying to the Cop taking her statement.

Her two little boys were playing video games. The younger one who lay motionless on the gurney was 10-years-old. Her other son was thirteen. Somehow the 13-year-old got a hold of a gun. He pointed it at his little brother playfully trying to scare him in an April Fool's joke and the gun went off. It wasn't her gun and she doesn't know where he got it from. All I could think was how in the world or why in the world does a 13-year-old boy had a gun? What has the world become? Children feel the need to have a gun or defend themselves with a gun? Children feel the need for protection from other children with guns? What kind of world do we live in?

I worked a double shift overnight and I constantly checked on this little boy whom I felt I'd known all his life. At some point I felt I'd seen him move but I knew he didn't. At some point, I felt light he'd make it through, but I knew he wouldn't. Early this morning before my shift ended he took his last breath. I kept my composure all the way to the car and then set in it and cried. A long drawn out cry that seemed to cleanse me back to my numbness.

This world is trouble. Why? Why did we say and do nothing? We blame and blame. It's time for me to do more cuddlebug. This blog I created for you may help someone someday. I'm deeply troubled. Tiffany made me some breakfast. I'm going to try and get some rest. I love you Cuddlebug. I miss you.

The Results

- This is the answer to my experiment –

We judge people and condemn people with our judgments and opinions. Sometimes we need, or use, a consensus to condemn a person. Once condemned, how does a person escape the confines of condemnation? The guilty are convicted by the innocent? Who is innocent? Is my sin worse than yours? Is it difference in sin which makes us innocent or is it the consensus of the time which determines our condemnation? I'm not speaking on criminal acts. Criminal acts cannot begin to equal the condemnation and accusations we place on subjects and each other every day. Most of the time these judgments and opinions are invalid.
Sarah, you know better than anyone how awful it is to be accused. People have read your story and come back to me asking, "How didn't you know?" I say, "know what?" They say, "know your friend did all of those horrible things." I always respond to those people the same, " I don't know if she's done anything." It amazes me how a person who wasn't somewhere can no more than a person who was. How do you know anything outside your own experience?
Amy's party was fun. Tiffany and I saw a lot of our old friends from group and a lot of my co-workers were there. Amy and I had a real good talk about things in general. I realized during our conversation that her transition was taking a little longer than mine. It's equivalent to me graduating from college starting my new life and career, while she's still at college trying to decide her major. Instead of me understanding where I came from and the process it took me to get there, I treated the situation with arrogance and disdain. I viewed Amy's struggle to find herself with condemnation. During our talk, I removed my opinions and judgments which allowed me to hear her words in a new way. I no longer heard her as a selfish, confused, good for nothing person. I now heard her as someone who still struggled to find the things which make her happy. Someone who went through this struggle just like me.
Amy and I made plans to have dinner in the future. Nothing on the books yet but these are plans I definitely intend to keep. You see, Amy understands where am in my life. Amy knows that I had graduated and found what I was looking for way back then. She told me she hoped to find a relationship which can give her comfort. She still spoke about guys who could care less about her, but I didn't say anything. I figured she find what she wanted someday.
Sometimes in life we don't allow people to be who they are. We expect them to have the same way of understanding life that we do but that's just not always the case. We can't apply our way of thinking and processing information to someone else's way of thinking and processing information. This is not so much a blow to them as it is to us. Us being the people who apply unfair standards to people who don't deserve our judgments and opinions. We do grow past people but that doesn't mean our little brothers and sisters don't need our guidance and support. They don't need us to tell them what to do. They just need us to be there. We have to understand there's a difference in giving someone credit for being a good person vs. them doing what we think they should do. I'd rather have one really good person than a thousand people I can tell what to do. If you dislike a good person because they're not who you think they should be, then you should evaluate your judgments and opinions.
I'm here Cuddlebug. I miss you so much. I hope this serves you well wherever you are. I know we're underneath the same sun, standing on the same earth, and that's what makes me feel close to you. Love you Cuddlebug.

The Experiment

There's this woman at my job named Amy. Every time I see her, it seems to bother me. I purposely avoid her. We used to be friends and in her mind, it seems we still are. She just doesn't get it. She'll text me and I refuse to respond. She'll ask me, "Did you get those texts?" and I'd tell her, "Yeah, but I'm really busy." I'll say it hoping she gets upset so we can fight and I will have a good reason not to talk to her. It's not that she's a bad person. She's a good spirit, but she gets on my nerves. I can't say anything without her already knowing the answer. I feel like I shouldn't even have a conversation with her. We had a lot in common years ago.

Amy and I both used to attend the same divorce group. We also worked the same shift at the hospital. We were the best of friends. That time proved to be a very difficult transition for me. I found Tiffany and together Tiffany and I found love. Amy didn't fit in that equation. I feel bad. The more time Tiffany and I spent together the less time I spent with anyone else. That's how the equation added up. In the beginning, I did my best to make time for Amy. I'd go out with her when I should have been in bed. I'd go out with her and wished I hadn't said yes. It wasn't the same. The bars and clubs we went to were all places she felt comfortable. Originally, she introduced me to these places and at the time of my transition, those places were fun. I enjoyed our time together. Our nights out became a wonderful distraction for me and then my transition became complete. I met Tiffany and came into myself. I finally understood myself. I began to understand my likes and dislikes. I began to understand my needs, wants, and desires. No longer did I live for someone else. No longer did I live to please someone else and sacrifice my life to do so. I got to know me and fell in love with myself. The bars and clubs didn't feel right anymore. I began to see Amy and her lifestyle in a new light, and I couldn't stand it.

In the years since then, Amy has continued being the same way. She goes out all the time and refuses to commit to anything. She meets a guy and he's either the man of her dreams or somebody she spends all her free time with and refuses to commit to. The man of her dreams always seems to be someone who could care less about her but she conjures up at deeper relationship in her mind. One guy she'd only seen six times and she was calling him her soul mate. She compared their relationship to me and Tiffany's. The guy didn't even give her his real name. Next thing I know, he's gone and she's holding on to hope of his return. Then the guy she spends all of her free time with can't get a commitment from her. She hangs out at the same clubs and bars we went to years ago. It's pathetic.

I'm not a mean person Cuddlebug. I feel bad about the way I have been treating her. I am one who believes that when we have a problem with someone it's because we want a problem with them. When you already have negative thoughts about someone, then your approach to them is negative. If your approach to someone is negative, then your interaction with them is negative. That person can never do anything right in your eyes. Some things they do are only annoying because it's them the doing it. If someone we favor does the same thing someone who annoys us does, our response is different. I recognize this and I don't want to have a negative response every time I see this woman who I used to call friend. Tiffany gave me some good advice. She told me to interact with her on a positive note and be honest about my feelings. She told me it's not always another person's fault when you feel a certain way. The reason she's so annoying is because that's what I made her out to be.

Amy invited me out for a drink this weekend. It's her birthday. Last year, I told her I couldn't make it. Not very many people showed and I wasn't surprised. I'm going to go this year and because of Tiffany's great advice, she's coming too. I think I need to be more supportive to Amy like she was to me when I needed her. We'll see Cuddlebug. I have to find a sitter. I'll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck. I miss you.