Glancing out the window I could see them. My darling parents. I could just feel the warmth.. The happiness they were feeling right then as I watched the love between them from only a gaze. I looked out past the branches, at the overcast, the empty limbs like veins against the sky, twisting and turning along the swirls of clouds that held back the sun. Below all that wonder, my mother and father danced around, kicking up the snow around them, making a visible, nearly magical mist around them. My mothers milky face held a smile only a mother could... And I could hear my fathers laugh, so stern yet, ever so soft. But the longer I starred, the more I noticed the wind traveling up their bodies, the snow consuming all of their being. My fathers laugh and my mothers smile were nearly a memory, flowing away with the wind. I choked back a sob, and held my breath for what seemed like hours, but I let loose a long sigh of relief knowing my emotions weren't compromised by my grief and lack of control of my thoughts.

Don't assume there's anything wrong with her, she doesn't want you to know. She'll write when she's ready and let her mind consume the pages until there's enough to go around. When all is through and she's run out of ink, she might find you in your wonder only to tell you the little bit she couldn't pen down. But that's all you'll know. Her true life is sealed amongst the people she creates. You see a little bit of her in everyone. But never in the bad guy. She's not the bad guy. Never wants to be... She just want's to know that some one else can hurt for once.

My mind was hit.. Pounding with every possibility that it could be. No. I rephrase. Every negative possibility. I herd her giggle and him laugh. What is it they're discussing that could be so funny? I push it out of my mind, but it's still there. Her giggle. I can feel it in my eyes. The heat, my anger building. But I'm not mad. I can feel it in my arms, the shaking. But I'm not exerting myself. I can feel the sweat in the soles of my shoes from my feet. But I'm not nervous or anxious. Yet my final straw is pulled and I can't stand to even hear her draw her next breath. I push open the door and find no one. Could there really be so much hate in me that I lost control of reality? Could reality hate me so much that it gained control of my mind? What if it could do this all the time? Make me feel, hear, see things, recreate things that were never really there...

She can use this to her advantage for she does it a lot. Makes something out of nothing for comfort or care. You say you can help her, you say it's a problem. Is it? She seems pretty happy there. In a place that only she knows. A place that only she can go and make something of. You say it's in issue amongst others too? Oh there's a proven theory? She feels so over looked. Meet her new friend Hector. He's a nice guy, and he's perfect in every way. His hair a dull red, his eyes as green as a maple in summer. His lips an off shade of pink, perfect but not to plump. His posture is extraordinary and he's brilliant beyond belief. He loves her. She loves him. You don't see him standing just there? Holding her hand, sharing a gaze? Sorry that you can't make something out of nothing. That you can't make a dream reality.