point3

Q. - Questions. All of these millions of thoughts and questions inside my head are racing around in circles. They're dizzying themselves behind my eyes, where no one can see them. They let themselves out with every tear, and they trace each little shape of my face until they land on my lips. From there, they fall, and speak with the voices of a thousand memories, a million thoughts, and a billion dreams.

R. - Remember. Every holiday is spent at my grandmother's house. The seating arrangement never changes and neither do the people she invites. My great-grandmother used to have the seat to my right. The first few years after she died my grandmother never got rid of the extra chair at the table but once she did, it felt like everyone had forgotten my bubby. I haven't; every time we sit down to eat a holiday meal I think back on her and the good times we used to have. I remember.

S. - Secret. Cut after cut graced my arms like a whispered secret that no one would ever hear. I kept it hidden so well for so long. As I withdrew into my shell to live silently amongst my secrets, I only let a few in to share that space: Kathy and Jake.

T. - Together. "Kathy, when I'm older and have kids, I want you to be there in the room holding my hand through it all. Would you do that for me?" "Do you even have to ask?! Of course I'll be there with you sweetie." "Good, because you're one of the few people from high school that I hope I never lose touch with after high school."

U. - Unsuitable. My mother sat there next to me silently, cracking her knuckles, and she seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I did not want to give in so I remained silent as well. Finally, she cracked. "I� I don't want you seeing Jake ever again." I sat there in silence again but this time only because I was stunned. I hastened to blurt out a simple "Why?" and all I was met with was "He's not suitable for you. He is four and a half years older than you are and he is not Jewish. What does he want you for?" I fought back tears before leaving the house. I walked and walked for hours just like dust that flies in the wind without its own direction.

V. - Vagaries. There is no more yelling in my house; it is often silent. Dishes are washed on time without a fight, and chores are done without even being asked. The rules that have been set with the social worker do not provoke fights and we keep our appointments. We seem like a completely new family going through someone else's life.

W. - Withstand. I looked around the room slowly and yet again, I asked myself where I fit in. The response is always the same: I don't know. I don't want to be just another faceless being on this planet searching for meaning in my clich�d existence. How does a person choose that one thing that will forever define who he or she is? Perhaps it is a specific instant in a person's life that gives their entire existence the significance they have been craving. Nevertheless, how do you select that one moment and what makes it stand out from all the others that you have experienced? Is it in the way you acted or did not act? Is it in the way you spoke or in the weight of your silence? Does this moment have to exemplify perfection in every aspect and at the same time be so flawed that you will forever be learning from your mistakes? In my mind, the answer is simple: It is all these things and qualities that create the definition of who you are and sets you apart from the rest of the world. It is a moment of truth when you come to your realization.

X. - X-Ray. Do you even see me?

Y. - Yesterday. "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though they're here to stay, oh I believe in yesterday. Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be, there's a shadow hanging over me, oh yesterday came suddenly. Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say. I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday. Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play, now I need a place to hide away, oh I believe in yesterday." I believe in the beauty of yesterday.

Z. - Zenith. From time to time, I feel as though someone is looking at me through a video camera and that person is moving farther and farther, and higher and higher away from me until I become some miniscule and insignificant thing. Nevertheless, it is my turn to look down on someone in the most literal sense. Surrounded in silence, I tentatively peer out my bedroom window into the blackness of night that welcomes my gaze in the almost deserted streets below. Two a.m. on my 20th birthday and I feel old and young at the same time. Compared to the silent old woman outside on whom my gaze fell, I am the youngest woman in the world. I can almost actually feel myself reaching out to everyone around me like a rose in full bloom, surrounded by the love, care, and nurturing that I have always needed, because, I am not alone.