WELCOME

[LORRAINE MARIE REYNOLDS]

( EVERY TIME YOU COME AROUND )

( I FEEL MORE ALIVE THAN EVER )

In my life, I've always been the responsible one. The sort of 'family anchor'. It never made much sense - I was the youngest and the furthest from becoming an adult - but I understood my place and I moved along with it. It was very easy to watch things fall out of order and stand back, trying to piece together the broken parts. I took care of everyone else. That was what I knew best. My world was held together simply by holding together the worlds of others. I didn't have to think about what it would feel like for my world to crumble, simply because I had seen the worlds of so many others crumble around me that I never wanted it to happen to me. Little did I know that it was human to crumble. It couldn't be prevented - one day, it would happen. Whether or not I showed it, displayed it at the correct moment in time was on my own doing. I've finally come to realize that I am fully human, and that I have crumbled. My confusion stems from the fact that nothing so deeply negative has occurred in my life to spur this. There hasn't been some major uprooting, the walls aren't crashing down around me. I can't figure it out.

But I have narrowed it down to one possibility. The only thing that has changed in my life is Casey Nolan. Never have I had such a surge of conflicting emotions at once. It's like she's reaching inside of me, every second of every day and turning something upside down or on its side. She must be some sort of agent of chaos, the kind who simply enjoy the sweet satisfaction in torturing the souls of us lowly humans. Yes, I do believe that Casey is more than human. No human should have the power over another that she has over me. She makes me weak, she makes me strong. She angers me, she enlightens me. My smiles have never been brighter. It's as though she's a catalyst for all things intense and almost unbecoming. There's a certain conduct of humanity that I force myself to engage in, simply because its become acceptable to do so in my household. I'm not a feather in a breeze. I have a set path and I follow that path. But something about Casey makes me break out of this bound skin and scream at the top of my lungs until my throat bleeds. For as uncomfortable and awful sounding as the way she makes me feel sounds, its the most invigorating thing in the entire world. I love every second I'm with her because I finally get a glimpse of the person I could be. That I'm supposed to be.

So what does this entire monologue about crumbling have to do with Casey Nolan? Possibly because I blame her. No, blame is too negative of a word. But it sums up everything perfectly. She's opened up a new part of me and in that hidden piece, was this agonizing pain. Where does it originate? The only thing I can fathom is the one and only event that has ever left me emotionally shaken. Two years ago, when I came home from school there was a black, unmarked car parked outside our house. I didn't think much of it until afterwards - maybe one of the new neighbors got a new car. But when I went inside and found two men I didn't recognized, dressed in their formal Military garb... and my mother hunched in an arm chair with a folded American flag with my father's dog tags in her arms... I knew my life would never be the same. But even if losing my father was the single worst thing I've ever been through, I couldn't let it show. I was sixteen, but trapped in a fifty year old's body. Something in me just knew that I had to be the strong one for my mother's sake. And until now, that's the same mask I've put on every day for the past seven hundred and eighteen days.

Recently, getting closer and closer to Casey has shown me that I don't need to put a mask on any longer. She's found the key to my chest, unlocked it and is so close to my heart that it beats wildly every time I smell something like her. She's shown me that it's okay to be weak, that I don't always need to be the one to take care of others. I'm almost dreading the day the conversation about my father comes up, one intimate enough to leave me bawling in her arms. But when that day comes, I won't turn away from it. Rather, I'll realize that it was the perfect time to finally shed myself of all previous layers of toughened skin. It will be one more step toward salvation, toward freedom. I feel like a prisoner in my own body many times, one that's slowly being liberated.

Casey's a lot like my dad. I think that might be part of why I like being with her so much. She's focused, but not too much so that she loses sight of other things. She's idealistic. She's got this essence about her that pours out trust, honesty, and goodness. She makes me feel the safest I've ever felt before. Her sarcasm is rather entertaining and is never far behind a smile. Sometimes I wonder if Dad actually hand-picked her for me. I wouldn't be surprised - he'd want me to be happy, no matter who it was with. Maybe that's what's made being with her much easier. I don't feel tortured, nor do I feel like I need to hide everything. Hell, I finally got the guts to kiss her! But every day is a new page. Sometimes I wake up and think that it will be the day that I crawl right back into my shell and all this effort would have been in vain. But that feeling doesn't last long. Something deep inside me knows I'm safe with Casey. Knows that it'll be protected til death through any sort of conditions. Believe me, it's refreshing. Unfortunately for me, I'm better at putting words on a page than actually speaking them. Who knows. Maybe Guardian Angel James Reynolds will help me out and get Casey to stumble over this little blurb. Who knows. I sure as hell don't.

[LORRAINE MARIE REYNOLDS]

( THE CHEMICALS BETWEEN US )

Last night I had an awful dream. It was one of those that roused you very quickly and uncomfortably out of your nice and warm deep sleep, gave you the shakes and sweats. The kind where once you finally slipped back into sleep, it was still there waiting to take you hostage again. And the worst part? It felt way too realistic to ever discount as simply a dream. I almost don't want to write it here, because I'll be thinking about it again... but Dad always used to say the only way to overcome bad dreams was to suck them out of your mind, and writing them down was a perfect way of doing it. So I guess I can stand to be terrified once more.

It was like a movie in my mind. It started with a beginning, I swore it had a plot. I was a doctor in some African nation, doing my best to help minor and major illnesses and diseases, as best as I could. The place was completely in shambles, broken huts had been destroyed by falling jungle trees, men walked around with half limbs that had been lost in a mission for food gone badly, children clinged to life by holding makeshift cornstalk carved dolls. And here I was in this elaborate camp site, with a white robe and tens of thousands of dollars worth of equipment. I had recently been given a new task, simply because a new kind of ailment had begun to attack the people and no one had begun to work on it before. I'm not a fan of blood and guts, so this was pretty scary for me. I had to wrap myself in one of those massive sterile space-like suits, because whatever it was... we didn't know how it was transferred.

We started traveling to the place where one of the infected people were, simply because we needed to act fast. Those who were infected normally didn't last more than twenty four hours. It would be my first time coming into contact with the illness, its symptoms... everything. All there was was me, a scientist, two nurses, and a cameraman. Don't ask my why he was there. But I was in charge. When we got there, it was this teenage boy, flailing around on the ground as though he was having a seizure. When the men managed to restrain him, so I could get a good look at him... I noticed his skin was beginning to form scales. There were two large lacerations on his chest. I had no idea where to start so I sat there, and watched what happened. Once the skin formed its scales, it sort of dimpled... patches would sink into the body and form like bowls, and then explode... leaving open holes in the body. Basically, his body was eating him from the inside out.

Me being typical me.. I ran. I didn't know anything about this, I could deal with the sites constantly. So I ran as far as I could until I found a helipad, and chartered a helicopter home. I thought I was free from everything... but everytime I saw someone from home... I could see the disease on them. It was like there was half people walking around all around me. I knew it had to be all in my mind. I was going crazy. Right now I've even freaked my self out and I'm all itchy and I feel gross.

I definitely don't want to be a doctor, ever. Never ever, not in a million and a half years. No way no how. I just want this dream to go as far away from my mind as ever. I woke up in tears and I never wanted to fall asleep ever again. I felt awful. I still do. And I'm exhausted. Great combo, huh?

[LORRAINE MARIE REYNOLDS]

( IF LOVE IS A LABOR, I'LL SLAVE TIL THE END )

I'm a dork and can't close this book with an unfavorable entry. I think its bad Karma. So time for me to get sappy.

Am I loud and clear or am I breaking up?
Am I still your charm or am I just bad luck?
Are we getting closer, or are we just getting more lost?

I'll show you mine if you show me yours first
Let's compare scars I'll tell you whose is worse
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words

We live on front porches and swing life away
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand

I've been here so long; think that its time to move
The winter's so cold summer's over too soon
so let's pack our bags and settle down where palm trees grow

I've got some friends, some that I hardly know
But we've had some times I wouldn't trade for the world
We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go

We live on front porches and swing life away
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand, until you hold my hand

I'll show you mine if you show me yours first
Let's compare scars I'll tell you whose is worse
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words

We live on front porches and swing life away
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand,
Swing life away
Swing life away
Swing life away
Swing life away

I blame Casey for introducing me to angsty (angsty for me, anyway) bands... but I don't blame her for leading me to find this pretty song =]