Journey-al

Screenplay: Amos

“Amos”

Sophie Grimaud

*NOTE before reading: This is awkwardly pasted because of the WordPress formatting. It’s not in exact screenplay formatting as it should be, but this is as close as I could get!

INT. NURSING HOME – DAY

ENTER into a large room in a nursing home. We see old people MEANDERING, a few nurses weave between. A luau event is about to begin. Cheap decorations are strewn around the room, with punch and store bought cupcakes.

A man begins to play MUSIC on a ukulele. Some of the old people begin dancing.

An old lady, EDNA, in a plastic hula skirt approaches AMOS, an old man sitting alone at a table. She shuffles up, dancing as she comes.

EDNA:

What are you doing sitting here? It’s party time. Come dance with me!

Amos looks up, DAZED, at Edna. HESITANTLY, he takes the already again swaying woman’s hand. She doesn’t pause her dancing as Amos slowly stands and takes her other hand.

AMOS:

Sorry what is your name?

EDNA:

I’m Edna, Amos. You’re going nutty all over again.

AMOS begins dancing with Edna JERKILY and strained, his movements uncoordinated. Edna is energetically dancing, not minding Amos’ jerkiness. Amos seems to have a little bit of fun for a moment, but then his demeanor changes. He looks lost and confused.

The SCENE SKIPS.

MUSIC FADES AND CHANGES.

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

In a 50s-style living room, Frank Sinatra is playing on a record player. Laughter fills the room, and the atmosphere is lighter. Sunlight fills the room from open windows.

A much younger Amos dances with a woman his age. She is smiling, the source of the laughter in the room. He smiles and dances with her, smooth and coordinated- the opposite of the old man in the nursing home. PEGGY swings back, and then twirls toward Amos. Caught up in looking at her, Amos steps on her foot.

PEGGY:

Amos! You’ve gone and stepped on my foot!

Peggy smiles and stops dancing to kiss Amos on the nose as he grins sheepishly.

The scene cuts out again, back to the —

NURSING HOME

—

where Amos is standing frozen, a glazed look on his face. Edna is looking at him, exasperated. She lets go of his hand and moves on to find another dance partner. A kind faced NURSE gently leads Amos back to his table, where he stares ahead absently.

INT. NURSING HOME BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING

Amos JERKS awake, sweating from some dream.

We can see a nursing home bedroom, with little decoration except for a few picture frames of Amos and Peggy, and a smaller boy, whose pictures eventually change into that of a young man.

Amos pants. He looks DISORIENTED and groggy. He reaches a SHAKY HAND across the bed to meet open air. The bed is not big enough to fit two people comfortably. A glimmer of clarity comes into his eyes.

AMOS:

She should be here. She comes on Wednesdays. It was Wednesday yesterday. She should have visited.

Amos slides back the sheets and his feet make contact with the ground. He puts on his clothes. It takes a while to button up his shirt; his hands are SHAKING.

AMOS:

Need new shoes. Scuffed ‘em.

Amos walks out of his room. Two nurses are talking, but their backs are turned. Amos treads quietly past them, with a surprising amount of AWARENESS. He reaches the end of the hallway leading into the common room and peers around the corner. The door out of the common room has a keypad. The room is empty of residents.

AMOS:

Hmph.

Amos waits, watching the door. From another hallway, a nurse in a hurry emerges, bustling toward the door out. She glances around quickly, but Amos has already ducked his head back into the hallway.

The sound of a DOOR OPENING.

Amos waits a heartbeat and then runs, as best he can, through the —

COMMON ROOM

—

toward that door. He almost doesn’t make it. His hand pushes against the wood just before it could click shut. He pushes the wood gently, and then peers out. The corridor to the outside door is empty. He strolls out.

INT. NURSING HOME BEDROOM – MORNING

The kind faced nurse pushes the door open, and does a double-take. She looks CONCERNED, but not panicked. She pokes her head into the small bathroom attached to the room, which is empty. She walks briskly out of the room, down the hall, and into the–

COMMON ROOM

—

She finds Edna and an assortment of residents eating or watching television, but no Amos.

Now there is a trace of PANIC on the nurse’s face, as she rushes toward a phone on the wall. We can make out parts of what she is saying over the television and Edna talking animatedly to her subjects, who are chattering back, or half-watching with glazed eyes. Edna continues talking, but watches out of the corner of her eyes.

NURSE:

Missing. Yes. Yes. No. I’ll check.

The nurse jogs off to check the other resident’s rooms.

EXT. BUS STOP – MORNING

The scene CUTS to a bus and the sound of BRAKING. A door HISSES open.

Worn brown shoes and tan slacks climb the stairs of the bus, and tread slowly to a seat on the–

BUS

—

Amos sits, and looks around. A little GIRL sitting a few seats ahead peers CURIOUSLY at Amos from around the seat. She has brown hair and a colorful plastic headband. A lollipop stick is protruding from the side of her mouth.

She gives Amos a SHY smile, which he returns. The lines around his eyes crinkle. The girl’s mother, who is sitting beside her, pulls the girl back from her position peeping into the aisle and turns back to smile apologetically at Amos. He smiles timidly, and watches the girl pull out a coloring book and begin to draw in crayon.

SCENE SWITCHES QUICKLY.

INT BUS – EVENING

A bus much more full of people replaces the near empty bus with the lollipop girl and her mother. Small talk and laughter replaces the quiet and sound of the bus on the road. Here people talk over it.

A smooth hand grabs Amos’s arm, and a wistful face with bright brown eyes SMILES up at him. Peggy squeezes his arm, nearly bouncing up and down as she looks at what has her EXCITED. A little girl at the front of the bus is playing some sort of invented rhyme game with a girl across the bus aisle.

PEGGY:

Aren’t they just adorable? Oh Amos, let’s have… ten!

AMOS:

Ten?!

Amos’ voice is both amused and partially alarmed.

PEGGY:
Yes, ten! They can dance around the house and make a mess of things, and draw on all the walls, and we can repaint them together every week. You like painting the walls. Maybe we’ll let them help fix it some, and then repaint over it when they make a mess of that too.

Amos:

Do these little miscreants have names?

PEGGY:

Oh YES! Claire, Julie, Jennifer- Jenny for short-

AMOS:

What about a boy?

PEGGY:

Oh a boy! Oh how I would love a little boy Amos.

Peggy’s face is filled with excitement and anticipation.

PEGGY:

He would terrorize his sisters, but secretly they’d love it. How about Paul?

AMOS:

Paul is perfect. I think I would like the little girls though.

PEGGY:

Oh I know, but you’d be hopeless. You wouldn’t be able to say no once to them! They’d be spoiled rotten.

Young Amos SMILES sheepishly and pulls Peggy closer to him on the bus. His smile fades, as the people on the bus and finally Peggy fade as well.

INT. BUS – DAY

When Peggy fades, Amos is alone on the bus. It hisses to a stop and the doors open. Amos shuffles off.

EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD – DAY

Amos strolls through the neighborhood with ease. The familiar environment brings a bit more clarity to his facial expression. He stops to pick a few flowers from a yard.

AMOS:

Busibody. I’m going to get scolded but she’ll think it’s funny. Can’t very well pick our flowers without getting my head bit off, anyways.

He continues to walk for a while. Finally Amos turns down a street of cookie-cutter houses with neatly trimmed lawns. He comes to a house nearing a coledesac, and stops in the driveway. He looks up at the house. He smiles and heaves a sigh of relief.

Amos walks up to the door and looks for something.

AMOS:

She must have gotten rid of the mat. That’s a shame, it was a nice doormat. No place here to hide the spare key now.

Amos tries the doorknob, but it is locked. He seems to have expected this, and nods to himself, but he doesn’t look concerned. He walks assuredly around the side of the house into the backyard.

He pauses a moment when he sees the empty flowerbeds. A hint of UNEASE crosses his face, but he quickly brushes it off.

He moves confidently towards the backdoor. He slides it open, although there is some resistance.

AMOS:

I should have fixed that lock for her before I left. Oh well, it helped me out this time. Always misplacing that spare key. Some buildup in the door track too. Maybe I’ll fix that too.

Amos smiles to himself and shakes his head. He takes a few steps into the —

HOUSE

—

Amos looks as though he has been SLAPPED across the face. He takes a stumbling step back. The flowers DROP to the ground.

Toys litter the floor and furniture is strewn about the combined dining area and kitchen haphazardly.

Amos stares around, looking small and CONFUSED. He begins to meander around in a disoriented fashion. There are pictures on the walls. They have a middle aged woman and three children in them. An older boy and two little girls. There are pictures of them laughing and playing together. Some of the older pictures show a large yellowish dog too.

Tears fill Amos’ eyes but he blinks them away.

The —

LIVING ROOM

—

has a worn couch in it. A few children’s books are sitting on a side table, and there is a doll on the floor and the couch. GENTLY, Amos picks up the doll and stares at it. He sits on the couch, holding that doll.

The scene DARKENS.

INT. HOUSE LIVING ROOM

TALKING fills the silence and dark. The door to the house, in a small entryway next to the living room, swings open. The muffled talking becomes clear. Amos jerks awake, confused and startled. He looks at the time on his watch.

AMOS:

Early, she shouldn’t be off work.

A young GIRL, from the photos, walks in, her nose in a book as she walks. She comes into the living room. She glances up from her book and freezes, staring in surprise at Amos. Amos stares back, in SHOCK. Her BROTHER comes in behind her and jumps in surprise. He grabs the girl’s arm and YELLS

BOY:

MOMMMM!

A woman in her late thirties comes careening into the room. She puts a hand to her mouth at the sight of Amos, then JUMPS into action and pushes both children behind her. Not taking her eyes off of Amos, she says to the boy behind her

WOMAN:

Jake go call the police. 911. Tell them a stranger is in the house, answer all of their questions.

The boy is looking at his mother with wide eyes. She glances back and hisses

WOMAN:

Now!

Jake STARTS and backs away. We hear footsteps running and a phone being picked up. Jake begins talking to the police.

A SMALLER GIRL has come up behind the woman, looking frightened. The girl with the book pulls her close and wraps an arm around her, trying to look a little brave.

WOMAN:

Who are you and why are you in my house?

Amos still looks confused and startled. His gaze jerks from the little girls to their mother, who is now glaring at him, a mother bear preparing to fight for her cubs.

AMOS:

I- I- This is, I am- I live here.

He looks at a loss for words, his eyes on the woman both confused and pleading. The woman looks a little surprised at the answer, but is still WARY. She SCANS Amos, taking in the old man’s confusion and nervous state.

WOMAN:

How did you get in here? When did you get here?

AMOS:

I- I needed to see Peggy. She was supposed to visit. It was a Wednesday.

He said all of this PLEADINGLY, looking at the woman as though she should understand that one does not miss a Wednesday appointment.

WOMAN:

How did you get in here?

AMOS:

She’s always losing the spare key. I keep telling her to just put it back under the mat when she’s done but now she’s gone and lost that too. That’s why I’ve never fixed that broken back lock. She’ll just lose the spare key again and then how will I get in?

The woman seems to relax just a little bit, a hint of UNDERSTANDING finally dawning in her eyes.

WOMAN:

What is your name?

AMOS:

Amos. I live here.

WOMAN:

Amos.

She nods, then looks at Amos. She drops her arms shielding the girls, and turns to WHISPER something to them. They scatter off in the direction of their brother. Finally, the woman turns around and looks DIRECTLY at Amos.

WOMAN:

Well Amos, I bought this house a little over a year ago. I can assure you that you haven’t lived here in at least a year, and I didn’t buy this house from you. What’s your last name?

Amos looks very LOST. He stares past the woman, while he answers in a small voice

AMOS:

Garcia.

The woman nods again, and breathes a sigh.

WOMAN:

I believe I bought this house from your son? Paul?

Amos doesn’t answer, but a shadow crosses his face. He frowns. After a few moments of silence, a SIREN can be heard in the distance. Amos just stares past the woman. The siren grows louder and LOUDER, then stops. An urgent knock sounds on the door, followed by

POLICEMAN:

Cambridge Police Department, open up!

The woman looks at Amos, and in a commanding voice says

WOMAN:

Stay here.

The woman goes to the door and opens it. She holds up a hand and speaks in a HUSHED TONE to the police officer for a few moments. After listening for a few moments to something the POLICEMAN says, she allows two police officers to step into the entryway. They look into the living room at Amos, who is not even paying attention to them at all. He stares into space.

The woman and the police officer beside her exchange a pitying glance. The POLICEWOMAN who just exchanged glances with the woman steps in front of her partner, and approaches Amos. She kneels in front of Amos and looks into his face.

POLICEWOMAN:

Mr. Garcia, I’m going to need you to come with me.

Amos’ eyes clear a little bit. He seems to NOTICE for the first time the policewoman in front of him.

AMOS:

What?

The policewoman reaches a hand out and GENTLY leads Amos to stand. She puts an arm around him, and he haltingly walks with her.

POLICEWOMAN:

We need to take a walk okay Mr. Garcia? These kids have some homework they need to do and we can’t distract them here.

Amos follows her lead, looking disoriented as they head out the door and down the porch steps. A police car is parked on the curb of the street. Amos looks back at the house. The other POLICEMAN says something to the woman, who nods and shakes his hand before he heads out the door, closing it behind him. Before the door closes, the woman’s eyes meet Amos’ and she smiles SADLY.

AMOS:

No.

POLICEWOMAN:

Come on Mr. Garcia, it’s time to go home. People are very worried about you.

AMOS:

This is my home! I will not leave it! This is my home, I have to wait, Peggy isn’t home from work yet. She didn’t come on Wednesday. Something is wrong, she always comes on Wednesday.

Amos, now agitated, tries to twist out of the policewoman’s grip, but she tightens her hold. And nods to her partner behind them. He comes over, and opens the door to the back of the police car. She pulls Amos as gently as possible towards the door.

POLICEWOMAN:

Mr. Garcia, you can’t stay here, you don’t live here anymore. Someone else lives here now.

Amos slumps, and the policewoman guides him into the back of the car gently.

POLICEWOMAN:

We’re going to take you home now, Mr. Garcia. We’ll be there soon.

INT. POLICE CAR – EVENING

The police officers start talking quietly in the front of the vehicle.

TEARS slide down Amos’ face.

EXT. NURSING HOME – EVENING

The policewoman escorts Amos back into the nursing home, where very relieved nurses usher Amos back into the —

INT. NURSING HOME COMMON ROOM

—

The kind faced nurse is in the nursing room with some of the other residents. Edna sits in the corner of the room, her animated chatter PAUSING at Amos being led into the room. Her sharp eyes WATCH him enter with a couple of nurses. Some of the residents wave, a few recognizing Amos. He stares at them, disgruntled and CONFUSED. Edna continues to watch. Her usual flippant or unconcerned facial expression is more GUARDED and watchful. She seems to be WARY of what will come next.

The kind faced nurse looks extremely relieved to see Amos. She approaches and appears to be about to tell Amos off, but stops when she sees Amos’s red, puffy eyes. Amos looks at her, agitated and becoming angry.

AMOS:

Take me back now.

NURSE:

Amos. You know-

AMOS:
TAKE ME BACK NOW!

The other residents are now also watching. Only a few of the residents with foggier eyes stare into space, ignorant of the encounter. The nurse opens her mouth but Amos interrupts again.

AMOS:
Where is she?

NURSE:
Where is who Amos?

AMOS:

Where is she? She wasn’t at home. They wouldn’t let me wait for her to come back from work, but she didn’t come.

Although Amos’ body language reflects anger, his eyes again fill with tears. He looks at the nurse pleadingly and in a QUIETER voice says

AMOS:

It was a Wednesday.

The nurse looks heartbroken for Amos.

AMOS:

WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS PEGGY?

The nurse’s own eyes tear up a bit as she looks at Amos in his state of confusion, and anger.

NURSE:

Amos, Peggy hasn’t come for a long time.

Amos’ shoulders cave in. The nurse guides him to a nearby cushioned chair. He slumps into it, looking DEFEATED.

AMOS:

She wasn’t home.

The nurse sits in front of Amos and says in a heartbroken voice

NURSE:

Amos, Peggy died a year ago. I’m so sorry.

Amos shakes his head, again looking confused. A tear falls down his cheek. Very softly, Amos says

AMOS:

She was here last week.

Edna, still quiet, shakes her head to herself sadly.

The SCENE FADES as the nurse takes and squeezes Amos’ hand. He stares EMPTILY ahead.

Women don’t have the comfort of security.

We live in a fallen world. With sin came the warping of relationships, and humans who prey on and damage each other, which we can see as early as Cain and Abel. Humans have hurt and twisted their relationship with God, and so we all suffer because in turn our relationships with each other also become twisted and changed. We have sin and hate in our hearts, and it sometimes manifests in pain and damage inflicted on others. In this broken world, people are hurting and being hurt. The good news is that this isn’t our true home. The bad news is that we’re here in the meantime and we have to live in it.

With all of the injustice being revealed right now, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting. In addition to racial injustice, I’ve thought a lot about gender inequality. I’ve been grappling with the questions, “Why are women targeted so much? How has it also become normal for women to feel unsafe?” Something that has always stuck with me, was a sermon by Alex Seeley, from The Belonging Co, where she said something along the lines of: I believe Satan hates women a little extra. She pointed out that in Genesis, God (who is speaking to the snake Satan) says, “And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.” If you did not know, the google definition of enmity is “the state or feeling of being actively opposed or hostile to someone or something.” God gave name to the active opposition between Satan and women, who are givers of life to new image bearers of God.

Satan has it out for women a little extra. And I think we can see that clearly in the world right now.

I wanted to write this piece in response to what I’ve experienced and seen posted recently, but in reality, this is not something new to me (or any women for that matter). Feeling unsafe and threatened in any public place is something I’ve grown up used to. One of my earliest memories is my mother being told by the owner of a store she was not allowed to leave until she bought something. She had to call my dad for help, and I’m so thankful he was able to come quickly. I can’t remember the entire scenario, but the anxiety and fear present was palpable enough to stick with me even from the age of 4 years old. A woman with a child was not allowed to leave a store on her own, and was being bullied and threatened into making a purchase, but once her husband was there, the man backed down and let them leave with no trouble. That’s insane to me.

I had many, many talks with my parents about how I had to be careful in public places, stay alert, and stay together with friends before I was allowed to visit a mall without an adult. I was warned not to go anywhere without at least three girls, so that when someone had to use the restroom, the girl waiting outside wasn’t alone. We are taught to carry something in our car to defend ourselves, to use our key as a weapon, and to be wary of strangers. This is all necessary, considering the present dangers of human trafficking and rape. I’ve seen many posts recently raising awareness for women being targeted, and I wanted to share some experiences and thoughts, to hopefully make this more real for people who don’t understand it.

Some of the creepiest experiences I’ve had happened to me when I was in a public place people consider safe- in broad daylight. One of these experiences was in a gas station, with people present at every single pump. I noticed a man who looked like he was in his late twenties watching me from across the station. He didn’t even have a car there, he was just leaning against the wall with some friends. He approached me and tried to make conversation with me, and then called me “really pretty,” and then asked if I was still in high school. I said yes, and he just said “oh” and walked away, but kept watching me. First of all, I have no problem with a guy asking for my number in a safe environment, when I’m talking to them and I’m comfortable. No one starts conversations with a girl trying to pump gas alone, even if her little brother is still in the car. The entire time I felt so uncomfortable and grossed out. I refused to acknowledge him after he was done talking to me, but I could feel his disgusting stare. What made me feel more secure was the young man pumping gas beside me, who observed the encounter and asked if I was okay. He finished pumping his gas, but stayed longer than he had to in his car, until I got in mine. I noticed and appreciated it.

The most recent experience I had with feeling unsafe in a public environment was in downtown Columbia, while taking some pictures with girlfriends. You may be thinking, “oh well okay, but downtown cities are dangerous normally, for more people than just women.” And that’s true. But we weren’t in a dangerous area. We were in the most popular area to walk around and eat, and it wasn’t dark. If you live near Columbia, maybe you’ll know what I’m talking about when I say the parking lot by Mellow Mushroom on Gervais Street. Maybe you won’t and that’s fine. There’s a huge parking lot, right by a stoplight that has a large wall with a mural on it. As we were taking pictures by the mural, I noticed two men sitting on a bench about 200 feet away watching us. I was nervous about them being there at all, but wasn’t overly concerned because I knew there were plenty of people around. We took some photographs, and about 5 minutes into it, I noticed they were standing and taking pictures of us. I was so incredibly disgusted and uneasy, I immediately pointed it out to my friends and we left for our own safety.

I wanted to go over and smash their phones into the ground.

I hated that I had to be smart in the moment and get away instead of addressing them and defending my friends and I. I should have the ability to control when someone is taking pictures of me, and I should have the right to tell someone how I feel without fearing for my life.

We (women) are trained to see the people around us as threats, because in reality we don’t know when one could be. I’m the most unobservant person ever, but when I’m alone or with a group of only girls, I snap into a hyper aware state that would never come naturally to me. I’m always thinking of a way to escape a bad scenario, how I would protect my girlfriends, and which person walking past me might try to pull something on me. I become someone analytical and watchful, someone who views people as weapons instead of as brothers and sisters. The worst part of this is that my wariness is probably the best way to keep me safe. It’s my natural reaction to the existent threats posed by humanity and the people who take advantage of women. At a time when I’m trying to teach myself to give the people around me the benefit of the doubt, I’m at war over this in my head. I hate that we need to be guarded.

Unfortunately, we do.

To the women reading this: Research!!! You need to be prepared to defend yourself. Self defense classes are great, but there’s also plenty of information online. Know how to read the people or room around you for warning signs. If you feel uncomfortable, trust your gut. You do not owe a stranger anything when you feel endangered or threatened. Protect yourself first. Learn how to appear assertive and confident- predators or attackers are looking for an easy target. If you look like you’d put up a fight or know what to do when attacked, you’re less likely to be chosen as a victim. Make sure someone always knows where you are, avoid traveling alone in the dark, and stay alert and off your phone. Being on your phone actually signals you’re distracted rather than able to contact someone quickly. Please make smart choices. Don’t go drink and not have people looking out for you. For more information, you can start at this link.

To the Men: 1. Please, please, please stick up for women. If you see a woman who looks scared or in an unsafe situation because of someone else, check on her. Ask her if she’s okay! Also, let’s keep in mind that women have to be on alert, so don’t try to ask for someone’s number at a gas station out of nowhere or stare someone down. It’s not cute. It’s weird and it freaks us out. Places like a coffee shop, or a line somewhere while having a conversation are good places to ask for a number. Somewhere a person would feel safe and secure. If they say no, respect that and move on. I feel ridiculous explaining that because I thought it was common sense, but there’s a time and place for everything, and these women do not owe you anything. You are not entitled to their information, just respect them. 2. Check on the women in your life and listen to their stories. Learn from them. Right now, I think we’re learning more than ever to grow by having empathy for each other, and it’s beautiful. Keep that in mind, and please aid women being threatened or targeted. Also there’s a lot more to gender inequality than violence and abuse, so if you want to help, there’s plenty of articles out there about how men can be advocates for gender equality. For more information, here’s a link.

That’s it : ) Thank you for the read.

Self Reflection Prompts Growth

Recently I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my own habits and personality. I know personality tests are knocked a lot, and I agree, they should not be an excuse for anything- ever. You shouldn’t live your life based on what tests someone made tell you, but they can be used as tools to help you understand yourself and those around you. Enneagram has been a tool that has helped me be more understanding of my friends and family, and aided the relationship between my parents and I. Through this, I’ve been able to recognize when I mess up, and consider how others might be feeling when I charge ahead.

My number for Enneagram is an eight. This means I’m a challenger, leader, and a “go-getter.” I’ve learned I make decisions based more on doing and thinking rather than on feelings, and that this is hard for people to understand sometimes. I react based on gut feelings, and I trust my gut 100%. I also charge ahead once I get an idea or goal into my head, which is great because I’m a huge motivator for both myself and others. On the flip side, this also makes me a bulldozer… I give a lot of attention to my projects and ideas, and I naturally feel free to do whatever I need or want to. Even this week, it was pointed out to me that a combination of these qualities was hurtful to those around me. I’ll elaborate.

For about two months now, I’ve been planning a trip to Canada with a few friends over spring break. I knew the dates were April 10-13, but I didn’t realize this was Easter weekend. So my friends and I had already set the dates pretty much in stone, and I had to break the news to my parents that the trip was over Easter. I think my Dad was pretty hurt. For our family, Easter is a fairly big deal and missing it isn’t something that’s done. That would be like deciding to go hang out with my friends on Christmas instead of spending that time with my family. While I waited anxiously for my parents to decide if I could go or not, my Dad looked into the core fears and motivations of both his type (2) and mine (8). He brought up that I didn’t like being controlled, and that he was sentimental. And so while he wished I could be there for Easter, he didn’t want me to feel controlled, and decided I could make the choice. By plowing ahead and not taking time to plan more carefully, I hurt my dad’s feelings.

I’m learning to be more intentional in how I plan for the future and treat others. I’m not always aware of how my actions affect others, but I’m learning. This is why I think it’s important to make use of tools that come available to you. Using new resources and information to reflect on your lifestyle and self is a vital part of growth. And this isn’t just for teens like me, I think self reflection is crucial to all stages of life- no matter how old you are, you never have to stop learning.

I want to protect you.

I want to hug you and protect you from yourself.

I wish I could wrap myself around people and protect them from darkness. I wish that everyone could see themselves the way I see them. I wish that everyone would be okay, and that everyone would love themselves. But that’s not how that works.

I’ve learned a lot about myself recently. I’ve learned I’m a challenger- someone who wants justice and needs to understand what’s going on to be on board. But I’ve also learned I’m a fierce protector. I fight tooth and nail to keep the very few people in my inner circle safe. I’ve learned I feel intensely. When I feel strongly about something, it almost hurts because I feel it with a passion so strong it fills my entire frame. And what I feel the most strongly about is people.

It hurts a lot sometimes to sit and think about how I can do nothing to help people in pain. So much that I can sink into it and be stuck in just how thick and oppressive that feeling is. I drown in it for a while, and it makes me cry. I want my friends to know their worth and that they mean the world to me and when they can’t, I’m in agony. I don’t hate much, but I do hate that.

I’m not afraid of what my friends deal with. It doesn’t scare me, and I am not ashamed. I wish you could see that it does not define you. Letting me know does not make it my project. In fact, letting me know, letting me in, is the one way to make me feel more safe around you.

I’m not afraid of what my friends deal with. But I’m terrified to let them in. I’m scared to be weak and vulnerable.

I went to go see a play recently, and I had listened to the songs a million times. But as I was sitting in the high school multi purpose room, listening to “There are Worse Things I Could Do” from Grease, I almost started crying. Which made me angry immediately, but only because I related so strongly to the line: “But to cry in front of you, that’s the worst thing I could do.”

I’ve come to realize being open with others means letting them see the raw parts of you- the parts that aren’t polished, the ones that haven’t finished developing. It means letting the people you trust see you broken and sobbing on the floor. Oh no, not the sweet little tears appropriate for church camp either. The messy kind where snot is coming out of your nose, your body is shaking, and every breath in makes a rasping sound. When you’re crying so hard you’re hyperventilating and it hurts to breathe and to feel and to be alive because you feel everything so so so strongly.

Being able to let someone see that hot mess, that means letting someone protect you for a change. It is the hardest thing in the world and I keep getting hurt and many times I just want to put up the walls and not talk to anyone ever because actually, that would be much easier. I’ve done it before. But I missed out on so much. I missed feeling things and sharing those passionate feelings with people I care about.

The problem is that I feel everything I care about so much that it’s hard to stop protecting everything and everyone for just a moment to let someone hold me. But I need to. I need to let someone just wrap their arms around the little girl curled up in a ball sobbing on the ground. I need to let them hold her tightly and tell her it’ll be okay, and that they love her even though she can’t always protect them.

Because I can’t protect you from yourself. And that hurts.