BEHIND HER HAZEL EYES                    
Somebody once told me that you could fit your life in a shoebox and I laughed at the thought of it.  
I was the youngest of six kids and I was favored by all of my siblings beside Natalie but she is a different story.
I grew up in a abusive home I would come home to see my dad beating my Mom until she couldn’t breath or get up.
I always watched it happen wishing that I did something about it but I was about ten and what could I do. There was a time my mom came home really late. I was asleep on the couch and Natalie was on the other one.
I heard my dad get up and come down stairs; I heard the front door open and close.
Then I heard my sister Melissa yelling at my Dad to leave our mom alone but He wouldn’t. My two sisters Melissa and Felicity were with my mom when she hit the deer and that is what my dad was so mad about. I got up ran to the door and I saw him and my mom. He had my mom up against the car, choking her out. I grabbed a stick and hit him on the back hard enough to make him let go of my mom.
He and I battled for whom had control of the stick he grabbed it out of my hands and pushed me on the ground and it knocked the wind out of me. It hurt but I got used to it over the years. I got up and I saw him looking from my mom to me. He wacked me across the face hard, I tasted blood and spit it out. I looked at him and said “ you are nothing but a coward, taking your anger out on your own children. You’re pathetic and dumb. Do you not see none of us want you here, Get lost I don’t want to see your face anymore”.
He had a hurt look on his face and looked at my mom. She was cowering in a corner.
She just said “You heard her Will just don’t come back”!
From that moment on I turned from an innocent little girl to a young woman who took care of her family and became the protector.  I have been in many struggles on my life path. I had to grown up and learn to face the life that shouldn’t have been put on anyone. I protected my best friend from being rapped. I told her to run and don’t look back and she did what I said. I remember the hands around my throat and getting slammed against the walls and the blood spewing from my nose. I fought hard knowing my life was at stake. I got quite a few punches and what not at the man. He let me go after a while and I ran I found Caddie at the park, waiting for me and she was bawling her eyes out when she look and saw me. She said, “Oh My God I thought you weren’t coming back, Jaylyn and you look like hell got a hold of you”.
I hugged her and started crying she knew she couldn’t ever repay me for what happened but she took me to the bathroom and cleaned up the blood that was smeared on my face. I knew she was thankful for me.
Caddie said to me “Jaylyn, you are a fighter”
When I heard this I thought it was funny at first but as I grew older. The message became clearer. On March 13, 2008 my sisters and I went in to foster care. I was scared and I was close to my mom. I lost her then. But Natalie and I were went to our 1st foster care home together and we were there for six months but the thing was they didn’t like me but they liked Natalie. I was scared and lonely. I wanted to leave cause they treated me like I was nothing and Natalie wanted to go with me and then she had wanted to stay with our first foster parents but to then she didn’t so we left and went in to another foster home and we were there for three years and I hated them and they treated me liked dirt and they did the same with Natalie but Natalie left before I did. They treated me more like crap and I hated them even more to the point to where I started cutting, drinking, and smoking. Anything that would harm my body.  It worked for a while but then it got worst and the drinking got a lot worse. I knew I had lost my way but I finally told my old school counselor. She and my friends became the only one I could trust. Ms. Lopez helped me get out of Bert and Anne’s House. I met this crazy black girl named Tanah and her foster mom.
She was excited to have me come there. I decided her and foster Mom would do.
From the First day I moved in Tanah and I were inseparable and still are a points she and take breaks but you can’t see one of us with out the other. Tanah helped me grow in a lot of ways it’s been six months since we have known each other but it feels like years.
But that is some of my story I don’t want to keep you reading forever
For all my life I knew I was a Fighter and always will be.
I guess you can fit your life in a shoebox if you want to try I say go for it there isn’t anyone trying to stop you from trying.

Stains on the mirror.

Scars on the arm fade over time,

Scars on the heart last forever.

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When I started out writing this, I was carefree, innocent, happy.. Now, as I sit inside this dull-lit room

on the cold stone ground, I think about how my life used to be, and how much I long for things to go back

to the way they once were...

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As I looked up and glanced over towards the dresser drawer that lay open beside me, I felt a longing to it, a pull that

just wouldn't let go. After what felt like ages, I got up and looked inside...

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It was a simple razor.

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Memories came flooding back into me, it was like a tidal wave crashing down on me with full force. Memories that had been repressed for far too long. Memories of anguish, hatred, pain, and even fear.

My hand began to unsteadily reach out towards the dresser drawer. I took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from my eyebrows.

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I knew that I didn't want to head down this road. But I had no choice.

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I had already come too far to stop now.

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~His final act upon this earth was a single sentence. One final cry. It was written in his own blood and then smeared all

over the mirror.~

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'It drove me crazy, knowing that we would never be together...'

They tell me, "Your fulfillment is to be your husbands help mate"
That my goal in life is to simply help?

I'm sorry
I'll still get married, and have children,
but I will do more then just help.
Me as the over used stapler,
the poorly kept kitchen tool
is not gonna cut it for me

Instead I will be the words of Solomon
the grace of Mary
the faith of Ruth
the kiss of the beloved
I...will be...his muse
his lover

I will not be a the helper
to come when called on
and put away, to be sent back to the kitchen.

It's funny,
In a kind of sick, backwards way.

I used to be so set on everything being perfect, and I wouldn't be content with myself until I knew I tried to get it right. It's weird... The first time I was 'good,' not 'great,' I cried. Oh, what I'd do to be 'good.'

And I'm still the same...I guess.
I'd like to be perfect,
Or at least close to...
I'd like to be good at everything,
But I lack the drive that I used to manage so well.
I've stopped caring,
It's broken,
And I can't bring myself to *want * to fix it...

"Everyone goes through this,"
They say 'comfortingly.'
Maybe they go through something like this,
But not this.
They don't get it.
No one does.
Sometimes even I don't,
But the burning...
It's changing me.

I want this so bad,
And everything wants so badly to hold me back.

You know what I never understood,
Still don't,
And never will?

Why do we try harder on the things we're bad at?
In the end we'll be better...
But imagine everyone trying hard in everything we're actually good at.
We'd all be better.

Okay is less than great

Do we want a world of okay people or great people?




But it's not up to me...
So whatever

This love is like a game of  hide and seek,
Except you're always
Hiding,
And I can never find













                                                   ­                         *you.