Reflection of a Shooting StarFrosty night air with sky so clearthe Stars look like new.Bright and twinkling they shine,surreal luminescence all that keepsthe soft, white worldfrom drifting into utter Despair.Their glow dances upon the frozen fabric,twisting the threads and weave.Then, as if to stave off the night,a star shoots forth from the heavens,Falling to earth in splendor magnified,and Why? And down in the lake, the suddenstar-burst of four kittens under a lid of ice,heading to the four corners of nowhere.
Nobody's HomeEre the day setsThey rise upUpon the windFlying with new grown wingsTo a place we cannot seeWe, left behind,Have but the old shellsMolted skinsOf flesh and boneNothing inside; nobody home
Depression is My HeritageDepression is My Heritage 9/21/06I've known there was something different about my family for a long time. When I was five, I had to go visit my aunt and uncle in Ohio for two weeks. At the time, I really wasn't sure what was going on, only that mommy needed some time to rest after my baby brother got back from a ten day stay at the hospital and major surgery. For years I never really understood why my mother would do things, or go to see "friends" that I never got to see. Only recently have I learned the true reason that lay behind all of these events, as well as other personalities in my mother's family.My mother's depression started in high school, and got worse in college. She didn't seek help because of the stigmas that surrounded mental illness at the time. Instead she pushed on, ignoring the occasional "spells" she would have. She made it through college, and marriage with only comparatively minor