My.Part

I typed and typed. Deleted and deleted. I just have nothing to contribute tonight. EXCEPT!

I am very...very...VERY...excited for prom.

Artists

I know I'm kind of going backwards with this, but here's something I wrote for the "Cultural Encounters" essay for english. It may spark interest, or it may not. But the music is really, really good.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Saturday night was my “cultural encounters” night. I went out to eat and came home and watched a foreign film that was actually, really great. On the way to and from Seven Moons, I listened to “Ah Odessa” by Masha Rasputina, a Russian pop singer. I tried to do some background information on this singer but there was not much to be found other than that she is quite popular, even in the U.S. I also listened to “Sunshowers” by M.I.A. or Maya Arulpragasam who is from Sri Lanka. She had a few underground singles such as “Sunshowers” and “Galang”. She finished her debut album for XL Recordings in 2004, showing off her “distinctive vocal style and quirky rapping over dancehall rhythms and instrumental tracks by platinum artists like Missy Elliot and Jay-Z” (XL: M.I.A.). I really enjoyed her style of music and when I read her bio, something she said really stood out to me.

“Because I was doing something that some people that was fresh, new and exciting, there was this idea that I was gonna bring forth a big Ten Commandments type of statement or something…But people don’t realize that I had to come from a village in Sri Lanka to get here. So the journey is about the journey itself, not just about doing music.” (XL: M.I.A.)

Reading this statement made me think about all the other underground artists out there who do not really have all of the chances others might. To become a true artist, you need to reflect on a journey you have taken, like she did, and she worked hard for where she got.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I don't know if my reflection on it made much sense, but I love what she said.

No.Subject

If we never met again,
Would you miss me?
And if I asked you to,
Would you kiss me?
Would you hold me tight,
In your arms,
And whisper in my ear,
That you loved me.

I hate it when a huge part of your life is staring you right in the face.
I hate it when a love that could get lost is sitting right next to you.
I hate it when you don't realize that you can have what you want, but you won't take it.
I hate it when you just,
can't let go of the past.
And I hate it when I'm the only one who sees it.

G.Force

SUNDAY! The day of homework. Scchhwwweeet!

I'm trying to figure out this G Force Visualization thing and it just doesn't want to work for me.

Lately, things haven't gone my way, but this is the only one that is bothering me. *growls*

Off THAT subject.

Sorry if anyone missed me Friday. Woke up all congested and crappy. Plus, I had 13 horses under my care and they were left in the pouring rain. Commn sense people! If it's pouring...Bring them in! Then you can feed them lunch. Glad I was there to save the day.

My rant for the evening. Like usual, will not spark conversation and I've got an anatomy practical to study for.

Later ya'll.

The.Way.It.Is

That's just the way it is!

Yep...

Things are what they are to be...

What they are.

(so happy...)

Challenges that are thrown at you?

Take 'em down and defeat the ultimate...(no, not ninja)

A friend told me about something today.

Gotta better chance.

Very happy.

(You're so lost aren't you?)

-f.A.r.I.s

C.P.S

Air.Soft

Nothing to rant about. Nothing to complain about.

But I have a new favorite game!

Airsoft - like paintball, but cheaper.

Played today. Got a welt on my thigh. Doesn't hurt, but Alexander the Great nailed me behind the ear with an AK 47 rifle (airsoft rifle of course). Yeah...That hurt. Then I took him out.

Running blindly into a field of bb's flyin'? Adrenaline...

I'm lovin' it.

Now to get my own gun.

f.A.r.I.s
c.P.s

(up till 4 am sunday mornin'...tired...brett, alex, russ...i love you guys)

Giving.Up

Personal/Bawl Out Post!

(You have been warned.)

It may not seem a big deal, but it is to me. Someone *no pointing* said that I gave up when things became too difficult for me. When there's something I don't understand, I push back and just give up. What this person doesn't realize is that yes, I will do that from time to time, but I go back and get the job done.

These past few days have been hard for me. It's going to be a hard month. I've got my mind on other things and I wasn't thinking today. That's the only reason I was "stupid".

I know I know. That's no excuse. But when you are on the edge, you are on the edge and there are only certain things that are constantly running through your mind.

I ask questions. They may seem like idiotic questions that I "obviously" know the answer to, but I still ask. There's nothing wrong with that. I don't say, "Hey, how do I do this? Can you do it for me?" It's more like, "I don't understand how this works, can you explain it to me." I will never ask someone to do it for me unless they're showing me how to in the first place. At least I ask for help.

If I gave up so easily. I wouldn't have my horse. I would've sold him after the first three payments of 225 dollars which, three years later is 325 dollars a month (I've payed for him all by myself, including shavings & other necessities since summer before 10th grade). I would've sold him when my first winter went by and spring rolled in. Ever work with a horse who hasn't been worked with all winter? When spring rolls in, you start all over. It's so frustrating. The bucking. The biting. The fighting against you. There is no peace. I remember trying to ride and jumping off, throwing my own tantrum. I walked away from him. Just leaving him there. I opened the gate and stopped. I turned around, put my helmet back on and re-mounted. That was one of the best rides we have ever had. (I'd go into more detail and other runs we've had but I know you want to see the end.)

It taught me something. Don't give up. Yeah, I'm tough. But I don't get going when times get tough. I stick with it and I've pulled through and I will continue to do so.

I give piano lessons to little kids and a close friend of mine. My number one pet peeve? "I can't do it!" I follow my own rules and you'll rarely find a time when I say that. That phrase is a cop-out and one of the worst excuses ever. Yes, there will be times when it is legit, but try. Really really really try. I do. If there's something I don't understand, I don't say that I can't, I say, "I don't understand. Can you explain it to me?" If my students ask me this instead of saying that they can't, I explain it and then they understand. They become more comfortable asking for help as well.

Sometimes a girl just needs to be pointed in the right direction!!!

It ticks me off when you ask a person to explain something and they get aggravated with you. Don't they make you, who doesn't understand in the first place, feel even more stupid and afraid to ask them questions again? They do that to me.

*breaths*

Okay...I'm done.

f.A.r.I.s
{c.P.s}

I have confidence in sunshine.
I have confidence in rain.
I have confidence that spring will come again.
Besides which you see, I have confidence in me!

-The Sound of Music
-" I Have Confidence"

Excuse.Me

?: whats up with you?
Madz: nothin' really
Madz: trying to find something to blog about
?: how about... aliens... and ghosts... alien ghosts.... yeah

Sorry...Don't think that'll cut it. I don't know much about either anywho! Hehehe.

Anyway, post of the night...Or day.
-----------------------------

She didn't understand it. Her...her mother...They always got along fine. But lately, something had gone completely wrong. Every week it was something new with the same fate. "I want you out of my f***in' house!"

The problem was, when she tried to leave, she couldn't. Last week she was already all packed. Just no where to go. Then when she went to leave, her mother took her out. No where special. Just a run to Wally World of course. Anything her mother said she ignored. She didn't want it to go away. She wanted to leave. She wanted a fight.

Why you ask?

Because her mother had always tried to cover it up. Like foundation over a small bump on your face. The problem is. That doesn't make the bump go away right? Then another just "pops" up and you smooth foundation over that one as well.

Look!
No blemish.

Wrong!
It's under that sheet of fakeness and it won't go away until you do something about it.

Her mother would cover up the problem. "It's over." "Let's not talk about it."

Today was the day she would sit her mother down and talk about it.

She walked up to her mother. "Can I go to a friend's?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a school night."

Watching the siloutte of her body and the end of her cigarrette sizzle in the night air, she couldn't figure it out. She thought to herself as she asked the question again. *Nothing's wrong anymore? You're not pissed?*

"It's a school night."

*I don't care. I'm not welcome.* She walks to the kitchen without a response. Her mother comes and sits down in the usual chair...Knitting.

"Please. You told me to leave."

"No, let's not talk about it."

"Fine! If we don't talk about it and it doesn't get fixed. I'll blame you." She bolted upstairs to call two of her best friends.

One who welcomed the girl into her home...
and the other who welcomed her into his heart...

-------------------------------

Eh.
Not what I expected.
Not what I wanted.
But being picky gets us in trouble.

Sorry if it's awful.

f.A.r.I.s

Just.Do.It

"How can you put so much into a relationship...and get walked all over?" He went on, across from me. Talking and eating his ice cream. My best friend.

All I could think about was how I could be so lucky. There he is. Right there in front of me. C'mon! Lay all the cards on the table. Just do it. Tell him.

He knows. I know he knows. He feels, the same way...Somewhat. Why can't I just say it! Tell him how I feel? Smile, that's it. He's your best friend. He'll understand.

But what if something goes terribly wrong? What do I do then? He told me to be honest, why can't I just...Do it.

How can you like him so much...And not do anything about it. Maybe I'm not supposed to.

The waiter drops the check. I picked it up last time. Not a likely girl thing. It wasn't a date. This isn't a date. We split it this time and get back in my car and drive to his place.

Here's my chance! He sings along to the song he wanted to show me.

Just tell him!

Just do it!

It's.Been.Awhile

Been a little..Distracted these pass couple days. I did post! Once...I know.
The subjects where people were posting were not really of my interest.
I don't want to make it sound like it doesn't matter to me...But I don't like writing about stuff I don't know about.
Don't want to seem...Ignorant you could say?
Even now I'm trying to find the right thing to post about.
The play was great.
After the play was better.
Hung out with old friends who made a new friend.
Lots of laughing.
Some spillage of water. That was interesting.

Spent this past weekend (beginning Wednesday night) with the same person.
Most of it anyway.
Not sick of him either.
He helped me realize a problem I had.

Competition.

I'm never going to compete for someone.
I told 'em that.
Spent two of my high school years doin' it.
What a waste of time.
A total waste of time.
I'm done.
Period.
If someone says, "You've got some competition now for so-and-so."
Nope, not gonna do it.
Tired of it.
It's totally not worth it.

This is an awful post.
I'll stop before I get too into...Nevermind.
Too late for that.

f.A.r.I.s
C.p.S

High.School

High School

It's a place where you figure out the basis of who you are and who you will become.
It's a place where you see who's a lasting friend and who's an acquaintance.

It changes who you were and I'm bloody glad it did.

High School changed me from a problematic junior high student, to a responsible and independent person. You may contrast with the independent part but there are many, like myself, who began paying for themselves in the beginning of their high school days. It was sophomore year when I began paying for my own clothes and all my extra stuff. Like my horse. Now today, I pay and take care of all that plus my car. Yes, I live under my family's roof and they feed me, but that's when I'm home. And I'm happy I still have that.

Going off to college they say is a big step. I want to disagree, but I can't because I have not been there just yet. It will happen soon though and I believe that I am ready for the responsibility of living "on my own". Freshman year I'll be home. Sophomore year, with Jackie. And Junior and Senior, hopefully in an apartment with Jackie, Kyle, and who ever else stumbles along. This may change, but at least I have a goal.

I'm ready.
(And I have confidence in that statement and in myself.)

Another.Time.To.Know

Chapter.Three

He sat staring out at the harvest moon. It was an odd feeling he got everytime he saw it. It left him in awe, the orange and yellow molded together adding up to a great, wonderous sight. He concentrated on it hard, bringing it down to him.

"Matthew?" The sound of his name broke his concentration and the moon appeared back in the sky. "Mattie?" There was only one person who had ever called him that. Traci Tivin, a friend since...Well, he couldn't even remember when they first met. She appeared at the top of the hill.

"Is this seat taken?"

"Does it look like someone's sitting there?" He had been pretty cold to her ever since she ditched him for jocks and cheerleading. They were like brother and sister until sixth grade. Now their friendship was on and off.

Traci sat down next to him and the blood on his hand caught her eye. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He wrapped some gauze that he had in his backpack around it. He didn't have any tape so he just folded it in itself.

"You should clean that. It'll get infected."

"What is it to you? Why don't you go worry about wether your make up matches your cheerleading outfit or something." He turned away from her not wanting to see the hurt look on her face. He knew it hurt her when he mocked her. "Besides, we're all gonna die anyway. I'm just speeding up the process with a small cut." He stood up swinging his bag over his shoulder and left Traci there...Alone.

.Afghan.

Love is fond
Love is bold
Love is gone
and Love is told.

Love is another
A sister
A brother.

Love is together

Love is apart
Love is hither
Located near the heart.

Broken,
Or whole.

--------------------------------------------------------

As the officer walked down the creaky basement stares, he felt a bit nervous, not knowing what to expect. He looked all around the basement. It was warm, not cold like he had expected. There were different bands and singers posted all over the walls. Jimi Hendrix was one posted right over a black Gibson acoustic resting on a stand, a chord hanging up next to it on top of a small amp. *I never knew he played the guitar.* He touched the headstock of the guitar and looked around at all of the other posters. Nirvana, Blink 182, Third Eye Blind, and some bands he had never heard of.

Bucka really didn't know what he was looking for. He knew that Matt was clean and wasn't into pot or any other drugs. First seventeen year old boy that he's ever met like that. Maybe that came with the officer's profession. As a cop, it's not likely that the kids who come into the station are clean.

He flipped through a small photo book seeing Matt with a few friends. A lot of them were of him and his best friend Rad who Bucka knew very well. They both were always in and out of the station. He shut the photo book and walked towards a bookcase. As he ran his fingers across the books, he felt a tug on his pants. It was Matt's younger brother Kylie.

"Sir?" The boy was about six or seven years old and looked exactly like Matt and his mother.

"Yes?" Bucka spoke lightly so Kylie didn't feel scared or uneasy.

"Are you going to find my big brother?" A tiny tear appeared from the corner of his eye. The officer knelt down on one knee in front him. Kylie looked down at his feet and gave a little sniffle.

"Yes. On one condition." This made Kylie look back up at him. "You have to help your mom. She's going through a rough time and you have to help make it easier on her. Take care of her until Matt gets back. Anytime she gets upset just give her a great big bear hug."

"Like this?" The boy smiled and flung his arms around Bucka's neck. The officer laughed.

"Just like that."

"Thank you." The boy smiled and ran off upstairs to find his mother.

Bucka used a desk for balance as he stood up. *I'm getting to old for this* He thought to himself. He continued to look for clues, rummaging through Matt's desk drawers. In one drawer was a small notebook, leather bound. He opened the notebook and saw that it was a sketch pad. There were little pencil sketches of a man that looked like Matt, but older. On the next page, there was another drawing of a young man standing with an older woman and a younger boy. They were standing in front of a grave. When he looked closer, he realized it was a scene that Matt had drawn from his father's funeral. He flipped through the pages, there were some pages ripped out, but nothing that could help Bucka out. He put the book back in the drawer and shut it. He took one more look around the room, then continued his way upstairs.

As he exited the basement and shut the door, Matt's mother walked in from the other room smiling. Kylie ran in right behind her up to Bucka. "I did exactly what you told me too! Now I have to go to bed..." Then he ran off upstairs.

His mother looked at Bucka with a tear in her eye. She smiled a thank you. "Did you find anything?"

Bucka looked down shaking his head. "Sorry miss. I didn't find anything that would've helped. I didn't realize that Matt was an artist or a musician. His sketches are amazing."

"He gets that from his father." Katherine smiled and walked over to the coffee table, picked up the two coffee mugs from early and carried them over to the sink. A long silence continued until finally Bucka walked over and picked up his hat.

"I better get back to the station. I'll let you know if anything turns up." He smiled.

"Thank you so much for coming down." They walked to the door and she opened it.

"It's my job miss." He put on his hat nodding slightly, and walked out the door. He was disappointed that he didn't find anything that would help. Then he thought about it. Rad would probably know something.

For.The.Sake.Of.Writing

(The Zoe)

happy birthday jack attack!

Yes, today is the 18th birthday of a vvveeeerrryyy close friend of mind. Ms. Jackie Legien everybody! *cheering in the background* I've known this girl since freshman year and right away we became friends. The top thing we've got in common? Our fainthful steeds. Dun dun duuuunn! Oh, and a specific teacher who bosses us around. *growls* But that's besides the point. GO BAND COUNCIL TREASURERS!

(mmmm...Coffee)

Anyway! This was just a little ditty that I decided to do as I am late for school. Stupid back. I'll be here for creative writing. I PROMISE! Party on peeps! Party on...

-f.A.r.I.s

c.p.s

Differentiation

They're all different you know. Horses I mean. You have the easy going push-button pony, and the off-the-track-thoroughbred who is totally head shy and won't let you near her. There are also the ones in the middle who can be really great and listen perfectly one day and then next *SNAP!* a bucking bronco with only running and getting you off his back on his mind. All's well that ends well. I still love them all.

-f.A.r.I.s

c.p.s

Contradiction

Ever have one of those days where it's all heading upward and then *SMASH* it comes falling apart, contradicting everything that had happened. All over one small thing. All the small things huh? One tiny thing, that actually matters to you for once, trashes everything that you've worked for to bring yourself higher and higher. Almost to the highest you've felt in a long, long time. Well...It's gone. Everything that's been bothering you just trashes your mind like you trashing your room. Speaking of that! Let's see if I can fix myself.

-----------------

Chapter.One

Officer Kacie Bucka leaned back in the black, leather office chair with a squeak. He stretched his arms back and lifted his hat to run his fingers through his hair, then placed the hat back on his head. Resting his elbow up on the arm of the chair, he rubbed his forehead. Kacie sighed softly and rocked back and forth watching the phone. Why wouldn't it ring? He looked at the clock, it was late. As soon as he thought the phone wouldn't ring, it did. He didn't want to rush and pick it up so he let it ring a couple of times, then picked it up.

"Good evening, you've reached the P..." Before he could finish, a woman cried out through the reciever.

"My son is missing! I can't find him anywhere. I've called all his friends, the school, all the places where he hangs out, and no sign of him!" She continued on an on not able to stop talking.

"Ma'am! Please calm down and tell me..."

"Tell you what! I don't know anything right now! I'm a widow with two sons and I can't find one of them! I can't believe this is happening. I don't know what I did, he didn't even say goodbye or anything!" She began to talk to herself and become hysterical."Matthew, what did I do?"

"Please calm down and breathe for a moment..." There was silence as the woman took a long deep breath. "Thank you. Now tell me. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Ummm...I don't know..." The woman took a minute to think. "The three of us - Kylie, Matthew, and I - had breakfast together this morning before I brought Matt to school. And then he called and said he was going to visit his father after school." She paused.

"Then he's probably off somewhere with his Dad." Kacie couldn't believe that after the whole time of waiting for someone to call and end the deafening silence in the office, he was stuck with a hysterical woman.

"My husband is dead!"

"Oh, sorry miss...I didn't mean to..."

"I know...Matthew was just...So close to his father." She sniffled. "By any chance, could you come over? Maybe search his room for clues or whatever you guys do." She choked out a small chuckle. "Sounds ridiculous. I won't check his room because it would be a violation of our trust code."

He let out a little laugh as well to lighten the mood. "Of course. What is your address?"

"55 Beach Street."

"I'll be right there." They both hung up and Kacie jumped into the squad car. *55 Beach Street...Isn't that where...Matt...Matt Firan.* He knew the boy that had run away. After picking Matt and his friend up in the middle of the night so many times, Bucka knew the route by heart. So many times he'd find that Matt had gotten himself in trouble. The boy had actually begun to spend time at the station helping Kacie with filing. Why didn't it register before?
Kacie walked up the paved walkway and knocked on the aqua green door. He heard a younger boy yell to his mom on the other side and saw a blonde head through the top windows. The door opened. The officer automatically placed out his hand.

"Officer Kacie Bucka at your service." When her hand touched his, he finally took a good look at her. She was about 5'8", a little shorter than him, and looked like her son. Her eyes were red and looked soar from crying.

"Katherine Firan, Matthew's mom. Please, come in." She moved to the side, gesturing with her arm fro him to enter. As Kacie did, he took off his hat so as not to be rude. He stopped and waited for Ms. Firan to shut the door and then followed her into the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink Mr. Bucka? Coffee? Tea?" She sniffled.

"Coffee would be fine thank you." He spun his hat through his fingers looking at the kitchen table, seeing a picture of Matt. He picked it up and saw it was the right kid who hung out at the office.

"Please sit." Katherine sat and put down a cup of coffee for Bucka as he sat as well, putting his hat down. There was an awkward silence as the sipped coffee. Bucka put his mug down and placed his arms on the table to twidle his thumbs, a nervous habit of his.

"I should've registered this before and told you over the phone but I didn't realize it until you told me your address."

"Realized what?" Katherine began to get excited as if Bucka was going to tell her that he found her son.

"Your son, I've brought him home many times for obvious reasons." Katherine smiled, a little embarassed. "Lately though, he's been hanging around the office with me, helping me file."

"He's always been interested in police work. Totally obsessed with Cops." She smiled again then sipped her coffee.

There was another awkward pause until the officer stood up. With this, Katherine stood as well.

"So where is Matt's room?"

Katherine pointed to a door under the stairs that led downstairs. "He moved into the basement. His father and he fixed it up nicely."

The officer walked over to it and opened the door and looked down at the small set of stairs that led down. He flicked on the lights and headed down to Matt's room.

Confidence

I talked a lot about my self-confidence yesterday. I think one step I need to take is to have confidence in my work. So here it is! One thing I know that is good and that I have confidence in.
-----------------------

A low, full howl sounded in the thick evening air. The moon's reflection sparkled off the still lake.A young man stared at the reflection in the water, pondering over how he was still alive. His beautiful blue eyes watered again and a tear came down his cheek; he blinked, and the tear fell. Looking up at the moon, he saw the face of the man he mourned, A man he once knew as his father. He could only think about one thing; *If it wasn't for this mouth of mine, you wouldn't be dead.*
He dropped to his knees as he began to cry once more. He couldn't remember the last time his eyes were dry. He knew he didn't deserve to live till his eighteenth birthday. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't. Drawing his fingers across the engraved letters, he read the name of his father. David Michael Firn. Jan 1957-Dec 2001; Loving Husband to Catherine; Loving Father to Matt & Kylie.
*If I hadn't yelled...* The pain of what had happened was too much for him to bear. He had to be strong and not cry. Even if he knew it was alright. *I'm sorry...* Taking out his father's leatherman, he flipped out the sharpened blade. Resting the knife against the soft skin of his palm, he paused. "I love you...", he whispered. With that, he sliced a line across his skin and grabbed the blade. His blood seeped through his fingers and dripped onto the leaves below. Shocked slightly, he opened his hands and let the knife fall. Then he ran...

--------------------------------------------

Yes, grammar is horrible. But I trust that it is good (over used word! yay!).

-f.A.r.I.s

~*C.P.S*~

----holes...

Why do people say things trying to be funny, but it makes them look like an ---hole? Seriously. Knowing this statement is hypocritical an all but, think before you speak people. Especially if you're an adult and don't know anything about...Anything for that matter. It's just a thought. Someone said something to me that I took as a total insult. Joking or not, it should not have been said. Definately not by a so-called role model. It wasn't the first time either.

That was my rant for the evening.

Dirt flying, hearts pounding, sweat dripping. Spin Spin Spin! Crowd cheers. "Touch his ears!" Run home. Timer goes off. Fifteen seconds without breath. A pat on the neck. A day spent worrying for one run. One run that lasts fifteen seconds. One run that your life depends upon.

(The Matthew Firan Story *UPDATED* Chapter 3 & 4)

She's.Not.Crazy

Have you ever felt that feeling? The feeling that so few feel when they are with a specific group of people or just one person. A feeling of being...Themselves. So many people change the way they are depending on who they are with. I look at myself as an example. Some hate it when they hang out with a person who totally changes when they are with someone else. They think their friend is trying to be cool and be the big kid on campus. If you think about it though. Maybe they are so-called "fake" when they are around you. Maybe this person can be "themselves" around certain people. You can change your personality or your attitude. But that doesn't change who you are. I can be quiet and put myself down when I'm with some. I can be obnoxious and loud with others. And then there are the few who I am right in the middle and can be my "so-called" self. Who are we really?

-------------------------------

She sat, alone.
Walls of white surrounding her.
She wasn't crazy.
She couldn't be.
Yes, her mother's a drunk and her father...Well...
She's not crazy!
Oh no,
Here come the tears.
They don't stop.
They'll never stop.
She holds her knees close,
Rocking back and foth.
Why won't they stop!
She panics and screams for help.
Two women are walking in.
They grab her.
Don't hurt her.
One has a needle.
No!
Let her be!
The girl cries out again.

"No!" I sat up quickly in my bed. Sweat dripping from my brow. What had just happened?

.Falling.

"I'm afriad that if I end it, I'll hurt myself. It's like jumping out of an airplane when your instructor has just said, 'I may have not put the parachute in your back pack', and blindfolded you. I could jump and the parachute will be there and I'll be okay. Or I'll jump and fall to my death. So why bother jumping."

"There's a big difference between jumping out of an airplane and this. You have to take a chance."

"That's the thing, I'm afraid to take the chance. I don't want to fall again."

She thought to herself, *Yeah...But I'll be there to catch you.*
-------------

The witch has spoken.