The air is stale, Sam wrote in her notebook. She looked up, took another step, and shook her head. She touched the tip of her pen to the page again and crossed out the sentence.
Fear is more alive in the air than the actual people breathing it. I can’t tell if it is a fear of where they live, of the prison itself, or of what exists outside of the building. Maybe it’s fear of how they will continue life after they leave the stone walls of their own guilt or maybe it’s the fear that they’ll never escape it.
I love my friends and I love watching them live life and soar through accomplishments. I love so many things about them. I love how much they love me. I love what selfless friends they are. I love how generous they are. I love how hard they work and how many cool places they get to visit. I love that they run half marathons and get into Yale and the Bush school at Texas A&M. I love that they love children and are good at yoga and are beautiful and kind and smart. I love that they care about the planet and know the word of God so well. I love that they make great grades, are awesome photographers, have amazing style, and are committed to so many different things.
It’s starting to sound like I love comparing myself to my friends more than I love my friends and encourage their accomplishments, isn’t it? Continue reading →