Inspiration swells in my chest.
I see, feel, smell, taste and hear.
So I rush to translate the mood
in carefully selected words on page

A collage of verbs,
of scintillating adjectives,
etched onto the canvas.

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A PROUD MEMBER OF THE
WDC ANGEL ARMY

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"I'd hoped to read you fairy tales. I'd planned to teach you rhyme;
But now your tales are fairer and your verse eclipses mine;"

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, "I lived through this horror, I can take the next thing that comes along."...You must do the thing you think you cannot do.

If the length of this note does not discourage you from reading it, you will see how perfect the above words of wisdom are in my particular present situation.

I'm in exile, or a house arrest, which at this time is my personal metaphor for being grounded indefinitely for the sins I've committed--sins involving sex and drugs of the worst kind. I'm lucky I'm still alive. I deserve the punishment; I only hope that something good will come out of this. I also hope that this won't risk my membership in the National Honor Society, and that it won't affect my straight A grades in school.

It was the worst summer of my life. And the explosive discovery of my crime had to happen on my birthday. My Sweet Sixteen event that I so looked forward to because of . . . yes, the car, turned into an absolute nightmare. I was six hours late for my own birthday party because I was out celebrating with older kids doing--you know what. I was tripping all over the place when I got home. The sunglasses at night and the swaying gave it all away as soon as I entered the house. Horrified, my mother started crying and yelling at me. I will spare you the details.

I did not get the birthday car, but that’s not the worst consequence of my sins. Yesterday, my mother told me that she doesn’t know if she could trust me ever again. Worse, she said sometimes she hates me for what I’ve done. She constantly dwells on the reasons why I did what I did. She would not believe that I had no reason. They just happened, and she should not blame and condemn other kids because no one forced me to do the things I did. They also didn’t know that I was still fifteen when it all started. I lied about my age, which was the first time I ever lied about anything in my life. I know I did say in my WDC bio blog that I was already sixteen when I registered. It was because Yahoo required parental consent (and credit card information) for kids my age.

My father is much more forgiving, and he never condemned me for what I did. He only wants to make sure that I will be all right, and that I’ve learned a very important lesson from this experience. He thinks about the present and the future; what had happened is spilled milk. I am not hurt, and all the medical tests proved negative. That’s all he needed to hear. My parents are divorced. Mom has remarried, and somehow, she doesn’t seem to trust me to be around my stepfather anymore when she’s not home. This is so ridiculous. She keeps rubbing salt on my wound. I love her, but I wish I could be with my Dad everyday now.

Yes, I'm not allowed to go anywhere unless a family member is with me, so this weekend, my best friend and company are WDC and your Angel Army. Most of my friends are now prevented by their parents to hang around me in school. I feel as if I have contracted a horrible disease and I am shunned for it. So far, I've gotten a lot of kind support from "my friends" in WDC. If only I could feel the true warmth of their comforting hugs.

I've spent most of the day today reading and writing. WDC and the Angel Army are the best things in my life right now outside of school. I'm not allowed to be on the Internet unless it's for homework. I can no longer access my account on www.myspace.com. However, WDC is acceptable because I use a pseudonym. My parents promised that they will not try to spy on what I write on WDC. It was okay for them not to get my password; they give me that much privacy and respect. I would die if they find out that I am writing a novel about Angelica (the real name is changed for her privacy). She is my Dad's girlfriend, my friend, my confidant, and my idol. Unfortunately, we haven't heard from her for months. I miss her now, more than ever.

I am getting too emotional now, so it’s time to cut this “short” and try to compose myself. I plan on writing an essay about all this, and maybe even incorporate it in my novel somehow.

Please share this epistle to the Angel Army. I will be grateful for any advice and kind words of encouragement and inspiration you can give me. See . . . you are not only a writing friend, but also a potential personal crisis friend.

Rocky Mountain Kid
A PROUD MEMBER OF THE
WDC ANGEL ARMY