Image of a sunset over water overlaid by wings

Why am I burning up, even though I haven’t even had a fire set me to ashes yet? I can’t be crying over the smallest of things, having no motivation to do anything other than nothing.

Why am I sobbing in my room at random times of the day? Aren’t the other people in my life doing so much more and yet succeeding? Where did all my talent from years past go?

And yet, I can’t help with tears streaking down my face, staring at my reflection in my mirror. After all, did I really expect that I would ever have it easy? If I’m not struggling with outside forces, my mind will create its own struggles.

I’m crying over having to do the things I love, and even seeing the people I love. I’m always either flying higher into the sky like Icarus, high on the new feelings before eventually crashing into the ocean below. I’ve never been Daedulus, wise and patient, no matter how hard I try. I’ve tried changing myself again and again to try to save myself, and yet, it seems as if I’m fated to always be the side character who dies in the story.

Flying higher into the sky, then plunging back to the ground at deadly speeds as the sun burns my wings. I fall onto the ground and cry out in pain, then stand up and take off, only to repeat the process again. It’s a cycle of pain, and I don’t know how to escape.

The Seven Husbands Of Evelyn Hugo


The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid is a brilliantly written novel, published on June 13, 2017.


The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo follows the main character, Monique Grant, a seemingly random reporter who has been picked to do an interview with The Famous Evelyn Hugo, who lived one of the most successful careers in Hollywood. This comes as a shock to the world as up until now, Evelyn had been hiding from the public eye for years.

She starts off with her history, and how she became Evelyn Hugo. Then, she tells Monique about having to be cunning to survive in Hollywood. She talks about her relationships, and about how all of her seven husbands played a part in her life. Monique quickly finds out that Evelyn’s life was full of scandalous secrets, strategically kept from the public eye.

And as Evelyn’s story becomes more twisted and complicated, Monique also finds out about a secret relationship that no one would ever have thought that The Evelyn Hugo would be part of, and she finds out that Evelyn Hugo has cunningly tricked the public many times. But, Monique also finds just as in everything else in Evelyn’s life, she had a calculated reason for picking Monique to be her reporter.


I absolutely love this book. It is enthralling and once you pick it up, you can’t put it down. There are twists in every chapter and you will absolutely love all the complicated characters, especially Evelyn Hugo.



Day 582:
The tests are going well on the ISS. The plant matter that was found on Mars seems to be like a good building material, and we may also be able to harvest some of the energy it is making for ourselves since it seems to create a surplus. Living houses. Like, a house electrified by its walls? How cool is that! We wouldn’t need a power grid as we do on Earth. Everything would be independent, so no more power outages (unless your house dies. Then you’d need to grow a new house). I’m a candidate to be one of the first settlers, but I haven’t been to Mars before like the people who collected this have, so we’ll see if I manage it.
The last year and a half have been great, but the food is starting to make me feel weird. Or at least I hope it’s the food. Maybe it’s the zero-gravity since nobody has stayed in zero-gravity for as long as I have. I haven’t been told how long I have left here, so if it gets too bad I’ll have to tell NASA because it’s getting quite annoying. I can’t quite think straight, my skin is itchy and I found some purple spots. Is it supposed to turn this color? I doubt it. And everything is starting to look different. Like slightly off. I can’t place it, though. I don’t know what’s changing, but it’s getting odder and odder by the day.
I also haven’t heard from NASA in a while. I think a few days. But it could be longer, or shorter. The passage of time gets blurry once you’re up here for long enough, and I think over a year and a half counts as long enough. Well, I’ll write again soon.

I put my diary back in the drawer next to my sleeping bag and closed my eyes, trying to ignore how off-putting the inside of my eyelids look. I think the experiments are almost done. I honestly hope so. I’m so ready to go back to earth and see my family again. I miss them. I roll around until I fall asleep.
The moment I wake up, I know something is wrong. There’s a crushing weight on top of me, and I’m struggling to breathe. I try to open my eyes, but they won’t move. My whole body feels like it is covered in the purple spots that were only on my arms and chest just last night, but I can’t itch them. As I lay in agony, I realize I can’t be on the ISS anymore. The only thing that crushing feeling could be is gravity, which would explain why I can’t breathe. I must have been up there for so long that my muscles deteriorated so much that I now can’t even breathe or move.
I start to feel very light and find it harder and harder to struggle to move. My lungs are screaming for air, and finally, I lose consciousness.

The Way

We live in a world where there is good and evil

A place filled with upheaval

Everywhere we go there is anarchy

Our world is filled with catastrophe


Time goes by

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide

Sometimes it fills like I’m trapped inside my mind


Feet frozen, can’t move

Don’t know how much I can endear


Time goes by, that I wish I can fly

To a place that is different, than no other


Heart beating

Feet pacing

Don’t know what I’m chasing


Faster than the past

Stuck between three path

Don’t know what I should do

Should I go or should I stay..


To the side on my left was a kid like, no other

“Who are you?” the man asked

“I am a child that will show you the way and let the light shine upon you and guide to what’s right.”


Is it true?

Will you show me the way?


The kid stood still, eyes upon me

Taking my hand, and leading me to a path


The path that show me the way


The Girl in My Mind

I don’t know who she is, but I have her face memorized. I’ve never even seen her outside of my own head. Every time I zone out, her face appears in my mind. Dark skin and long, beautiful braids. Warm brown eyes. Every time I zone out. I know it’s weird. Honestly, I should see a doctor, but it doesn’t bother me, so why should I?

I’ve been seeing her for a long time. Years, probably. I think the first time was when I was 16, and I was laying in bed on a Sunday morning. Her face popped into my head, so vividly that I thought I had fallen back asleep. But you never really see faces in dreams, so I was just confused.

It was a normal part of my life for five years, the same routine of seeing her in my mind every day or two. I had assumed it was just some weird mental thing caused by the stress of living, until last month. I was working in the restaurant I’d worked in since my sophomore year, and she was staring at me through the front window. I stared back, as I was now having hallucinations of her since she can’t be real.

I asked my boss to take a break and she told me I could, as long as I’m back before the lunch rush in about thirty minutes. I walked out the front door over to where I had seen her, but she disappeared around a corner. I ran to find her and managed to get around the corner fast enough to spot her in the crowd and grab her sleeve.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before being yelled at to get out of the way. We walked off to the side of the sidewalk.

She talked first, “You’re not real,”

“No, you’re not real. Are you real?” I asked,

“I mean… I think I’m real. But you’re not real. You can’t be real. How did you recognize me?”

“I see you whenever I zone out. Do you see me too? Like in your mind?”

“Only after I take my meds… I just thought it was a weird side effect. It’s new, I’m just in the testing group,”

I pause, processing the situation, “What’s your name?”

“Cassandra,” she says, “What’s yours?”

“Elena,” I say, “How long have you been on this new med?”

“Four-ish years,” Cassandra replies, “Why?”

“Because I’ve been seeing you for four-ish years. I think the med is making us see each other. Maybe.. like.. ask your doctor about this. Because it’s super weird,”

“Yeah. Will do. Do you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah. I probably should,”

So I went back to work. Thankfully I only had an hour left before I could go home, but I was kind of in shock. I had gone home and stared at the ceiling, not quite sure what to do. I didn’t get her number or anything, so I had no way of contacting her.

Then, yesterday, I saw a headline about a schizophrenia medication that had previously been promising but only changed symptoms, not helped them. Normally, this wouldn’t have been odd since I’m a phycology major and get articles like this all the time. What caught my eye was when I read it, it mentioned a girl named Cassandra Williams, who claimed to have met one of her hallucinations in a restaurant.

I realized that I hadn’t seen her in my head for about two weeks, when before it was every day.

So now she thinks I’m a hallucination. Probably the strangest thing to ever happen to me, but what’s life without odd happenings every now and then?

The Quest for the Galaxian Stone (Part 12)

Image of a fantasy map
Image by dmsqlsu123 from Pixabay

We bolted through the camp, all three of us bolting as fast as we could possibly go. We quickly made it out of there but continued to run to a nearby area densely wooded. When we finally made it to the woods, all three of us promptly collapsed from exhaustion. “Ugh. I’m never running that fast again.” Cirvela moaned. “Because of the cramps or the lack of breath?” I asked. “Both. And the feeling that there’s an entire army chasing after you, trying to kill you.” she replied. “I’m just happy you’re alive.” I said. “Hey, I hate to break up the moment, but what are we going to do now that we have your cousin back.” Clydia asked. “We’re going to follow this map I stole.” Cirvela announced. “But first, let’s get some sleep.” “Great idea.” I said “Let’s try and make camp over in that clearing.” When we had unpacked what little things we had and arranged them accordingly, Clydia asked, “Hey, how do we know that Xarupte won’t search this area, find us, and then kill us in our sleep?” “Apparently, he’s possessed or something like that. Small things like a prisoner escaping won’t shake his focus.” Cirvela answered. “Well, that means I can sleep in peace tonight.” I said. And then, we went to sleep.

The next morning, we studied the map Cirvela had stolen. “Okay, it looks like Xarupte is going to pass through the Hidomian valley, make a stop at the Lefomian village. and continue northeast to the Prymese Mountains.” Cirvela said. “Look, there’s some more writing under the name of the Prymese Mountains.” Clydia said. “It must be written in Hidomian or Lefomian.” I said. “I know a little Hidomian.” Clydia replied, coming to the rescue. After a minute or so, Clydia’s face went white. “What? What is it?” I asked. “Roughly translated,” Clydia said, “It says ‘Location of the Galaxian stone'”.

Far Cry 5 Review

Cover of the PS4 version of the FarCry5 video game

Far Cry 5 was released in March 2018 to the most divisive reception of a Far Cry game to date. Some were fans of the game’s open ended structure and compelling antagonists, while some criticized the weak story, forced and contrived plot advancements, and especially the ending.

Far Cry 5 was my first Far Cry game so that fact will definitely change my overall view of the game. With that being said, I enjoyed this game a lot.

The story itself was pretty fun. A fictional county in Montana gets infiltrated by the cult Eden’s Gate, run by Joseph Seed, who believes that the collapse of civilization is upon us and we must work to protect ourselves from it. There are three siblings of Joseph that help him run it, some better than others. Easily the best was Jacob, who believes that in order for humanity to reach our full potential we must cull the weak from our society. On the other hand, the main character themselves is completely silent and customizable to the player’s will, so there’s no real personality to them.

Gameplay in 5 is fun albeit simple. You gather resistance points in 3 regions to force confrontations with the respective rulers of each region. You can do this with story missions, side activities, and liberating outposts. Outpost liberation is a very fun time, especially mastering the stealth mechanics of the game. If you learn proper techniques, you can pull off some of the most smooth sequences. Story missions are also pretty fun, albeit simple, which is fine. Personalities of different characters you come across can be quite unique, like Hurk, who’s insane energy makes him a breath of fresh air. Objectives are pretty straightforward; like defending or attacking a location, rescuing hostages, etc. All of these are fun though it proves Far Cry 5 is really just following an already safe formula established in 3 and they haven’t done anything major to change it, though it’s an undeniably great time.

Although Far Cry 5 isn’t pushing any boundaries, it’s still a very good time with lots to do alongside memorable characters and a great setting. 8.5/10

This is starwarsguy124, signing out.

Sweet Dreams

I go to sleep every night at 10:00. Shower, brush my teeth, sleep. Every single night. And I sleep well. I have always had oddly vivid dreams. I can read, write, and talk in them, which I was surprised to learn is rare. 

That night was just like any other night. Crawl under the covers at 10 and fall asleep. I began to dream about a summer camp I would go to as a child. It had sprawling fields and forests where we would hike. I was by the bonfire late at night, when I noticed a strange girl at the edge of the treeline. I had never seen her before, and she intrigued me. In the dream, I walked towards her and she went further into the woods. I followed. 

There was a clearing with a picnic table in the middle which the girl sat down on. She was older than me, with long dark hair and blue eyes. I went over to the table and sat down.

“Hello, Clarisse,” The girl had said,

“Hi… I’ve never seen you here before. Are you late arriving at camp?” For some reason, possibly because it was a dream, I didn’t find it odd that she knew my name.

She chuckles, “Yeah. I got here yesterday,”

“Oh. Well we probably should be getting back to the bonfire. I think the counselors will come looking for us soon,”

Suddenly, It was the end of the summer. We were sitting in that same clearing when she pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil and began to write down her name and phone number, passing it across the table to me. I did the same.

“Call me when you wake up,”

When I woke up, I found the dream very odd. Even odder was the fact that I remembered her name and phone number. Melissa Moore, 412-316-6290. I picked up my phone and wrote it in the notes app. I went about my day as usual, not thinking too much of it. I thought that if I called it, some old lady would pick up, very confused as to who I was. It couldn’t possibly be her number.

That night, when I went to bed, I had the same dream. In fact, I had that same dream every night for a week. Still, I didn’t call the number. But on the eighth morning waking up after the dream, I finally decided to call. 

“Hello?” I asked into the phone when it was answered,

“Finally. Eight dreams? Usually it only takes one or two. Skeptical you are. Or maybe just anxious,” 

I stood there with the phone up to my ear, shocked, “Melissa?”

“Yes. You will see me again tonight. Just in a slightly…different setting. Although that summer camp was scenic,” 

“What-” I began to say, but the call ended. I looked at the phone, disappointed and confused. How had some character in a recurring dream called me in real life?

I pinched my arm, trying to wake up. There was no way this could be real right? It had to be a dream. But when I pinched my arm, I didn’t wake up. When I went to work that day, I didn’t wake up.

But when I went to sleep that night, I did wake up. In a dream. Sure enough, Melissa was there, as promised. We were in what looked to be an old bookshop, except the ceiling was a huge skylight and there were three moons. There were both old and new books lining every inch of the wallspace, and several large, arching doorways that looked to lead into more and more rooms similar to the one I was in. 

Finally, I got my tongue to move and my mouth to form words, “Melissa, how did you contact me in the real world when you’re just a dream?”

“What makes you say that? I’m just as real as you,”

“Except for the fact that you’re in a dream?”

“Does this feel like a dream to you, Clarisse?”

I paused. When I really thought about it, no. It felt real. Just like every waking moment in the real world, I felt just as real.

“Let me explain,” Melissa said, “This is a type of pocket world. Very few people can access it. Maybe twenty or thirty every two hundred years. Currently, the only dream moderators are me, Jack, Claire, and Juniper. Rarely are we here at the same time, but we have meetings every few months. If any of us come across any dreamers strong enough to come here and join, we call a meeting to see if it’s even a good idea to bring them here. Usually the answer is no, they would abuse the power and play jokes on people’s dreams, or venture into current dreams for their own entertainment. We only choose the ones who we believe won’t abuse the power to moderate dreams,”

“What is this place? And what are dream moderators?”

“This is the Moonlight Society. We browse dreams to make sure people don’t remember more than they need to. More than they should,”

“Meaning?” I asked

“Meaning your brain can create some deeply… disturbing dreams. It’s our job to make sure you don’t remember too much. Now sometimes dreams slip through the cracks. Those are nightmares. Most of the time, though, we end up finding confusing or ordinary dreams. Rarely do we need to actually go into them, only read them. That’s why we’re in a bookshop,”

“We’re literally standing in a library full of people’s dreams?”

“Yes. Now my question is, how would you like to join us? Become a dream moderator. It pays well too. You won’t have to get a job outside of the Moonlight Society if you don’t want to. Simply come here every few nights, read through whatever dreams call to you and erase some of the pages that shouldn’t be remembered, then wake up and go about your day. Move somewhere nice, maybe,”

“Can I have a few days to think? Consider if I want to?”

“Sure. We’ll call you back in three days. They you can decide,”

 And she did. Three days later I was called back. I took the job. Now, three years later, I’m living in a cozy apartment in London. I have some friends. I go for coffee at a local coffee shop every morning and eat breakfast there too sometimes. Hiding my job is difficult, since you can’t exactly just casually mention you’re a Dream Moderator, but I’ve made it work so far.


I walk home from work at the same time, on the same route, five days a week. Out the back door, left, down two blocks, left again, and up the staircase to my apartment. I go through the path in my head as I sit at the front desk of the café I work at, waiting for my shift to be over. A short man walks up to the desk. 

“Welcome to Clemdon’s Café, how may I help you?” I force a smile

“You will find your way to us in time, Maeve Bell,” he says in a monotonous voice

“How do you know-,”

But he walks away before I can finish my sentence. I stood there in shock for a few minutes, thoroughly creeped out. I don’t recognize him, and I forgot my nametag so there’s no way he could have read it. I rack my brain for anywhere he could have seen my name on the internet, but I use a fake name on all of my social media. 

Maybe my mom’s Facebook? I think, But she only allows family to follow her

“Maeve?” I hear Lucy, my manager, say, “Your shift’s over, hun, you can go home,” 

“Yeah, right, sorry. Just lost track of time,” I walk to the back to grab my bag

“You sure you’re okay? You look a bit pale,” Lucy says, worriedly 

I turned to face her, “That guy knew my name. Like my full name. It was super creepy,”

“What man? Nobody’s been in here for the past half hour,”

“What do you mean? You were standing right there,”

“Maeve, I think you need to get some rest. Go home,” She grabs a doughnut from the display case and hands it to me, “And eat some food, I don’t want you getting too hungry,”

“Thanks,” I say, and walk out the door. 

I walk my usual route home as I eat my doughnut. 

I notice a strange alley that I’ve never noticed before. I look around. The street’s empty and it’s suddenly dark outside. I think of what the man said earlier. ‘You will find your way to us in time,’ Is this what he meant? I look down at my watch and jump a bit. 00:00. I’m really starting to get creeped out now. I pull my phone out of my pocket, but all it shows is a white screen. 

I look down the alley, and something tells me to walk down it. I walk forward, slowly, and once I cross the threshold, the world around me changes. The walls aren’t ruddy brick, but old blue plaster. I look forward and see a village of tall houses and shops with trees in all the front yards. The streets are cobblestone and there are small flowers blooming through the cracks. 

I stand there in shock, and the man from work walks around the corner. He smiles as if he expected me to be there.

“I knew you would find the portal eventually. I’m Amos. I apologize for scaring you earlier, but you needed to be scared to find your way,”

“Where am I?” I ask in disbelief.

“You are in the village of Old Blackberry. A pocket world in between dimensions. It’s quite a unique place,”

“But…what? Why am I here Amos? I need to get home,”

“Maeve, there’s something you need to know, and we don’t have long,”

“What?” I ask,

“Have you ever wondered why your mother doesn’t pay attention to you? Why don’t you look like her or your siblings?”

“My dad left when I was little. I look like him, and my sister and brother look like my mom,”

Amos smiles bittersweetly, “No, Maeve. You’re not from there. You were born here, and wandered through the portal when you where six years old. The same one you just came back through. The mother you grew up with found you walking down the street alone and took you home, and never had the heart to let you go. I’ve been watching you grow up from afar, through windows into your dimension.  But portals only open every ten years. They stay open for forty-eight hours, and then close back up. So I’d like to give you a choice. Do you stay here, or go back? I will not judge either way,” 

“Do I have family here?”

“Yes. Would you like to meet them?”

I think for a minute, “Yeah. But when does the portal close?”

“You have about forty hours left,”

Amos starts walking, and I follow. The houses and shops are interspersed together, some shops with apartments on top and some not. They’re mostly two or three stories, many of them with balconies. We walk for a few minutes before he turns and we walk into a pale green coffee shop that looks to have an apartment on top. There’s three people inside, sitting at a table near the window. 

When they see me, they walk over and hug me, and I can tell there are tears in their eyes, “My little girl. I never thought I’d see you again,” says the oldest woman.

And then I wake up.

The Saddest Circus In Town

Put on your blue costume 

And don’t forget the face paint,

Walk out of this room 

And never dare complain. 


This is your new home. 

Nobody here knows you.

Get used to feeling alone, 

As we all learned to do.  


The circus looks fun.

The music is always playing 

As you try to run 

Us you will be betraying.  


Come back and see our tears, 

We painted them on, 

To show you the fears

As we hear his name.  


He controls us all. 

You and I are lifeless, 

As we fear to fall

Into hell so timeless. 


You can’t hide forever,

He will find you. 

He knows you aren’t clever 

And your world will too be blue.