THOUGHTS THAT NO ONE SHOULD EVER GET CAUGHT THINKING

(The Most Unstructured Piece of Writing In Existence)

Here are some of my thoughts on life: A lot involving things that I have dealt with/am dealing with; some are just thoughts that I trap in my own mind, caging them from the world, unsure of the stance that others might take; some are pointless and serve no real purpose; some are rather serious, thoughts that I contemplate quite often; they are all different, serving different purposes (or perhaps sometimes, none at all). The beginning is mostly just anecdotes of my life recently. But past that - it gets a little bit deeper, much of it becomes pondered questions and thoughts, not specifically about me, but in general. Nevertheless, still thoughts. Each of them originated in my mind, and for one reason or another, I had a desire to express them on paper.

Mom took me shopping. I got some shirts, but I couldn't spend much, because it was a gift card (for sixty dollars). Still, sixty dollars is a lot of money, especially just for some t-shirts - to me at least. I guess 'cause I shop at thrift stores. But I love thrift stores. It's my place of choice, and they are my favourite of places to shop. You can find things in them that you wouldn't find anywhere else, and I mean ANYWHERE. Anyway, yeah, so mom took me to get a few t-shirts. 'Twas nice of her, I thought.

She even cleaned up the majority of my room. I've kept it the same since Brittany left; never bothered to clean up or remove any of her stuff or anything. In fact, her diet coke cans were still spread all over the room. I'd never drink diet sodas, but diet coke was Britt's favourite. I guess mom decided it was time to clean up again. Kind of interesting, how she didn't make me do it, or at least make me help. I just came home from school and the majority of it had been cleaned.

Little gestures, little things; she does lots of little things that let me know she cares. I can tell that she is doing what she can, trying to -amongst everything else- make me feel better, and make sure I know that she's there for me. And I do. I know. I always know she's there. And it's obvious that she's trying her hardest to get me past all this shit.

Even Dad, he does it too. There are little things he does that tell me he loves me, little things that erase any doubts that may have possibly entered into my mind, that answer any posed questions that I may have had insecurities about. Just little things, things that might seem corny or irrelevant to others; but to me, they speak volumes. They tell me 'Yes Amber, of course he loves you.' They whisper, 'See how much he cares?' And I know that he does. I'll always know. It may have taken some time, perhaps a lot of time, but I know now, I have finally realized.

I have realized that it really doesn't matter if he was my 'birth' father or whatever. He doesn't have to be. He's still my daddy. MY dad. He's shared amongst others, of course, but I know that I can call him mine. It really doesn't matter to me what else occurs, anything could end up happening (between my mom and dad, in general, or whatever). Even once I'm grown, once I am an adult; he'll still always be my father. I know I can go to him; I can trust him. None of that is going to change no matter how much time passes, and no matter what our family goes through. I'm so glad that I have him.

I wonder what I'd have been like without a father. And I'm not just saying that, I really do. I often contemplate what things would have been like, what would have been different. Life without a father - something that is all-too-common, something that is hardly ever even acknowledged anymore. 'Another child growing up without a father, so what, they're all over the place.' No one pays it much attention like they used to. It's completely normal. More and more children are growing up without fathers in their lives, being raised by single mothers, without the help of a father for financial, social, and emotion help. No daddy to guide them; to ensure that feeling of security and protection that every child deserves to feel. Just one of many. Fatherless.

Surely, I wouldn't have had one if it weren't for him. My 'real' dad didn't do jack shit in the 'father' category. That just shows how much meaning labels have; labels are lies, labels are just another way to judge people. Why put the label of 'real' on my biological father? He isn't my real father. In fact, he really isn't a father at all. He never has been. But, (here comes another label) my 'step-father' is my daddy. He has become more of a father over the years than ever required of him. He never had to do it. But he did anyway. He loves me unconditionally; I know that. It doesn't matter to him that I am not his daughter genetically. It makes no difference. I'm still his daughter - he doesn't care about the label of 'step-daughter,' because that isn't real to him. He doesn't see me like that. I am his daughter. Plain and simple - nothing needs to be added to that. His daughter, just as he is my father, and nothing is going to change that. Ever.

I don't really know why I just typed all of that, all of this, as though anyone has the desire to read it. I don't know the purpose of my writing this entire thing out. Maybe I'm just telling myself things; putting it all in writing so that it makes it seem more real. Just reassuring myself that it is what it is, that it's true. I guess everyone has doubts now and again, but deep down in my heart, I know the honest truth. I guess I just wanted to write it; it just makes it all the more real.

I guess maybe sometimes I have doubts. There is a little bit of fear that I might lose my father, should something happen to my parent's relationship, or whatever. I guess I may have been seeking to be reassured; to know that no matter what happens between them, things don't have to change between us; I guess I wanted some kind of assurance that I'm not going to be left fatherless, that I'm going to be able to count on having my dad for the rest of my life. Eh. I can see why they say that thinking too much can be a problem...

I got to talk on the phone with Brittany today. Only for four minutes (a very short four minutes at that), but at least we got to talk. It was great to hear her voice, though it made me cry a bit. I miss her so very much. I don't think anyone understands. I don't really think anyone can- even I didn't, not until now. I never knew it was going to be this hard. But how could I have known? She is my twin after all; I guess I should have expected things to feel pretty shitty without her for a while. I had to have known that some things would change. I am having a really tough time with her being gone now, though. I guess I didn't expect it to be quite this difficult.

Things are so different, yet so very much the same. What I wouldn't give to have her home again. I really cannot believe that I'm going to have to wait a year. Possibly more. It all just doesn't make sense to me. They can't just take her all of a sudden, moving her to a whole different state; WITHOUT her twin, and then not allow contact for such a long time. I feel so abandoned - left behind. Not that I had any desire to go, I definitely did not, but I must admit that I was not in the least bit prepared for her 'move.'

I guess I just have to know that she is getting better, that living in that place is going to help her, and when she returns she is going to be an even better person than she was when she left (and for those who aren't aware, that was a pretty damn great person!). It doesn't stop me from missing her though. I feel a bit like a piece of me left along with her. A missing piece; a piece that can only return when she does. I shall be very glad when that day comes.

I kind of feel like I have been neglecting my friends a little bit lately; not showing up at the tree during lunch and all. I've just needed some time to think things over. I'm not even sure if it has been beneficial; but at least, I'd like all of them to know that my intention was not to further any friendships, I don't want any of them to drift. I love my friends. All of them, to death I do; there isn't anything I wouldn't do for each one of them (with valid reason, of course). I am not mad at any of my friends - the only reason that I have not been around quite as much as before is that I'm just trying to get everything straightened out with myself. I've had a lot going on, and have just needed time to get everything in order; as much as is possible anyway, though it seems there is a lot that still needs some work.

I haven't been writing as much poetry as usual, I kind of took a break on it for a few weeks. I have however, been writing up a few short stories, and working on other bits of writing. There has been so much that I've been thinking about, it really would have been great to get more of it on paper. I'm sure there are hundreds of poems that could be created from just recent experiences, things that have happened these past few weeks. I think I have learned more just in this past year than I have the rest of my years combined. Okay, so that might be a slight exaggeration, but not by much. I really have began to discover and experience things that I may have never thought about or understood before. I feel as though it has all been coming at me with amazing speed, just completely surrounding me. So much has been going on, yet at the same time; if someone asked me what I have been up to lately, I could honestly answer 'Nothing,' and it would be pretty damn true.

That might sound a bit weird, but hey, no one ever said that I was normal, at least I don't think... Come to think of it, I think I do recall a time when someone referred to me as 'fairly normal' after hearing another claim me as odd. Not that it really matters, I'm sure it makes no difference to you all, anyway.

Today was a really hard day to get through, and I mean extremely tough. From the moment I opened my eyes this morning, I knew that today wasn't going to be easy. For whatever reason, I seemed to have a lot of anxiety today. I'm questioning whether it is the new medication, or perhaps just 'one of those days.' It would be hard to explain to my parents, as I'm sure just as complicated for them to understand - so I have not talked about it; but I'm really worried about their forcing me to get a job. Originally, they were going to be okay with me just finding things to occupy my summer, even if it wasn't a job. But after talking with my psychotherapist (who really is psycho, by the way), they somehow came to the conclusion that a job would be therapeutic for me.

My mom, being the highly intelligent mother that she is (this is sarcasm, for any of you who might not catch the tone, since it is on paper, after all...) Just HAD to mention something to the psychotherapist about my 'irrational fear' of growing up, thereby drawing attention to it, and bringing about many irritating questions and 'concerns' about it that the dumb therapist found necessary to ask me. Then, somehow, upon acquiring very little knowledge of my substantial fear, she deemed it necessary that I learn to overcome it. Apparently, she does not understand. This is NOT something that I can just overcome, I have been dealing with this for years; and it's not going to be 'cured' by shoving my ass out into the job world, and promising a paycheck at the end of torture-week.

I know that probably no one is going to comprehend this, or be able to really understand, but it is very, very hard for me. I'm having an extremely rough time accepting the whole 'growing-up' thing. With each day, I worry more and more about it. I honestly wonder if 'god' (or whoever/whatever) made a mistake when creating us, in that growing up was not supposed to be determined with time, but rather, with maturity. To each his own, I have always thought.

I think it should be left up to each individual to decide whether he or she is ready to grow up. I can truthfully say that I am not even close. Reaching an age that is viewed as 'adulthood' freaks me out terribly. I cannot imagine having to rely on myself for almost everything.

It is quite difficult for me to picture myself leaving my home; no longer living with mom, dad, and the little ones. I cannot see myself living alone. Though I'm sure I often deceive people (by hiding out in my room, claiming to want 'alone' time, separating myself from others during lunch sometimes, etc.), I really have no desire to be by myself. At least not for a very long period of time- definitely not as a living arrangement. I need people; and they need me too (at least I hope, I don't mean for this to sound as though I believe that I am of superior or high importance, or anything like that, I just mean that I'd hope/assume/like to believe that other people want or could use my help, or perhaps just my presence in general, at least sometimes).

I greatly fear all of this; going out into the world, becoming a so-called 'adult,' depending upon myself for most everything, being the one to make virtually every decision in my life. It's not just the responsibility part either. But I've seen what many of these people become, what happens to these 'adults.'

I've watched; I know how things turn out for them. I have seen the way these people begin to act, the way that they handle everything. I've seen what becomes of utmost importance in their lives. I have noticed the way that they become. Granted, I cannot speak for every adult; but far too many of the ones that I have encountered become this way.

I see how they idolize those that are rich, those who have conquered the ever-challenging life of wealth. I have seen the way they throw away years of their lives, sacrificing time with their friends and family, just for the sake of money. I've taken note of how they manage to get caught up in work, caught up in making money. I've witnessed them becoming distracted, blinded even- by responsibility. Becoming blinded by the workplace, their minds warping, beginning to deceive themselves; they start to get caught up in trying to provide for the family, trying to pay the bills, purchase desired things, becoming successful. It becomes everything to them.

Wealth. Success. Happiness. They begin to tie everything together. Start to think that without one, they can't have the other. Their lives become consumed, their bodies become exhausted, from trying to accomplish too much too quickly, from focusing too much on a specific thing. They begin to lose it all. They lose their happiness. Their joy becomes almost non-existent. Their faces show expression of worry, disappointment, failure, and confusion. They truly become lost.

I've seen how people become adults, and then along with it, their priorities begin to change. They begin to cling to religion like never before, seeking comfort and empty promises. They look for one to guide them- one to tell them right from wrong - one to lead the way, help them through life. One to tell them which decisions to make, one to promise them success, promise them happiness.

That's when they begin to turn. They begin to rely on religion, no longer feeling as though they can handle things on their own; no longer feeling like they have the support that their parents once gave them. One day, you're just too old, and all of a sudden you are expected to fix all of your own problems, do everything for yourself. No longer can you rely on you parents for help, and have them to fall back on. So they begin to turn. Turn to religion - looking for guidance, looking for help. As children, they have their parents to look to for this. They have their teachers, their family, and their friends. But they grow up, and all of a sudden - kick 'em out and lock the door. Sorry kids, you're on your own now, you're too grown to rely on us anymore. But the children, as youngsters- they always get the help; they are always offered guidance.

Adults will look past the ignorance in children, just wanting to help teach them things to help them through life. But to be honest, I believe that the greatest, the extreme, the true ignorance - lies among those who have already 'grown up.' Those who have matured, become 'wise' throughout the years, and experienced what the more youthful have yet to come across.

They become proud. The older people get, the more they seem to develop a sense of pride- way too much, in fact. More and more often, we begin to hear "When you are my age, you can come back and we will discuss this. Once you have become wiser. Later, but not now."

Well Sir, Ma'am; if I may be so bold to ask you- will I ever be? It really doesn't matter how many more years go by, when I become that age that you once were, when I return, again wishing to discuss certain things, you will have become older as well. I will never become your age. 'Til the day you die, you are going to be 'older' than me, and you'll have experienced more of life.

But I assure you, my friend- Age does not make one wise, it isn't even necessarily the amount of experience. Sure, that's got something to do with it, but I think what truly makes a person wise is their ability to listen to and learn from others. To let go of that pride, and be humble enough to allow others (even if they may be younger than you) to teach you something.

Every single person I meet, from this day forward; each one of them -I can assure you- each of them has some bit of knowledge that I myself do not possess. There is something to learn from everyone. People just have to be willing to take the time to discover. I really do believe that as people grow, as years are added to their lives, their level of ignorance also increases. The longer people have been at something, the more of an 'expert' they think they become. To some extent, that may be true. But age isn't everything. In fact, it is hardly anything. When it comes down to it, there are so many things far more important.

I watch adults so very often; much more than I'm sure they're aware of. I observe them an awful lot. Because to me, there is so much to learn from them, even they will agree to that. They believe it one hundred percent. Adults can always teach youth. Everyone believes that. But how many are willing to accept a lesson from a child? Plenty, I'm sure, though the numbers drop drastically. Pride.

I find myself watching these 'adults' everyday. I've spent countless hours just observing them. It is so interesting to me, these people, with so much more life that has been experienced. All of them are so very different. No two of them the same. With adolescents, and children as well - there are a lot of similarities, a lot of conformity. I find that it is quite common among those that are younger, though as their ages increase, it seems that the people become more and more individual, with an ever-growing number of differences, of ways that they become unique.

I've examined my fair share of people. I have found through these observations that adults prove much more interesting to watch - for extended periods of time anyway. With so many teenagers, I could observe one for just a few minutes, and truthfully be able to say, 'Oh he/she seems exactly like the boy/girl that I was watching earlier.' Adolescents seem to carry many of the same characteristics; it isn't until they get a bit older that they begin to develop more of an individual personality. Though, the lives of each individual person, whether young or old, are never really very much alike.

There is so much for us all to discover; so much that will never be learned about one-another. It astounds me to look around at people I see and think, 'Not one person's story is ever like the other's.' And that is really pretty accurate. There is no way that my mind will ever be able to grasp it all; but there are so many experiences that these people have had, many of which I will never encounter. So many people - each with his or her own story. It's way too much for me to really understand; but I think about it a lot.

Sometimes I'll find myself looking at a random stranger and thinking, I wonder what their story is; I wonder what kind of hardships they've endured, what kind of problems they have faced, what kind of things they still have to face daily. I know that each has their own, - each story unique; nobody with quite the same one. I find it truly amazing.

So many times I have just sat and wondered; thinking about the life of someone I have never met. Guessing, for no real reason, (other than creating fictional answers for my questions for the purpose of just having an answer, even if incorrect) but just putting ideas out there. I'll find myself saying, 'Oh, I bet that guy is a lawyer. I bet he is one of those men whose sole focus is their job, a single guy who spends his evenings reviewing court cases and sipping coffee.' Now what would be the point in playing guessing games with the lives of random strangers? Truthfully, there isn't one. Yet, I find myself doing it anyway. Creating images in my own head of what I think a person's life is like, making up occupations and personal issues, just wasting lots of time trying to view what the life of this stranger might be. The thing is though, that I will probably never know. Nor would there be any point in me knowing.

I will admit to the occasional occurrence when my curiosity would reach a level higher than I found controllable, and I would end up asking them, just to see how right, or in most cases -how wrong- I was.

There has been more than one instance where I have found myself asking someone about their life, without even knowing them. It wouldn't seem such an odd thing to do though, really, at least I wouldn't imagine that the said stranger would find it odd. It would be likely that they'd just think I was being polite, or perhaps just creating light conversation, idle chitchat as I waited for the bus to come to my stop, or waited in line at a store.

Strangers often ask each other these types of questions when they strike up conversation. It would have appeared that I was just talking, like any normal person would. But of course, being the way I am, that wouldn't really be the case. Though they might have thought that I was just being friendly while waiting in line - what I had really been up to was something quite a bit more odd than that. Something that could be viewed by most as silly at the very least, and perhaps a bit strange and eccentric.

So what was my real intention? I was trying to acquire accurate information about their life, in order to give myself a proper score in this silly game; discovering just how terribly inaccurate making judgments about people can prove to be.

It just goes to show how wrong people are. So many of us begin forming opinions about others before even speaking our first word to them. It seems to come naturally. Judging people based on stereotypes - based on nothing but a first glance. It is so rare that those judgments actually prove to be true. Granted, there may be instances where an originally thought/judgment might end up being true. But not everything. Getting to know who someone really is requires a lot more than just that initial meeting.

Perhaps that is why I am so fascinated by so many things that others do not find amusing. I could just be weird, which isn't so hard to believe, but I think it's more than that. It is almost as though some of my dumb little antics end up being something I learn from, being a slap in the face for me once in a while. Not intentionally, but sometimes pointless things, such as this 'Strangers Guessing Game' I created to entertain myself, end up really making me stop and think. Every time I do this -make an assumption about a random stranger, and then approach them with simple friendly questions- it reminds me of just how wrong I can be. Not only me specifically, but people as a whole.

It is rare that I would end up getting several of my original 'assumptions' right about a stranger (after asking them and receiving the real answers). It brought me to the realization that the world judges it's people so often, and often the judgments prove to be incorrect. I'm sure that in several instances, people never even find out just how wrong they had originally been. I wonder how many opportunities people have missed out on, because of judging others, and never taking the time to find out the truth. I bet it happens constantly.

My idea of creating a silly game (like the one I had previously mentioned) might sound pretty dumb, but that is to be expected. It is in fact -a rather pointless game- and being that my intention was only for it to entertain me for a little while, I would say it served its purpose well. In the process, it even managed to wake me up to life, to certain situations approached daily by many.

It served as a reminder that people often aren't what they originally seem to be, and that things don't always turn out like was first expected, either. Life can surprise us; you don't always know what you've got, even after you've had it for quite a while. Wounds heal. Flowers bloom. People change. We've got to be ready for whatever gets tossed in our direction. I might do some pretty idiotic things when I reach certain levels of boredom, but that's okay, 'cause I can be a bit of an idiotic person at times. It's who I am.

As far as that 'Random Questions for Strangers' game goes, I was never really surprised by my terrible guessing success rate. It would be pretty impossible that I would correctly guess the life of someone I've only seen. It just doesn't happen. Each child, each adult, each and every person - is their own entity. Their lives are just as important or unimportant as yours and mine. When someone has not taken the time or been given the opportunity to get to know another, it is not often that the stranger would be of any importance to them. After all, how could someone care about a complete stranger? Sure there is general concern for the health and well being of others, but it isn't very strong. Surely one would not wish unkind things upon another that they do not know, they'd have no reason to. But it doesn't mean that they would care, should something happen to this 'stranger.'

The fact is, people whom we pass each day, (just while on our way from one place to another, or in passing; those we might sit next to briefly on the bus on the way home from work, etc.) are exactly that to us - just people.

They have little or no affect on our lives. But I guess I'm strange. I am one to put a lot of thought into people, -even, and sometimes especially- ones whom I do not know. I have a natural curiosity toward them. I like to think about the many different things that these people may have experienced - to wonder what it would like to be them. I am the only person with this life. No one will ever live to be me. Sometimes it seems strange to me to think that no one will ever live my life. That no one will ever view things EXACTLY as I see them. Each of us entities has our own life to live; our own book with chapters that only we contain. Special.

The problem I find with that word, is that if everyone is special (and I believe they are, each in their own way though, of course) then really, is anyone special? If you truly think about it, if one person is special, and then you can turn around and call another one special, then that makes two special people. And well, if they are both, as you call them, 'special,' then it would seem to me that they have both been given the same title, thus taking away its meaning.

It's okay; you can say it. I understand that I am completely psycho, and that anyone still reading this (no way, there can't be anyone who has made it to this point...) must be thinking 'this girl is totally and completely crazy. Why would anyone even care to analyze all of this crap?' The answer to that is simply and matter-of-factly- I do not know. It is irrelevant to life, and matters not.

But in the grand scheme of things, nothing really matters. This universe is huge. There is no telling what is beyond what the human-eye can see. Even with the help of man's creations, we will never know all that there is to know; we shall never see all that there is to see.

Though previously stated, (as fact), I'd like to reiterate something. But this time - rather, in question: Does anything really matter? I mean, sure, to an extent, there is reason for doing the things that we do. If you step on the child's sandcastle, it will affect the child. He/she is going to be upset, and become distraught over the fact that his or her work has been destroyed.

So you stepped on a sandcastle... does it really matter? No. It isn't a very big deal. But to the child, it is a whole different view. That castle represented their masterpiece. It was proof of lots of time, effort and dedication that the kid felt towards this particular project. To its creator, the now crushed sandcastle is a major problem. It happens to be a very big ordeal.

To anyone but the child, however, the destruction of the sandcastle is of little or no importance. Even to the one who made the mistake of stepping on it, it doesn't really matter. They don't see it as very important. When looked upon from a wider perspective, it becomes of even less importance. Does anyone else playing on the beach care about the no-longer-existent sandcastle? Not a single one. It makes no difference to them whether the castle should remain in one piece, or become ruined.

When you ask the man in jail, waiting for his court hearing to decide whether he is innocent or guilty of murder, he will laugh at this so-called 'problem.' It is nothing compared to his. It matters not. The farther you drift from the source, from the direct person affected, the less important it becomes.

So to some extent, yes, I guess you could say that this small, seemingly unimportant event matters. To someone, it makes a difference. But when looked at as a whole, it is meaningless. Even for the gentleman waiting for his verdict, to most, it does not matter. The majority of the world will not feel the effect of the decision, whether it be guilty or innocent. Sure, some might; but again, when examined by all, the problem does not matter.

The world is so very big. There are so many people, so many decisions that have been made, that are being made, and that will be made. So many mistakes to look back on. But when you look at the rest of the world, and all of the other things going on in it, personal matters become less and less major.

When a country is facing a world war, is anyone really going to be concerned that someone stole your wallet? Even yourself, when comparing that problem to the major issue of a world war, it seems rather unimportant - most anyone would agree.

So does anything really matter?

I believe it could be quite accurate to say no, it doesn't. When examined from a worldly viewpoint, none of these little things are really important. Things are going to happen, and whether you end up choosing to turn right or left, it really doesn't make much of a difference. There is a cause, and an effect shall follow. But no matter which way you turn, there is still a cause and effect. Though by choosing one way instead of the other, it shall determine outcomes and latter events - with each direction, things still would have ended up working out. It just may have been a bit different.

Whichever decision you choose is only going to matter to you, and a small group that you might affect. To all else, they couldn't care less.

With all that said, one could conclude that no, in fact, nothing really matters; and it could be deemed a reasonable statement.

At the same time, however, the totally opposite approach could be taken, and still have a perfectly believable outcome. For example, lets switch the entire conclusion from 'nothing really matters' to 'everything makes a difference, and actually DOES matter.'

Just as easily, reasonable conclusions could be drawn from the opposite side. Just as explained in the 'Chaos' Theory - something seemingly very small and insignificant could in fact end up changing the fate of the entire world. The single flap of a butterfly's wings could cause an earthquake on the very opposite end of the world. It's something to think about, that's for sure. It is easy to create a chain explaining how one small event could affect something that might seem to have absolutely no connection to the other.

For instance, take this small chain of events. A young second-grader in South Dakota had been sick for a few days. After showing signs of recovery, the mother decided that it would be okay to send her son back to school. In class the morning of his return, the boy sneezed on the child sitting across from him. Consequently, that child became sick. (We could stop here, but I shall continue, to make a clearer point.) The now sick classmate is forced to stay home for a few days, as to ensure that the other students will not catch the illness. The mother of the child, being concerned with her daughter's health, decided that a doctor's appointment would be a good idea. In the car on the way to the appointment, someone runs a red light, and the oncoming car, which failed to abide by the traffic laws, hits the mother and her sick child. As a result of the crash, the sick child's life is lost. Forever the mother will have to live life without the company of her daughter.

What a chain of events! It could be said that should that first child's mother have kept her son at home and let him fully recover, none of the aforementioned events would have occurred. The son could not have sneezed on the classmate, causing her to become sick, the mother would never have scheduled a doctor's appointment for her daughter, they never would have been driving to the appointment, therefore falling victim to the bad driving decision of someone also on the road at that time, and the child's life would have been spared. It is an accurate assumption.

Though also, it is not very logical to link one thing to another in such a way as this - because it would basically imply that every decision (no matter how small) affects the entire world in such a way that each and every seemingly minuscule event becomes responsible for an infinite number of others.

Thus concludes two opposing viewpoints, both with perfectly logical backing to support them, yet still there is just as much understandable reasoning which might lead one to regard each viewpoint as ignorant and extremely improbable.

Perhaps it is a bit too much to state that 'Nothing really matters' because, surely, one would think that there is SOMETHING that must matter, even if it that 'something' could not be singled out and identified. With that same analytical perspective, it could just as easily be pointed out that the opposing viewpoint, is just as ignorant and improbable of a statement as the first; the statement/opposite viewpoint being 'Everything matters.' It would seem that it would not prove to be too difficult to come up with something that one could state, truly, does not matter.

For example, I could state, quite truthfully, that it does not matter the exact number of eyelashes I have on each of my eyelids. Now there was something completely random that popped into my head, without much thought - something that would be practically impossible for a person to disprove the comment, and somehow manage to explain how something such as that actually does matter.

It is definitely an interesting, controversial and pointless thing to think about. Does everything matter? Does nothing matter? Or perhaps one might try to settle somewhere in between, rather than side with one or the other.

But even then, should one decide to take an in-between stance, claiming that some things matter, and others don't; it would be a view that would prove quite hard to discuss - opening up several doors of opportunity for others to argue against that logic; seeing as what might 'matter' to one person would be of absolutely no importance to the next. How would one decide what could qualify as relevant or non-relevant? No one would be able to factually state that any said thing 'matters' in some cases, or perhaps in others, 'matters not.' So is it absolutely nothing, some things, or absolutely everything that matters? It's something to think about.

Have you ever found you waking from a dream, shaking with tremors, and covered in sweat? Everything that just happened seemed so very real. You begin to question whether it actually was, unable to shake it off that intense feeling.

You highly doubt that what you had just experienced was in fact only a 'dream.' It seemed all too real. It is not possible that this was only your imagination at work; nothing but your mind being in a creative mood, unfolding around you - a story; a story so well put together, with detail so perfect, that you could swear by it. A story that was so incredibly realistic that you can honestly swear that this really was more than just a dream, that these visual memories left in your wake were more than only 'dreams.'

I don't sleep very often, but in the event that I do manage a decent amount of rest, it is quite common that it is accompanied by a rather vivid dream. I don't always remember these dreams, and sometimes I find myself unable to explain or even recall them with much detail. But the one thing about these dreams that I find truly astounding is the incredible feeling that I am left with, even after I wake. A very strong, very powerful feeling of actually experiencing these events first-hand (rather than it being nothing more than a simplistic mind-creation).

Have you ever dreamt something so vivid, that you later spoke of it to someone as though it had really happened, unaware that the event you just told them was untrue? It has happened to me. I've found myself telling a friend of an event, only to later remember that it didn't actually happen, and question whether the event was really true, or had been just a dream. It's weird to find yourself trying to distinguish imagination from reality. It seems that it would be something quite simple. Something that you wouldn't imagine having a problem trying to figure out.

It is quite strange, actually. The dreams that I have often seem so incredibly real, that upon waking from them, I'll kind of just sit up in bed, trying to recall everything that had happened. Sometimes, in the event that I remember the dream rather well; I even have to check to make sure that the things in my dream were in fact, only imagined. Every once in a while, I'll even accept an event as a true occurrence, never once questioning its reality. Then later, I'll discover (usually through talking with another person) that it never happened, that I had in fact spent that day doing something entirely different than I was left remembering. Fooled by my own dream.

If only I were able to create stories -pieces of writing- with as much detail as what I often find myself dreaming. If my talent for writing were as sharp and vivid as my dreams, I would be long past being a 'well-known' author. It's pretty amazing to ponder it all. To think that my mind really does create it's own plots - it's own dreams. Even if I am in a state of unconsciousness, it is still my mind that brought the ideas, still me that made them real, turned them into a story. That is exactly what dreams are, you know. They are stories. Original, and created my none other than yourself. Some of the ideas are fantastic. If I awoke each morning, always remembering well what I had dreamed the night before - I would never run out of story lines. Of course, first, I suppose I would have to actually start sleeping every night; 'cause you can't very well awake if you never went to bed. Sometimes I wish to sleep only for the point of dreaming. Eager for my mind to conjure new ideas that I could use in stories; hoping that I'll be able to remember enough of it the next morning so that it can become exactly that -a story.