How do you want to be remembered? Do you want people to remember you as an important leader, or a shy sit-in-the-back-of-the-room person? Do you want people to smile when they look back on the memories you two shared, or groan and roll their eyes? The only way we can accomplish our dreams on how we are remembered is to change ourselves. Although it's not as easy as lying and pretending to be someone else, it makes you feel better when you look back on your life. It might just make you smile.

      If I could change the world in one way, I would change the way we see and remember memories. I would make memories still photos. No conversations or actions. Just pictures. The truth would be fully explained, and there would be no confusion that someone is different than they truly are because of something they had said once a long time ago. You could be able to see right through their tricks and schemes. All you would see is them.
The real them. 
Just because of one picture.

     I don't like losing. No one does. But, when it happens to me, I feel broken. More so than others. It crushes me up like a soda can, and throws me out into the street. Then, people walk around me as if I am not there. It makes me truly feel pain in my heart. It shows how useless I am.
The monster who lives within me seems to growl and try to punish me in any and every way possible. All because I lost a little game.
      But, once you lose so many in a row, it really does hurt. You don't seem to feel the courage to stand up and try again. It's because you just don't want to be thrown back onto the ground again. So, why not just stay lying there? Fallen. Lost. Unaccepted.
That's one way....
     Another way is to accept you lost, fall to the ground, but get back up. The pain you feel as you crash to the ground could energize you- make you want to try even harder. Only strong people can do this. Do you believe you're strong?


Excerpt:

I run down the long hallway until I reach an open door. I stop a moment, and take a deep breath. I feel my heart race as I take a few more breaths. In and out. Pushing out all my fears, worries, and not to mention carbon dioxide. I breath in new fears and worries as well as tension. I close my eyes, hoping to imagine that I was anywhere but here. I imagine I was in a meadow. There are flowers, millions of them. They are all purple and blue; my two favorite colors. And, among all of them, is one yellow carnation. Holding that flower in his hands, is the one, the only, Clay Hale. His eyes sparkle a bright shade of green that cannot be contracted even from the beautiful meadow he stands in. His tall, dark shape shields the flowers from all evil. He is like an angel. He is an angel. But, angel sounds kinda girly. So, he is a knight. A bold, strong, fearless knight. Clay’s awesomeness brings a smile to my face, giving me all the confidence in the world. With this confidence, I lift my hand to the door, and push it open. And, then in I walk, strutting with happiness standing on my shoulders. 

“Samantha? Your late. Sit down. Now, how are you feeling today?” the dark man asks me. Oh, how I hate going to the guidance counselor.