Turn away from me. I don't know if I'm ready for what lies there; there with you. I'm scared to turn away from the path I've always traveled. Maybe the time has come to take that chance; to abandon the grip that fear has held onto me . I want it and I can almost taste it; the thrill of the unknown, to take a turn on this narrow path and follow where it leads. Will it lead us face to face or take us side by side? Adrenaline keeps its course through my veins. Something in me, though unseen, beckons me to turn from mediocrity, security and the prison cell called "normal". Turn away from me; I know what you would say. And of course, you'd be right. You would tell me all I have to is try, to believe and start to fly. But this is a road for just one hitch hiker; a journey to be made alone, with only faith to see me to the end. Thank you for your concern and your would-be wisdom. But here is where I take me leave and turn to face my destiny.

        I haven't really stopped to take a good look at myself in a long time. When I do, all I can see are the imperfections rather than the potential. I think, sometimes, I'm afraid to deeply examine myself; maybe because I don't think I'll like what I might find. Others have a picture of me in their minds and that is who I will always be... to them. But I still don't know who I am. People can tell me all about my good qualitites, and everything they see. Still, I couldn't say the same. The drawing shows me smiling with my arms wide open. I didn't think about it as I was drawing it; I was really trying to keep my left hand steady (I am right handed). But, subconsciously, that is how I see myself. I'm smiling because I'm happy; because I have a reason to smile. My arms are open because I'm open. I want everything that life has to hand me. And I'll gladly accept the good with the bad with a big smile and arms wide open.

       "Jesus loves me this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones, to Him, belong. They are weak but He is strong." Dozens of tiny voices resound together, singing the anthem of the Sunday morning preschool class. The little girl with red curly hair and big green eyes is singing as loud as she can. The words are so simple but she doesn't quite understand them yet. She's five years old, she has a baby brother and her mother will be making grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. Bed time is always at eight o'clock and her daddy will kneel down beside her bed. He will close his eyes and ask Jesus to give her good dreams. That is her life. Jesus has been in her life every day. She sings Bible songs while riding her car seat, she prays with daddy every night before bed and she gets to play with all of the other kids at church. Yes, Jesus does love her. But He won't become everything to her until later. Mom and dad won't be able to kiss every hurt to make them go away. Years from now, that little girl will still be there, but she will then understand fully, the words to "Jesus Loves Me".

       She'd been with me since my very first Christmas. The only way I know that is by the picture my mother still keeps of me, sitting in my dad's lap on the floor by the tree, holding her close. I was nearly a year old and she was not much smaller than I. The poor thing went without a name for the first few years of living with me. A few years down the line she was christened, Karolina. I named her because my best friend at the time was from North Carolina. Well, to a four year old, Carolina was the most beautiful name in the world. Her name became spelled with a "K" after I began to learn to spell. I still cannot spell to this day. She was a faithful friend, no question. But I wore the poor girl out. When I was six, my mother had to sew her torso back together and when I was eleven Karolina was beheaded by my five year old brother. She has a place in my past; she's part of every memory. But to this day I still don't know what my brother did with her head.

        I'm struggling; fighting to break away. I've been caught so many times by a trap I never allowed myself to see. Here I am again, wondering how I got here, unable to break free. I'm tangled in a web of my own making. Like a spider casts a web for her prey, so do my poor choices create a web for me. I always know, subconsciously, that I shouldn't set my course in that direction, but somehow I still manage to blind myself to the outcome. I walk into traps so easily and then I wonder how I got there. But I always know. I as the questions to which I already know the answer. I cry for help with the full knowledge that none but myself have to ability to release me.