part 1

    His eyes flash with anger, "You don't know...you don't know! So much has happened to me, I-I've done so much to myself! I have a right to be angry!"
    "Of course you don't." She replies curtly.
    He stomps towards her. She glances down; both of his fists are clenched, knuckles white. He stops, just a few inches before her face. "Really? I don't?" he puffs up his chest. There is fire in his eyes.
    But her icy stare extinguishes the flames. She is obviously not intimidated. He deflates. His fists unclench; his face relaxes. A sad, almost vulnerable demeanor washes over him.
    "I-...it j-just hurts so much sometimes..." he says, his voice shaking. He looks up, eyes brimming with tears, and is met with her unchanging cold stare. He blinks the tears away angrily, trying to will the fiery rage to return; he feels nothing. He turns and walks slowly to the corner. He slides down the wall and buries his face in his hands.
    Silence, for what seems like ages. Then, she walks over to his corner; she slides down the wall next to him. She looks at her hands for a moment, then blankly across the room. She speaks, her words like an icy wind, piercing all of his exposed, vulnerable parts.
    "Pain can make you selfish. Pain can make you a coward. Pain can make you mean. Pain can make you bitter. Pain can make you hardhearted. Pain can make you numb. Pain can make you broken."
    She shifts around uncomfortably, clears her throat, and looks down. Her voice changes, the coldness melting away.
    "But...pain can also make you selfless. Pain can make you brave; pain can make you kind and grateful and softhearted and compassionate and...and pain can make you healed."
    He looks over at her. Did he hear...emotion in her voice? She raises her eyes to meet his. There are tears streaming slowly down her cheeks.
    "It sounds like you know a lot about this kind of stuff..." he says slowly, softly.
"Yeah," she lets a quiet, sarcastic laugh escape, "unfortunately I do."
    He takes a strand of her soft chestnut hair and rubs it gently between his thumb and forefinger, "Do you...speak from experience?" he asks carefully, looking up at her. He knows the answer.
    She looks down again, trying to fight back tears. Unable to speak, she nods slowly.
    He wraps her in his arms. "I'm sorry, I am so so sorry..." he chokes out, stroking her hair gently.

 "I forgive you," she whispers.

A Dreadful Case of Wanderlust

  I want to adventure. I don't just want it, actually. I crave it, I desire it, and for the sake of my sanity, I need it. In a world like this, no human on earth has the right to be "bored". I want to travel the beautiful world and experience everything it has to offer. I want to do crazy things with amazing people. 
   This world contains so much, why would it even be logical to follow a mold, to stay in one place and do one average thing you're "supposed" to do? I don't want normal, boring, average, or "supposed to".
   But how do I get out there? How do I travel and adventure and meet amazing people? I want to experience and do things to where I could tell my stories a million times before anyone believed them. I don't want to just "get through" life, I want to live it. I don't want to get to the end of it and have nothing to say except, “I wish I had...". 
   I know you must “sail away from the safe harbor” to know adventure, but I don't even know if I've made it to the harbor yet. Do we all start at the harbor, and then are we left with the decision to sail or to be safe? 
   I want and desire adventure so much; it seems so beautiful and lovely. But it is also confusing to me. Maybe there are things I must learn before I can adventure...but I thought that's what adventure is about, learning things along the way...