Thursday, October 22, 2009

Heroes in America

Are there still heroes in America? That depends on a person’s definition of a hero. Some people believe that a hero is someone who saves a city an wears colorful spandex. Others believe that a hero is a political leader that leads a country out of a depression. Some think it’s a religious god who watches over you silently. In that case, there never were heroes in America. People like me believe that a hero is someone who is a positive role model or guardian of the community, in which case there are thousands of heroes in America.
If my house was on fire and I was stuck in it and a firefighter came in to rescue me I would consider that person a hero. Firefighters risk their lives everyday for the well being of strangers in the community. They don’t even look for the reward that they deserve. They just figure they are doing their job. Think about the amount of courage you would need in order to run into a burning building to save a person that you have never even laid eyes on. Firefighters are true heroes in America.
Police officers risk being shot and killed everyday just to make the streets safer for little boys and girls who are taught to hate them. Many families in the cities of America teach their young to hate and fear police. The police are the same people who look after young girls and the elderly. They are the same people who go undercover to bust a drug dealer who is selling to a fourteen year old boy. They constantly put themselves on the line and are never congratulated by the community. Police officers are true heroes in America.
Barack Obama, Hilary Clinton, and Oprah Winfrey are some of the many well educated people in the United States; how did think they get that way? The many teachers and professors in America are how they managed to bring out their intelligence. Teachers never recieve the credit they deserve. They persuade and teach all the young minds in America to be more intelligent and morally sound people. Teachers (especially the ones in the intercity schools) deal with so much ignorance but never fold and continuously mold all the young people. Teachers are true heroes in America.
In my school alone, I have encountered countless people who want to join the military and enter this war. Soldiers are constantly referred to as heroes but there is a reason behind this. They are heroes. They are over in distant places fighting for a freedom that was never threatened to begin with. Even though they are not technically in America, they are still Americans so it applies to them too. The people in the United States military are true heroes in America.
A hero by definition is a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities. There are plenty of heroes left in America. Some old, some young, some black ,some white. They are all heroes and they should be applauded for their good deeds.

Moving Forward

"Are you ok?" asked Alexis. I couldn’t stand her so with an attitude I said, "Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?" Sensing my hostility, she replied, "I just assumed since Logan got shot, you wouldn’t be here." My heart stopped. My mind went completely blank. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Was he dead? Just hurt? My first thought was its not true. But as I walked into Latin and Logan wasn’t there waiting to give me a hug like usual I realized that she might be right. A lump formed in my throat and my body went icy. Something was wrong.
On my way home, I felt my phone murmur in my pocket. "Hello?" It was Logan’s mom, Mrs. Arnett. "Hey baby." She sounded so sad. Her voice cracked and her usually warm and inviting tone had turned cold. "Raven, I love you…" "I love you too Mrs. Arnett. What’s up?" I asked apprehensively. "Logan was killed. Raven, he was in the back of a car selling drugs and the man shot him in the face once, the chest twice and the legs twice." She was crying violently. I just dropped the phone. I felt water well inside my eyes. I lost control of my emotions. At that moment, I was miserable, livid, nervous, and terrified.
"Logan, I hate that you do that! Every time I’m hurt. I can’t lose you. You center my world. Stop! Please Stop!" I yelled, practically begging." Ok, raven. I’m done. I won’t do it anymore. I love you. I promise. I’m done." He hugged me and just held me there. I felt so safe. I was understood. He cared enough to stop. That meant more to me than anything else in the world.
Three fucking days later, Logan was dead. There were so many questions that I just couldn’t get out my mouth. Who did it? Why? What happened? I thought he was done? Why my best friend? Anger was my first experienced emotion. He promised. He hurt me. It’s selfish but I was so mad at him. I hated him. He fucking hurt me. He didn’t give a damn about me. I would yell and scream just to vent my anger. It felt like he intentional died just so he would hurt me.
After a few long weeks of pure rage, it grew to sadness. Logan was gone. It’s like a massive chunk of my heart was ripped out and I would never get it back. Darkness seemed to take over my life. I didn’t care about anyone else. Fuck everybody else. Nobody was Logan. Nobody.
"Raven, tell what your feeling." This therapist would never shut up. She was the most annoying creature that god put on this earth. If I didn’t want to talk to my mom, why would I talk to this woman who knew nothing about me? I hated her and she constantly referred to me as depressed. I wasn’t depressed. I was just kind of sad that my best friend died. "I’m not feeling anything." This was always my answer. I’m sure she got annoyed with it at some point but I don’t really care.
Honestly, I really wasn’t feeling anything. My body was numb. My mind was always somewhere else. I just went through the motions of life. School, cheerleading, and home, this was my life. I was never fully alert. Words never came out right and thoughts were never fully executed verbally. The worst thing was when people would ask me that god awful question, "Are you ok?" Just leave me the hell alone! Let me deal with this on my own. I’m a big girl. Let me do this by myself. Asking questions about will make it worse.
I loved Logan. He made me understand that being myself is enough. He left me. He has already missed four years of my life and he is going to miss so much more. He was the only person who understood me. As time has past, I have encountered more people who will be there for me in Logan’s absence but nobody will ever replace him. He will always be special in my heart. I think I’ve come to deal the pain and accept his death but there are still times when I just want to break down and cry because I miss him so much. Logan wouldn’t want that though.
Losing a best friend is harder than, anybody who has been through it, would ever know. It’s like half of your body is gone and there is nothing you can do about it. A hole in your heart that will never be filled. Logan is gone and will never come back but he is in my heart and will always be there. Hopefully he is looking over me and laughing because of how bad I want to cuss at him right now. We have a special bond that will never be broken. I love him and I always will.

Saturday, September 26, 2009


So i totally have a blog now! How exciting is that lol!