adults

I am extremely tired of trying to deal with life in the adult world. I am thankful for my everyday issues and the happenings of each new adventure, but I must say that I am truly confused by what I can only assume is human nature. Why must adults always act as though they have no clue about life. I spend a fair amount of time with children and have found that their dealings with the heavy issues makes so much more sense.

Rather than beat around the bush, I will simply get to the point. I don't understand some of my co-workers when they act out in angry, teenage-like gestures. I don't understand when people say that they are being supportive and then turn and walk away. I literally had someone come on chat today and tell me that if I felt like talking he/she is a good listener. I started typing my response and this person signed off. What was that?!

At this point in time I prefer eleven-year-olds. Simplicity Simplicity Simplicity!

Days like today and posts like this make me glad that no one reads this blog. I just need to vent and publish.

The children who go unnoticed

I am a CASA, a Court Appointed Special Advocate. I consider this role a blessing and a curse. I hate that I have to do someone else's job. I hate that I have to watch these children go unnoticed by so many people that are supposed to care for them. It breaks my heart and crushes my soul to see the oldest boy in my case fake laughter to please the adults around him. I hate seeing someone so young look so hopeless, lifeless, and altogether empty.

When I am not being bitter, I think to myself that maybe, just maybe, I can be of some help to these children. I can help them be noticed by someone; maybe not a very important someone, but someone nonetheless. These children are, in part, the inspiration for my blog title. I am fighting for them to be fearless. I want them to live a life of fearlessness. It may not happen, but I can try.

I am far FAR from a poet, but sometimes when I write down my thoughts, they flow in a poetic nature. This is what I wrote the first time I met the oldest boy in my case.

He walks down the stairs in bare feet
Unsure of the questions that lie ahead
Mistrust mistaken for shyness
An unknown entity writing all he’s said

Traveling down a path of memories and lies
With quiet and unsure responses
Tip toeing through nameless places
Not wanting to burn bridges