Discoloration

my finger is discolored where my ring usually sits
a green that shows how often it is worn
when taken off it leaves a stain
to remind me
where it once sat

my finger is discolored where my ring used to sit
before everything changed and fell apart
pushed out the door
and far away
he took the ring with him

my finger is discolored where my ring used to sit
before the betrayal that rocked my world
unfaithful and untrue
heartbroken
the ring was thrown away

my finger is discolored where my ring used to sit
before the world changed

PAD Day 21

Leaving is a Reason

She left the note on the table and walked away

Out that door she’d walked out so many times before

And she smiled

He read the note, and what it had to say

He’d refused to hear it so many times before

And he cried

Because sometimes leaving is the reason

That they are finally able to see

Because sometimes leaving has a season

And they weren’t meant to last, truly

She saw the sky in a whole new light

She was alone and finally could spread her wings

And she smiled

He sat in the living room with his internal fight

He had to deal with all of her things

And he cried

Because sometimes leaving is a reason

For us to find who we’re meant to be

Because sometimes leaving is a season

Where we all find a way to be free

He got out of town, took a trip away

He finally let go of what held him down

And he smiled

She reached out her hand, a heart starting to sway

She watched him as he drove out of town

And she cried

Because sometimes leaving is a reason

For us to finally be whom we are

Because sometimes leaving is the season

Where we leave the road we’ve followed so far

She left him behind because she couldn’t stay

The good had fled and all was pain

And she cried

He had opened the door and showed her the way

Though he hadn’t meant to give her pain

And he cried

And sometimes leaving isn’t a reason

It’s a result of fighting so long

And sometimes leaving comes with the season

Because the love just wasn’t that strong

And sometimes leaving is a reason

For ending what hurt so much

And she thinks that leaving at the season

Makes it easier when she misses his touch

And sometimes leaving is the reason to leave

And sometimes the season follows them out

And sometimes it’s time, and it’s easy to grieve

And sometimes you want to run after and shout

And sometimes you want to bring them back

And tell them the real reason

“I love you”

Unrequited

We are all lost
We are all wandering
In our souls, we tread forgotten ground
The sky is great, the sand is dark
We stumble, we try, we trudge ever onward
The only color from our souls themselves

Sometimes from far away it seems
We see a soul that is familiar
In an unexplainable way
And we wave, we shout, we holler
But they do not turn
They simply start to walk away
So we follow, because we must know
If their soul is the one we're looking for

And we feel like needy children, forever shouting 

"Love me, love me!"

But we cannot stop, because we must know

But no matter how fast we run, how high we jump

It's never enough to catch up
They are always too far to hear us or to see
But if they could, would they think we were familiar
As they are to us?

And eventually we give up

They are too far away
Or perhaps they have met another soul
And you can see that there is no room for you there
Or perhaps you meet them and understand
They cannot be who you thought they were
And perhaps they never were

The first is worst, of course
You forever carry the memory of their shining soul
And wonder at the lost potential
The second is sad
For watching their attention be bestowed on another
After all the effort you made
That is sadness
The third is heartbreak
Feeling lied to and deceived
When really you fooled yourself

We souls walk this desolate ground alone
Searching for someone to share the loneliness with

Skepticism

Skepticism.

I don't get it.

I'm also a born optimist.

And terribly tenacious when it comes to wanting something that I have no chance of getting.

It seems that sometimes bad experiences make people so jaded that they forget what good there is in the world. (Or they see the world for what it really is. I choose to not believe that is true.)

But my bad experiences haven't done that.

Whether it be friends, family, romantic relationships, horrible world tragedies, abuse, dumb laws like making weed legal in Colorado, whatever, I cannot be skeptical. I can't.

I tried once, for a few days. It was horrible.

Why do people feel that way? Do they choose it? Are they born with a predisposition for skepticism? Is it possible to experience so much that it just occurs, and I'm just sheltered? (The sheltered part isn't a question)

That sounds horrible.

I think it might be the third option. I really do. And I just haven't had enough heartbreak to really be skeptical. But honestly, I can feel it growing.

But it's not skepticism about the existence of love or the goodness of people. It's more like a belief that it's something to do with me- that something about the way I relate to the world makes it impossible for me to have a romantic relationship. Or even a really close friendship. I seem to push people away sometimes. And I'm never the one they go to first with their secrets. Which is sad, because if nothing else, I can listen.

And it's not a self esteem struggle, not really.

Oh well. This post is not about my problems with how I see myself either. But I do wonder if it's part of why I'm not skeptical yet. So many of my experiences with people have ended badly, or have had negative effects on my life. And I wonder if my view that it's something to do with me and not them has contributed to my thoughts that the world is still an essentially good place.

My theory is that insecurity is keeping me from skepticism.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place. That phrase is suddenly much more meaningful.

Can't I, can't we, deny both of them? Can't we all just be confident and optimistic?

That's what I want most of all, for everyone on this earth. Confidence and optimism. Both, not one or the other. I want an idealistic world. The kind of place where people are kind and loving and everyone supports everyone else, and everybody has a place and can be confident. And there's no unrealistic expectations, and the fact that I wear t shirts and jeans instead of dressing up, and that I keep my hair in braids and ponytails that take maybe two minutes rather than elaborate hairdos that take hours. I want it to be okay that there is no "typical" when it comes to style, hair, or humanity in general.

Basically I'm that little kid that's crying in the corner. "Can't everyone just get along?"

But can't we?

Dear May

This letter is a bit overdue.

You hurt me you know. Pretty bad. There were a lot of things wrong in our relationship. And we both knew we were never gonna make it. I'm sorry to have ended it earlier, but it was right. Had I waited much longer, I might not have had the strength to do it, with all that happened in the next few weeks.

We weren't perfect. And I know some of the time, you mistreated me, but I did return the favor, in a way. The more you griped and blamed and complained, the less I tried. It was always my fault anyway, you see, that we couldn't spend every minute of every day together. It didn't matter if I had other plans, or things that needed done, or that I had to play for the gas it took to drive out to meet you. I was never trying hard enough for you, and so I stopped trying. That killed anything we had, both the way you blamed me and the way I stopped trying.

I truly did care for you though. You helped me understand myself, and what I really want in my life. You helped me see who I was. I'll miss that. I'll miss your jokes, your smiles, your sweetness. I'll miss the times we had to work through things and we did. I'll miss how you saw me, because you saw the most of the real me. Well not anymore, but at the time, it was true that you'd seen the most of me.

But I won't miss the complaining. I won't miss the lies or the broken promises. I won't miss how you broke my heart at the same time you loved it. You made me maybe two promises, and you broke them both. They may not have been important to you, but they were to me. And you promised.

In hindsight, I can see all the warning signs that should have pushed me away from any romantic involvement with you. But hindsight is always 20/20 isn't it? And love is truly blind. I only saw the you that I wanted to see- the you I met for real a little over a year ago. The you that was perfect for me. But so much of that was a disguise. It hurts to find out that someone isn't who you think they are.

We had our ups and downs, and in the end we just didn't fit together. I'm sorry. I'll forever miss what we had but I'm moving on. I have moved on. Goodbye, my May.

Erin

This post is sort of a sequel to an old one- Vulnerability.

See The World

What do you do when you see the world differently?

This has been on my mind a lot recently. Mostly because I'm realizing more and more that I see the world differently than most people around me, in ways that make it easier and harder to interact with them.

Recently I broke up with someone who turned out to be not quite the person I thought they were. They weren't as "good" as I'd pictured them to be. They had darkness that should've pushed me away long ago, but didn't, because of how I saw them, how I see the world, and people in general.

Not as recently, I realized that I really get along with anyone and everyone. I can be friends with everyone, but not always best friends. This also comes from how I see the world. It's both a good thing and a bad thing.

The question lies in, inherently, the way I see people.

When I look at people, meet people, I tend to see the best in them. To see their good side and sometimes even ignore their bad side. This allows me to get along with anyone on a basic level. Good, right?

Yet the same has caused me pain. As a human being, I crave love, affection, trust, given and taken. I crave that deep interaction with people and yet it's rare that I get close enough to someone to trust them that much. I believe it is because of how I see people. As essentially good. Because I ignore their faults when I see my own so clearly. Because I don't give enough.

It also causes trouble because by ignoring faults, I can and have allowed myself to deeply trust people who never should have seen that much of me. That is what happened recently. I ignored all warning signs and let myself get close to someone who ultimately was not as good as I believed.

So what do you do with someone who sees the world this way, as inherently good, pure, innocent? I've had people coddle me. I've had people disillusion me, or try to. Yet nothing has changed.

I see the world at its best. I see the good side of people, until the darker part is too large to ignore. Still, I don't know if I can believe that some of my friends might do drugs. Or look at porn. Or break rules. Or hurt people or hate people or judge them. Or I believe and subsequently ignore it, I'm not sure.

Is it good or bad that I see the way I do? Because though I see it this way, I also see its brokenness. I see the places I would patch, change for the better. I know my ideal world, and I want to bring my dream and reality together. So how can how I see the world be so bad?

But it hurts people too. It hurt someone I cared for deeply. It hurts me, often. More often than perhaps even I realize. So how could it be good? But I do believe it's good. Isn't it the pain that makes us human?

Child's Fingers

When I grasp my hands together tightly, fingers interlaced, they feel small. And fragile. I open them and raise them above my face. They have childlike proportions-very small, short fingers, though the long nails help them look older. They are a child's hands, a little girl grasping for attention. "Mommy, mommy!" As I look, I see my truest weakness and deepest desire-to be loved. I have only ever wanted to be loved, to feel cherished by those I care for so deeply. You'd never know though. I'm good at hiding what I feel. On the outside, I am collected, mature. But within, a child, desperately grasping at her loved ones, hoping for affection and not knowing how to show the love she feels. It's not very fair to expect so much and give so little-does that make me bad? No, I hope. Just young. Young and growing in a world that offers the opposite of what she needs. And though she has two Fathers to guide her, a mother, church leaders, still she rebels for the sake of love. But she is strong enough to end it when the one she gave all to turns out to not be what she needs. The pain is deep but she's growing, I hope. And maybe on the day when love isn't all her focus, she'll find it. She'll learn to really express it. She'll grow up. And though she'll always have a child's hands, at least she won't be a child inside.

Rain

There's beauty in the rain
There's beauty in her pain
A rhythmic soothing beating
On the drum of the earth
The drum of her soul
Rhythm like nature's heartbeat
Beating for her
Until her heart beats again
Droplets of tears and rain
Watering barren ground
Until green grows again

Heartbreak

To leave
To be left
It all hurts
To need to leave
To have to part
Also hurts
The missing hurts
The absence of what was
Awkward hurts
Talking about it
Crying alone
Still hurts
Remembering and wanting
Hurt most of all
What's past cannot be touched
And wanting to touch it
Is unbearable
But eventually it will pass
Or so I hope
Like a rainstorm
So dark and fierce
A heart starts to beat again
Blip... Blip...
Spikes on a machine
And healing begins

Unappreciated

I was recently told that I'm really really bad at opening up, that they felt unappreciated by me. Looking at myself, I do suppose it might be true. But this same person has recently inspired in me feelings of being trapped and underappreciated myself. As well as having betrayed my trust multiple times before. It was a wonder I was still close to this person, I suppose, but he was- is?- my best friend, and recently more than that but no longer.

What is it to be unappreciated? To feel unwanted, to feel unloved? Or just neglected? I believe it to be any of those and all three, but also to be something else.

Do you ever think that sometimes people expect too much? I do. They want more than you can give, time, money, love. I recently watched an episode of The Mentalist (great show) where a girl killed her sister and framed someone else. This girl, Lindsay if I recall correctly, thought that now the way was open for the man who loved her sister to fall in love with her. Her unrealistic expectations caused a lot of grief and in fact, and most importantly, caused her to feel....take a guess...unappreciated.

Usually it doesn't happen on such a large scale. Sometimes it's just that simple expecting of someone you care about, expecting them to give more than they can, and when they don't live up to that, blaming them for not trying hard enough. Having those expectations can easily make a person feel unappreciated when that could have simply accepted what they were given with joy, realizing that the other did not have to give anything and in some cases shouldn't have.

The unappreciated feelings, however, run rampant on both sides of this equation. What about the person whom these expectations were placed on? Who struggles under the weight of trying to meet them, when their every effort is responded to with "not good enough," what about them? Like a spoiled child thrust into poverty and the mother who tries to feed him, that's how it feels. You give all you can from where you are and are rewarded with temper tantrums, bowls of carefully bought food spilled and scattered because it's "not good enough." To be there feels like taking a hammer to a glass replica of your soul and this person stepping up to say "let me help." And they hammer you to pieces with the weight of your failure to meet their expectations, your inability to give them what they want.

Sometimes though, expectations are realistic. Sometimes the other person isn't trying. The key to knowing, I suppose, is careful evaluation of both people, their efforts and expectations.

Feeling unappreciated is a genuine thing, and it hurts. It doesn't matter which side of it you're on. I know it, having felt it myself. I left because I felt trapped and unappreciated, because I looked at the situation and it was wrong. Even then, it hurts. I gave someone everything and broke myself on their expectations because it wasn't enough. It hurts but it was right, and I don't regret it. Someday it will work out. Someday it will be worth pushing through. I have faith in that.

Vulnerability

This post is so honest I can't believe I'm posting it. Hello world, here's my heart, don't break it please.

I read a blog recently that assigned numbers to the men she'd cared for. Mine are not numbers, but months. I needed to write this. It's like therapy, isn't it, writing.

This is one of my greatest fears. This post. Actually, more like two. The fear of giving too much of myself and the fear of showing others how unsure I really am. How much I have left to figure out. I'm stalling here, writing this. Maybe you'll get bored and not finish reading it. No? Okay.

To my January
We had a fun time, didn't we. The two of us, though sometimes I wonder if you really ever cared or if you just wanted to. You were way too old for me, and I still wonder to this day why you were attracted to me at all, a stupid, immature 16-year-old girl who thought she had beaten her insecurity because you lifted her up.

You did help pull me out of that dark place, those horrible insecurities, the crushing sense that I'd never be enough, the feeling that I should end it all now, before I did irreparable damage to this world I love so dearly. However, relying on you was never the right way. I never even really knew you, but I knew how you made me feel, and little-girl-me thought that would be enough. Even though we barely saw each other. Even though we only talked over Facebook because of my lack of a phone. Or I borrowed a friend's phone, a friend that had known you far longer than I had.

I remember one time you walked to my house to let me borrow a book for AP English. You brought your dog, and we just talked for an hour or two, sitting on the grass. We never even really touched- you never reached for my hand, I never got to lean against you.

One time, I was fed up with my home life. I messaged you and we walked to Sonic and got ice cream. One time, we met up at the park. We always just talked, about silly stuff, about fun stuff. But we barely saw each other for real, except for these few times.

I remember Valentine's Day. Lunch at the Asia Inn. I had shrimp. You brought me flowers and a purple octopus, from an inside joke I barely remembered. I kept him around. His name is Sir.

Then it just ended. My family took a media holiday before I had the chance to tell you, and when I got back on, you were distant. You were cold. And slowly, you stopped responding to my messages. For a while it was simply pleasantries. And then that stopped as well. I have the book you let me borrow, I said. Nothing. Please come take it back, I said. I know you saw the messages (Facebook is a stalker, yeah?) but you never replied and I'm not sure why. And on Thanksgiving, I sent you a letter, about how grateful I was for what you'd been to me. I was over it, long over it, but I wish it had ended better than getting blocked from messaging you again. We died slowly, didn't we, an improbable flame sputtering in the gutter. And though we never would have worked out, though I'm long over you, sometimes, I still find myself searching for that resolution, for that final "this is done" that you denied me so many times.

I still have your book.

To my February
You. Where do I start? You never knew the depth of my feelings for you. It was immensely hard, not to tell you, but it wasn't me you wanted- it was my friend. And after everything, I still think you two would be perfect together, even if you end up as "the best couple who never dated" in the yearbook. It was hard, having to content myself with being your friend. We're still friends, to this day, thank goodness, and you're one of the best people I know. I don't think you ever saw me that way, but either way, you taught me so much.

You were, I think, the first person I ever really truly cared for- no stupid infatuation, no simple crush, and if anything, that made it worse for me. Though being your friend somehow was enough. Enough, but never enough, in a weird contradictory way.

I have so many memories. So many conversations. So few souvenirs from the times we've spent. A couple pictures, and the memories in my mind. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

All those times backstage during the plays-remember the mote and the beam? The picture of you with those glasses that we probably shouldn't have been messing with, seeing as they were a prop. Driving to the gas station, accidentally driving back with the emergency brake on. The long letters on the posters- I still re-read them sometimes, and laugh. You could always make me laugh.

Someday you'll make a great husband for a great woman, probably a girl we've neither of us met. Someday you'll be famous, you'll change the world. Thank you for the time we spent, no matter how you saw me during that time. What we had, what we have, my friend, that is enough for me.

To my August
I don't know what happened with you. I don't know why we were ever anything. Oh, wait, I do. You pushed so hard. You were my first kiss, and all I knew about you was your name and that you played in the band at your high school. But we got along alright, holding hands that first night, sitting outside the church dance when I got sick to my stomach.

Our story is simple. Co-chairs of the Youth Committee. I knew almost everyone, but I'd never met you. We barely spoke before that night, within the meetings, and especially outside them. I knew nothing about you but what ward you were in. Which is, coincidentally, now February's ward. (Geez, just let me completely give away who everyone is. But this is good. This will be good for me.) At the night of the youth conference dance, you somehow always ended up nearby. And I made you laugh. We danced, you pulled me close, and you were my first kiss. Right then, with hardly any warning.

I hardly knew you, and now I wonder why I didn't stop you from taking so much from me. I opened my front door, and you wanted straight to the bedroom, pardon the analogy. I liked the way it made me feel, to have someone to kiss, to hold, but I came to my senses soon enough. It was easy to tell you no after that, easy to stop you. It lasted maybe a month, I think.

I still see you every now and then. I'll spot you, and I'll wonder, what are you doing now? And then I realize I don't really care about you anymore, I care about the memory of the way you made me feel.

I saw you a while later with another girl. I wonder if you're doing to her what you did to me. It broke my heart a little, but not a whole lot, because I realized you aren't the kind of guy I should have serious feelings about anyway. Not a total jerk, which is honestly how I felt for the first few months after it happened. But not worth that much of my heart- sorry.

To my May
Oh, May. My May. Perhaps you'll guess who you are. I know you have read my blog before. But will you see yourself in my words? It's always been a struggle not to give you too much. Nearly a year now, I've cared for you. You were the opposite of August, not pushing too hard, taking what I was willing to give and being okay with it. Not to say you haven't asked for more, and I've said no. But you listened and respected that, which meant so much.

You once wrote me the story of the way we were. I think this might be my version in return. I'm not sure I want you to read this at all, actually. You know what, stop right here. (I know you won't. Wishful thinking)

Gradually this year, you worked your way deeper into my heart than any before. (This will give away who you are if nothing else does). You're my best friend (see?) and I trust you more than I thought I could. I am comfortable around you, physically, mentally, emotionally. You've been a shoulder to cry on. You've seen me stressed, angry, sad, tired (read: loopy), depressed, happy, joyful, eager, in more ways than anyone ever before. You've always been there, and I feel like I know you too, the way I hope you know me. I know the curve of your smile, the feel of your hands, the sound of your laugh, and the way you are when you're sad or tired. I know when you want to kiss me by the way your heart beats in your throat. I wonder if you'll regret letting me have so much of you someday. At least I was your first kiss, though I can't be your last.

I never wanted to hurt you but inevitably, that's what I'll do, and I'm sure you know it too. There's no way around it.

I've said it before that I didn't want a high school relationship. I've said it so many times, posted about it, thought it to death. I've instead said to you "Wait until I graduate." But, now, I'm not sure I can even give you that. I'm not sure it would be right, nor would it be fair to you. Heck, even what I've given you may have been too much. Thinking about it is breaking me in places I didn't know could break, and I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Being around you feels so right, and we fit together like puzzle pieces, but not the right ones. I know, there's no future in our relationship except for as friends. I know, I'm going away to college in the fall. I'll be on a mission in a year. I know, you're young, and you'll get over me quickly. What I don't know is if I can say no to you again this summer, and it breaks my heart to think about it. But when I think of you, and a future, I know that to make it there you'd have to be someone you're not. And it's you I fell for, and that's the hardest thing, isn't it? That you can at once be my heart's best friend, and my heart's worst enemy. That your choices break my heart and your chances at being a major part of my future.

Where you're concerned, though, I'm weak. I can think about it logically here, in black and white, with a keyboard under my fingertips, but I'm sure when I see you I'll fall again. You're my drug, the thing I don't know how to live without anymore, and I don't know how to just be best friends, and I won't give that up. Even if I can't give you the romantic relationship that I think we both kind of long for, I won't give up my best friend, the person that has been there when no one else was, that I trust completely. I hope you feel the same, and know I'll always be here. I'll be the best friend you ever had. Any further is gray.

We'll see where the future leads, May, though the ending I already know. But the winding path may have a few surprises in its corners before it splits us apart.

Please, please don't judge me too badly on this post. It was what I needed to write, to get my heart in order. Because in the end, I am who I am and that me is wildly unsure

Age of the Heart Growing Up

I'm not at all qualified to say any of this, and I know it. But I think I'll say it anyway, if only to see if I may be right! I'd definitely appreciate a comment one way or the other :)

What age do hearts truly grow up and make that leap between immature and mature, between loving for your benefit, and loving for theirs? For me, it was junior year. The one I fell for first (previously referred to as February) was younger, but definitely an incredible person. However, there was no benefit to me from falling for him. He never reciprocated my feelings beyond that of a friend. To this day, I believe he is in love with one of my best friends, who in turn has a boyfriend. What a mess we all are, huh?

The point is, that was the time that I first truly cared for someone like that beyond for what I thought they could give me. It doesn't mean I was immune to that previous, immature feeling (see August) but it does mean I'd made that leap, and I discovered what it felt like to really love someone. (As I don't think he reads this blog, I feel comfortable posting it. Maybe he'll see it someday and figure it out, maybe he won't).

As I've talked to many of my friends (which are oddly mostly of the male variety) I've seen a pattern. Around the age at which they can drive (16-17) is about the age that the heart seems to make that leap. I'd like to talk to more of them about it, but truly, how awkward would that be? "Hey, what's up? Um, you wanna tell me about the time you first fell in love?" I think for some of my female friends it may have been a little bit younger, but the majority seem to be about the same time. Junior year.

Anyway, I'm not qualified to make any assumptions at all, and I'd love to hear from some other people! Especially stories, if you're comfortable. The stories are always the best part. What age did you first fall in love?

What I would say to my friends in relationships

You don't want to get into this. It's a mess. What you're doing will lead to heartbreak. And it's your heart that will be broken. I know how you feel, "it'll be fine, they're great people" and they are! But at this time in your life there's so much going on that it likely won't last. At this point, we're just in high school (well I'm almost out. But you're not!) So much is changing, especially people. You are risking your heart and your trust on something and someone that ultimately will change, likely drastically.

Don't you know I've been where you are? I know how it is, how strong the emotions are, as well as the chemicals. I know what you want-I wanted it too.

But to fall in high school also means you'll hit bottom. Hard.

Yeah, we're talking heartbreak. Gut-wrenching pain and ages of regret. You're probably thinking that they'd never do that, but you don't know. They may have never intended to, but that's the scary thing about dating is you either get married or break up, and commitment is not a common trend.

It only is worse if your relationship was also physical to any degree. The easiest heartbreak I had was over a relationship that was mostly internet based. Any kind of touch creates a deeper attachment. It's like a bandaid- ever ripped one of those suckers off? The tighter they are stuck, the more it hurts.

Oh and what if they aren't who you think they are? You think they're honest, caring, but if they're looking for loopholes in your standards then they didn't care about you, not as a person. Perhaps as a body. Or as someone to boost their low self-esteem.

That's the other thing, isn't it-do you care about them or do you care that they care about you? This is a trap I fell for. In high school, there's so much insecurity. (There a song that illustrates) Everyone is growing into themselves and everything is changing. Relationships do seem to offer the illusion of stability at an ever-changing time, and a delusion of self-worth, because your significant other loves you right? What happens when you break up? Just because they're good people does not mean they're confident.

High school relationships are never for the right reasons. Never, ever date someone who you only like because you want them to like you. Never date for insecurity, and please for heaven's sake never date for stability-not happening in high school.

It may be nice to hold their hand for a few months (and maybe other stuff, ew) but the end isn't worth it. Only date when you can care about someone for who they are, and when their feelings do not affect your self-esteem. Only date to prepare for marriage, and only date people you trust. Avoid those who pressure you, who put you down, and who can't be independent.

That means wait til college. Please. It is not worth it, I cannot express how not worth it this is. Stay away from anything more than friendship-that's drama enough.

Sincerely,
Someone who cares