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"We build castles with our fears and sleep in them like kings and queens."

-Christopher Poindexter

Jillian's P.O.V:

The outstretched ocean, widespread and majestic. The world seems so wide and terrible. I never really thought I would be here, actually on my way to Bolivia. Never really thought I would go to Greece or Italy or England. I never thought I would do those things, ever. To every gain a loss. I won some and lost others. I space out sometimes, I fill the bulletin in others, and the remaining I smoke. Cecilia was surprised to find me with this unpleasant habit that I picked up while she was gone. She thought it was a bit desperate and a mimic of the 1960s condition of constant smoke. She thought I was imitating the façade of dead poets and writers, but all I was trying to do is inhale a different kind of air. I did try other presumable soothing activities; yoga, reading, walking, horseback riding, kick boxing even. All I got were rashes, saddle sores, and cramps in places I didn't think cramps were even possible. So smoking it is.

"The only good thing about planes right now, is that you can't pollute the air with your smoke."

"Gee Cecilia I won't smoke near you again I promise." I said rolling my eyes.

"It is not that matter that whether it was near me or away from me, it's harmful Jillian. It's not a good change. Not the change you need." She elaborated.

"Well it is the one I have, so back off. If you are on cloud nine, I am on cloud zero. Or come to think of it, not on any cloud currently."

"Oh get over yourself! What is wrong with you? You are being mean, smoking constantly, and rambling crap most of the time. You are upset, I get it! You left him, I get that too! You lost everything, I understand! Those things should force you to look elsewhere...a better place. You have that idea for the clinic, don't give me that face, Kalon told me. It is a fantastic, humane, and compassionate idea. That is you. Don't be the smoking serenade mourning the loss of a man. Believe a person who went through this-drinking instead of smoking."

Her face is unrecognizable. The slender face she had a month ago is now filled. The mouth that was always drawn into two dashes is now a tender smile. Her hair, which was always so brittle and light, now has volume and texture. She was better. She was okay. She was happy, and that reflected to the outside, like a declaration; for all to see.

Cecilia was always a withholder. She was never the kind of person-even before her depression- to reveal her misery or seek sympathy. She kept her problems bottled up and to herself. She never really thought that people should be responsible for the state she was in, so why seek refuge? The same goes to sudden joys in her life, which she believes never last long enough to enjoy. She is a troubled person, but aren't we all?

"Cecilia aren't going to tell me what happened in France?"

"Dear I will. Now isn't the time. I will, eventually."

A secret to a woman's happiness? Success? Sure sometimes. Money? Euphoric for gold-diggers. A closet full of shoes? Of course that goes for every woman. But it is one thing; new-found-where have you been-let's get together- gooey-mushy-I need a smoke- love. It is sickening but nevertheless the truth.

Related to this, I asked my psych teacher once-the lecture was about the subconscious and comparison between men and women- why men are so different than women emotionally; why we show it and they conceal it, why are we so outspoken when it comes to declaring it? Why do we suffer (in most cases) more after a breakup? Why we are more attached to them then they are to us (in most cases)? I wanted to know why someone who said the most beautiful declaration I have ever heard suddenly become so emotionally mute. She started explaining that anatomical differences between the sexes contribute to such difference in giving and receiving certain emotions. Then she started with the way women think and the way men think, that each sex has different...interests. She didn't give me my answer, she just said stuff I am already aware of. Yet she couldn't give me what I needed to hear; why are men and women so different? Why are we more emotionally responsible?

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