Grandma Rose  
 Tears immediately rolled down my eyes as I marched right back upstairs. My feelings were hurt. My grandmother never showed sympathy towards me when it came to Carmelo. It really made me sad the more I thought about it. I never understood why she showed favoritism. I went into my room, laid on my bed and cried a silent cry. Life was difficult for me. I remember when my mother was alive she’d always allow me to lay on her lap while she rubbed my forehead whenever things got tough. I was still trying to understand these different mood swings that I would experience on a daily basis. I always felt like the outsider, the different one of the bunch, the girl who didn’t matter, the drama queen and the person I needed most wasn’t there. Grandma Rose was a sweetheart but she treated me like a baby. I was grateful for her but I couldn’t understand her lack of sympathy. She was such a strong willed woman but slightly aggressive.
                   She was a beautiful older aged woman and was very independent. Although she was retired, she was in good shape and kept herself up. She hardly ever bit her tongue and was quite outspoken. It threw people off sometimes because they viewed her as their elder but I was used to her being that way. She told us many stories about her childhood. She always reminded us that when life got hard she dealt with it instead of complaining. There was a mysterious side to her. She was open about many things but I knew there was something that she kept inside that not too many people knew about. She’d often daydream or would have distant stares. And sometimes she’d go in her room and wouldn’t want us to bother her and I’d hear her weeping late at night. While living with her I was forced to be tough even at times when I wanted to give up. It hurt. It was hard living in a world where no one understood. No one felt what I felt and no one tried to understand.
Lupus was hard. It was evil and destroying my inner being. I had to put a stop to it someway, somehow. I just didn’t know how. But I knew if I didn’t do something soon, that it’d destroy every piece of me. Soon as my tears started to dry up, Carmelo stuck his head in the doorway and said, “I’m finished crybaby” He had a mischievous smirk on his face. I knew my brother loved me, but he also loved to pick on me and make me miserable. It was hard to deal with. I felt like I needed support from him and my grandmother but I just didn’t know how to ask. I stood up silently and walked back to the restroom to finish my shower. Afterwards I went downstairs silently, ate my breakfast silently, and took my medicine silently. The entire time during breakfast, Carmelo spoke his usual. He bragged about his athletic abilities while Grandma Rose entertained the conversation with her attention. It made me jealous sometimes and I knew my grandmother could tell that something bothered me but she never gave my feelings too much attention. Carmelo was so mean to me sometimes but I knew he cared. He looked over at me with guilt in his eyes. “Cheer up buttercup, you know the plumbing in my restroom is under construction and I didn’t take that long using yours. Here you go, have the last cinnamon roll and give us a morning smile.” He said gracefully. Sometimes I thought my brother was bi-polar because he would always show me two different sides of himself. I saw his mean side and his sweet side. It was always a mixture of both, never one over the other. I gave him half of a smirk and a frown at the same time. “I’ll even wash the dishes, so you won’t have to.” He said suspiciously. I knew he only did this to stay on Grandma Rose’s good side but at this point it didn’t bother me because I really didn’t want to wash dishes.
“Alright you two, let’s get out of here. You both know I don’t like to be late. Carmelo those dishes can wait until after church.” said Grandma Rose. We all grabbed our jackets and headed out the door.

The following poem is called, "MY BATTLE WITH LIFE” It comes from my current available poetry book.

MY BATTLE WITH LIFE

I’m always in a constant fight
Day in, day out I battle with life.
I feel like I’m battling with no shield
Confused about an illness and learning to deal.
How do you win a battle against yourself?
I’ll choose another hardship; this one belongs on the shelf.
I never really win, it’s like I constantly lose.
It’s hard when there aren’t any available options to choose.
Sometimes I think maybe it’s all just a dream
Or a curse that’s temporarily consuming me.
How do I fight a battle in which I have no control?
A battle against myself with no restrictions or goals.
My main focus staying alive;
And a permanent strategy on how to survive.
This illness has no sympathy, no sorrow no remorse.
No lessons on how to win, no classes no course.
As my days go on I constantly learn
To be patient for good days until it’s my turn.
I wonder if lupus attacks out of spite.
Just to prevent me from winning this fight.
Whatever it is it doesn’t seem right
To be involved in a constant battle with my life.