Entry:

Most people remember their youth to be a joyous experience, but I don't. I remember my tenth birthday. I didn't have any friends to invite, so it was going to be a family gathering. Instead of the pink, fluffy cake and all the wonderful presents, I had a bowl of melted, strawberry ice cream and a deck of cards. Your parents were probably enjoying this moment just as much as you were and noise makers went off, and it was just a great party. My parents fought. My mom threw stuff at my dad and my dad was yelling at the top of my lungs. I was paralyzed with fear during this. There was nothing to do but watch and get teary-eyed. That's all I did. To be honest, I can't remember one happy moment in my life. But I managed to make things better now, being in the present and the future.

I didn't feel working one night so I went for a walk. As I turned the corner, a man stopped me, and then he asked the strangest thing:

"Will you help me make death tapes?"

"What?"

"Okay, let's start this over. I'm Allan Gordon." he said extending his arm out to me.

"Ellie Nash." I responded and extended my hand towards his.

"I'm dying in two weeks, and I wanted to make these tapes to send to all the people who tormented me. Would you mind filming me?"

"Of course not."

He handed me the video camera and we started filming. I was amazed by what he had to say. In one of the videos, he was yelling at this jock named Will and how he picked on him, grades 3-12. Then there was this girl named Kimberly who invited him up to a hotel room during the prom and she never showed up. He stood there and cursed at these people for about an hour. When he was done, we went to the post office and mailed the tapes. I then headed to a diner.

A business woman sat next to me yelling on her cell phone at someone.

"Tough job?" I asked.

"My colleagues are a pain in the neck. But you know how it is?"

"Actually I don't," I paused for a second, "I'm a prostitute."

She didn't say anything for awhile, but then she said,

"I'm Tara Green. I'm a book editor and publisher."

"Ellie Nash, please to meet you."

"You must have an interesting life?"

"More like horrible life."

"Well maybe you would like to tell me all about it and maybe we could write a book about it."

I was little uneasy about this idea. But then I thought, why not? I have nothing to loose.

"Sure."

"Okay, great! Here's my card. Are you free this Saturday?"

"Yeah. Sure." I sounded still a little unsure.

Saturday rolled around and I headed down to the office.

"Ellie!"

"Hello."

"So, um, you want to get started?"

"Y-ye-yeah sure." Why was I being such a sped?

"So you had a rough life?"

"Rough, now that's the understatement of the year!"

"Did your parents have anything to do with it?"

"Well-"

I stopped myself for a moment. Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy. But I have no reason to be angry. I have no reason to happy. I have no reason to be sad.

"I don't want to make death tapes."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't have a story for you; not yet at least."

With that in mind, I left the office and got a cab.

I drove back to Toronto to visit someone that I finally needed to confront.

"We haven't spoken in four years," The gaping figure stood there in astonishment. "Did you even ever try to contact me? Huh, mom?"

"Ellie, my baby." The woman cried out.

"Mom, don't. I grew up too fast. Once I was born, I became an adult. I picked up the pieces when you fell apart. What did you ever do for me? Make my life hell!" But then I stopped again. "And I just want to thank you for that." I added, not only surprising my mother, but myself as well.

Since I had a such a bad life, I've only become stronger. If it wasn't for my mother being an alcoholic or my father always being away from home, I wouldn't have become the person I am today.

"You came all the way here to tell me that?"

"Yes, because I don't want to make death tapes."

I walked down the steps, almost, almost, what's the word, happy. I grabbed the taxi door and gave the driver one more address. Then, I reached for my phone and called the hospital.

When I reached the next stop, I wasn't sure if I should be there, but I then just let that thought disappear.

Two knocks; no answer.

Two more knocks; and finally an answer.

"I'm getting ultra sound at three o'clock on Wednesday. If you want to be there, here's the name of the hospital." I said reaching into my back pocket.

"Ellie, I don't know what to say. I mean-"

"Then don't say anything." I spun around and headed for the taxi, to be driven back home.

Allan Gordon, I hereby declare you my hero. He's made me realize that I don't want to have all this rage boiling up in me; I just want to live and love life. I love my past. I love my present. I'm not ashamed of what I've had, and I'm not sad because I have it no longer. I'm just glad it won't ever haunt me.

I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves. Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep-- the more you cut, they more you cry.

And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years. Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.