LordOfTheRingsFan

“I was a week away from starting junior high when my mom sat me down to have The Talk. ‘Okay honey, I need to tell you something important. Do you know how babies are made?’ ‘No,’ I responded innocently, curious. ‘This might sound weird, but it happens when boys put their toes into girls’ noses.’ I jerked back, appalled. I was sure I couldn’t’ve heard right. ‘I know it sounds weird, but people often don’t do it just to have babies, they do it just for fun a lot of times, too.’ I was disgusted. ‘How is that fun? That sounds so awful!’ ‘Trust me,R

With him, I am happy. I feel whole and complete and loved and protected and everything a girl needs. I love every single piece of his cracked, beautiful perfection. So sweet, gentle, kind, and his talent goes without mention... but without him, there is only darkness. I'm consumed with fear and anxiety like I've never known. My soul yearns for him to be near always. I'm broken without him. I feel myself being torn apart, terrified and lost... I need him. He heals my frightened heart with his touch. With his smile. I only have to look into his eyes and I'm safe again. Protected. I'll love him the rest of my life...

To be home. To turn on my own shower in my own bathroom and step in. To let the refreshing, icy cold water stream down over my body. To feel the sweat and dirt of two weeks wash away down the drain forever. To feel the water mix in with the tears on my face and wash them away, too. To step out, dry off, and finally brush the tangles out of my hair. To walk into my own room and breathe in the familiarity. To turn the fan on high and flop down onto the floor. To lay completely naked, with my eyes closed, just listening to the silence. To smile. I am home.

The past few days have lasted years forced smiles and withheld tears growing up all too fast teenage adulthood arrived at last utter exhaustion dulling my eyes and still I drive and drive waking up early and in bed too late no wonder the tiredness won't abate cleaning, laundry, washing dishes, doing whatever my poor mom wishes no time to eat or time to sleep constantly hungry and trying not to weep so many things I must remember my brain still lost back in September need to study for my tests but I can't without some rest from watching my mom ceaselessly looking after her needlessly constantly moving from morning to night becoming more an

I'm a meanderer. I linger on the edges of society, flitting about, never quite staying in one place for too long. I'm the extra puzzle piece that no one knows what to do with, but no one wants to just throw away. I'm accepted amongst my friends, until they need to get rid of some dead weight. I'm someone everybody knows on the outside, but very few know on the inside. I have a past that shocks people because my present doesn't reflect what's happened to me. But only on the outside. On the inside I am a murderer of perceptions and early judgements. On the inside I am a thief of good intentions and gentle spirits. On the inside I am a

The hushed voices, the concealed tears, the worried faces. Laughing in public, quiet with family, crying alone. Trying to ignore it, living our lives, secretly falling apart. It's liked it's a secret, or against the rules, or inappropriate to talk about. We all keep our fear, our worry and confusion, locked away inside. And it's finally getting to me.

Hey everybody. Cinderella's here, see? I have on my beautiful dress. My hair is flawless. I look like a princess. But where's my Prince Charming? Now it's too late. My time is up. The night is over. The magic is gone. The clock struck midnight. And I still can't find Prince Charming.

I see him standing there and I pause, frozen in disbelief. I blink once, twice, but it really is him. I run to him, my heart about to burst with joy, my face lit up in a smile. I collapse into his arms and he smiles, holding me tight, as real and warm and true as ever. And then he vanishes. I sit up with a start, confused, and realize I'm in my room, that it was a dream. Heartbroken, tears start to roll down my cheeks as I clutch at the empty space where he was just standing. For a moment he was here again, with me. But now he is thousands of miles away.

I have lived. I have loved. I have lost. And though I be but 17, know I not what each means? I am not an old woman. I have not yet grown to adulthood. But from my perspective, is my life not as long as any other? Doth not my seventeen years still appear to me as my entire life? And so I refuse to listen when others tell me I am ignorant, young and stupid. For I have lived more in my life than those who have lived twice as long. I am not married. I am still a young virgin. But though this be true, know I not what love is? Doth mine heart not beat with as much passion as any other? And so I refuse to listen when others tell me I am naive