Five minutes, any day. Spent writing—something anything not for anyone anything no edits no outlines no plans no correction, this is where it goes.enjoy.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

To A Guy I Know (Who I Know Will Never Read This)

I've no doubt you're a wonderful person.
Actually, that's a blatant lie.
I flipping love you.  When you smile it makes me grin.  When you crack a joke, it's hilarious, and I can't help but laugh and laugh and laugh and all of our friends think we're crazy and that's perfectly, perfectly fine.  Your new classes make you look super cute.  You're attractive, wonderful, crazy fun, and if I had to pick anyone to have an epic lightsaber battle in a toy aisle with-- if I had to pick anyone to ride the Vortex with me-- if I had to pick anyone to storm Chuck E Cheese with-- it would be you.  They would all be you.
You are fabulous, and I adore you.

But I don't love you like that.  And if you ever told me that, I would be beyond heartbroken, because you are a wonderful human being.  You're precious.  We have amazing times together.  But I'm not for you, and you're not for me.
I wish I could say I was, if you'd want it, because then you would be happy.
But I couldn't ever say that.  We're the best of friends.
But we're just friends, and that's all.

Anything more . . . well.  That would just mess everything up, and I would rather die than ever give you false hope of anything more than the craziness we are together every once in a while.

You've got a princess.

I've got a prince.

But I'm not yours.

You're not mine.

We just both happen to be royalty.

And thanks for all the marvelous times. I'm glad this never has to be said aloud, and that you make my day.  For that I am ever so grateful.
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HAHAHA Classes meaning glasses, duh.  Because NaNoWriMo kills my ability to spell.  Sorry 'bout that, guys... but it says no editing.
Just thought i might clear that up.
. . . 
Classes. *snurk*

Thursday, November 17, 2011

It isn't like that, please

It's not like I'm deaf.
It's not like you're mute.

It's not like I don't see you.
It's not like you can't look me in the eye.

It's not like I enjoy having you shut out.
It's not like you're opening the door again.

It's not like I can't tell when you're lying to me.
It's not like you try to keep your lies from me.

It's not like I won't forgive you.
It's not like you have to fear my tears.

It's not like I love to see your pain.
It's not like you have to hide it from me, either.

It's not like I don't care.
It's not like you can't trust me.

It's not like I don't love you.
It's not like that.
It's not.

I'm so sorry I haven't been what I could be, but I'm trying so, so hard.
I'm trying.

It's not like you can't try too.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Bleeding alone

I race, volleying through the halls, dashing as fast as I can, my feet slipping on the shiny tiles, my heart pounding in my chest, and I can hardly breathe for the sting in my throat.
Sliding through the automatic doors, I slam into the shiny white wall on the other side.  I hear something crack in my arm, and pain shoots through it, but I can still move it, and so I run on.  I don't know where I'm going but I'm going to find you.  I don't know what you're feeling but I feel I must help you.

My fingers dig into the rims of the mirrored windows as I struggle to look in, strain to see through the darkness to see if I have found you.  Not here.  Not here.  Not here.
I round the corner and suddenly a huge glass dome looms in front of me.  Inside the floor is sticky with brown drying blood, and in the center you sit, the slits on your arms leaking scarlet Ichor onto the white tiles around you.
I pound on the glass, screaming your name.  Look at me.  Look at me.  You've got to look at me.

Your head drifts upwards, and we make eye contact. Tears stream from my blue, but your green simply stare.  Your blood continues to flow.
Let me in.
Let me in.
Let me in.
Oh, please, just let me in!

I've come to get you.  To free you.  To let you out.  My fists bash into the glass, but I can't break it, but you do not move.  Your eyes float to the door.  The only handle is on the inside.  Your blood continues to flow.


I want to help you--



You look down.


Please. I scream, my voice breaking, throat raw, heart splitting inside me.



Why do you let your blood still flow?


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Sorry.  Longer than five minutes.  I trust you still love me. ^_^