You say to stop crying But you’re the one who made me cry You ask me to stop texting But you’re the only one I text You ask my to stop obsessing But who will I obsess over? I cry puddles I text poems I feel. I feel so much… But do you? Did you- ever care at all?

(Forget the prompt, I wrote a script)

Rory: “how could you love her? How could you love someone who has hurt you so much before?”

John: “it’s not how could I love her, it’s how could I stop? Her eyes, they are a beautiful ocean blue, the kind that you just want to stare at forever and escape into and her hair- her hair - her golden locks feel so good between my fingers, each strand different from the last - and the way she laughs… the way she smiles…. Her lips look- no- _feel _like even a promise of a kiss fills my soul . She’s… perfect. “

Rory: “but… she’s horrible, she tore you to shreds!”

John: “I know. And that’s why it hurts more. The person I thought was mine, can’t be mine at all. But I can’t stop loving her. I can’t. “

Wow the days really have passed here. People, have passed here. Aunt Betty is now gone- People who were children are now full grown adults, With thoughts… and opinions. Too many in my opinion. My mother! Where is my mother? I can’t believe walking down the abandoned street full of childhood memories made me forget about my dearest. My loved ones. My mother. I can just picture her standing there, arms wide open. But she’s not. Just a silent house, unfulfilled of its point in life to have someone live in it. No- there’s no one. I bang on the door in utter tears, crying out for my mother like a baby bird to their parents. But I know deep down she hasn’t been here for a while. Or anywhere for that matter apart from….. nevermind. It hurts to even think of that word. Home sweet home? But a little less sweet.

All I can hear is false ‘i love you’s and other words people never got to say. It’s a dreadful superpower. It just goes on. And on. And on. And it never stops and wonders how I feel carrying this weight upon my shoulders. How I feel listening to words they never got to say. To loved ones, or crushes, or anyone for that matter. If only people could hear what I have to hear. Feel what I have to feel. I carry all of these burdens but no one gets to carry mine. No one gets to hear how much i want to say I love you to those dearest who have passed, Or ask for someone’s number who i have been waiting to do for a long time. It’s just others. Bla. Bla. Bla. That’s all I hear now. After 26 years of having to do this- i don’t process anything anymore. That’s probably why I’m still living with my mother with no education. That’s probably why I’ve never had any exciting experiences. That’s probably why I feel nothing at all…

I’m selected. Me out of anyone else in the pot I was the chosen one. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. What to pick. What to pick. One item out of any in the whole world. What do I pick? It can’t harm- but yet- it can be useful. Everyone else probably picked food. Protection. Water. I’m a whole other story. I brought- a rag. HEAR ME OUT!! A rag may look non suspicious and weird at a first glance- but if you look at how dangerous it can be- it’s a miracle. It can harm someone, you can tie them up, choke them, hurt them in any way possible. You may be thinking though, how can I defend myself if that doesn’t work? The question isn’t how would I defend myself, no- no. The question is, if my defences go down- how can I heal myself? It’s not like ibuprofen would heal me. They’d just run out in an instant. But a rag? No. A rag wouldn’t do that. I can tie the rag around my cuts that dig deep into the flesh and bones, and heal myself. The rag won’t go away. The rag will protect me. The rag- will ALWAYS be there.

I pick up my phone- A message from my friend. They said to meet them at the park, At quarter past ten.

I get disturbed by the message, And wonder why, They want to meet me, So late at night?

I could not help but wonder, And stare at the text, Why they would ask that, And what would happen next.

As I stare up at my bedroom ceiling, In distress and disarray, At the flaking paint, Just floating away.

I think of good things, Like stargazing with some tea, And wonder if, Thats why my friend wanted me.

So I pack up my bag, With a charger and some snacks, And kiss my mom goodbye, And close the door with a smack.

I set off into the night, Hoping I’d be come home, Before morning light, In the settled, morning snow.

P.S before you read this I tried my go at comedy and it didn’t go so well but if you want to read it then have fun! I tried my best.

Sometimes, I think about a conversation I had 7 years ago. All I can think is ‘did I need to say that?’ ‘Ooh I should’ve said this’ ‘dang it why didn’t I don’t that????’ And sometimes all I can ask people is if they have felt that too. I know they have- you probably have heard a sob story from one of your friends 5 years ago about their ‘one true love’ and thought ‘oh- I shouldn’t of said that’ because now they are married to someone else. Have you thought that? Because I certainly have. I think a lot. Probably to much. Do you?

My grandma had just passed a few days ago. She was my life- my everything. She took me to all my favourite places and never said no to sweets. She drove me to preschool and congratulated me on all my achievements through primary into secondary school. She was always there with a big smile and a hug and a glass of chocolate milk+ some sweets. Yesterday was the day where we all got her parts of the will. My brothers got got money and old hand me downs. But I had something different. Whilst yes, I did get cash. And quite a lot too. The main thing was this necklace, obviously quite old, with a heart on it. My mother noticed me looking at the necklace and said “that’s actually a locket, you can see the crack down the middle of it. It’s quite old so it’s barely visible, but it’s still there.” I took her advice and stuck my fingernails into this supposed ‘crack’. She was right. It opened. In the inside I saw a picture of a woman on the left hand side, and a note shoved into the right hand side. I took out the letter and unfolded it, here is what it said. To my lover, I wish we could be together, but we can’t. Our families want the same thing- Children. And more children to come. A legacy, if you will. I want more than nothing to be together, But it seems as if that could never happen. Even if society accepted us, there is no way our families would. Goodbye, my love, my life. Love, Stacy.

I then realised, that through all the sweets and smiles, she secretly wanted another life. With a woman. And her family wouldn’t support that- nor would society- and she could never be with who she wanted before she left the earth.

I found another letter- that was taped onto the chain of the necklace. It read out:

Dear my granddaughter, Alice, I feared that no one would understand the true significance of this locket- I feel truly that you are the only one that would accept me, or at the least, wouldn’t be confused about it. I felt that you could support me, if no one else could. I love you- no matter what. Even though I had to be with you grandfather, for you. I do want to say- over time I did start to love your grandfather. Know that I love you, and wouldn’t keep a secret like this if it wasn’t for a good reason. I know that you are old enough to accept me for who I am. I love you, you and your family are my prized possessions. I also wanted to add- if you are reading this- know that I am watching you from heaven, and will always be here in spirit when you need me. Metaphorically and literally. See you on the other side, Love, Your grandmother.

I was set in tears- tears of sadness for her not being her true self and tears of love because I loved her, and she loved me.

They run away fast, Knowing their misdeeds, Knowing what they did, Knowing it was wrong.

I mean, how could they do that! Run out of the store without paying! Simply atrocious! Utterly disrespectful for me.

I know it’s crazy- but I ran after them. I followed her in my car, And hunted her down, Like a wolf on the hunt for their prey.

They had a woman-like figure, With 2 eager eyes, And a smug smile.

I followed her back to her house, I didn’t know what I was going to say, Or how confidently I was going to say it, But I was getting my money.

Not matter how long it takes. No matter the time. No matter where or when. I deserve that money! And I think she knows that too…

He was mysterious, Always lurking in the woods, With one secret, Or another.

He never showed his face, Always a hood, Covering all his, Features and fears.

He didn’t have a personality, Instead, He had a dark heart, And a passion to hide his feelings.

Even though I was his best friend, For so long, He would still hide away in the woods, Never to be found.

He used to be great, And kind, But something grew over him, Making him dark and depressing.

If only he would listen… All I want for him is to listen… I have so much to say…