Unrequited.

Bold: Girl. Normal: Boy. Italics: Unknown.

 

Sometimes I would wonder how stupid it would really seem to him. How I sit here with my eyes never leaving the screen of my phone; waiting for his new text. Or refreshing the screen until it says he’s online, and yet not starting a conversation with him. Or how when I crave him, when I miss him I read the texts or the e-mails we’ve passed to each other, smiling at all the things we talked about. I really wonder what he would say if he knew how much he meant to me.

 

But what’s the point of these hour long conversations, those late night texts, laughing together, the locked messages I can’t bear to erase, if you could never feel the way I do? Why waste all those flowers when you know that he doesn’t love you?

 

It’s funny when someone says they love you, and you can’t really feel it, but when someone says they don’t, you feel every ounce of what was drain out of your being.

 

-

 

She won’t come and talk to you. You should go and talk to her. You should just be around her. When you’re with a group of friends she isn’t going to run into your arms, no matter how much she wants to. You need to come up behind her and wrap your arms around her and let her friends get jealous. She loves you more than you imagine, no matter how much she doesn’t show it. But you boy, you need to show her how much you love her, so she won’t be afraid of showing it back.

 

-

 

“Are you okay?” – Why do people say it? Does ‘I’m fine’ honestly satisfy you? If so, you don’t mean what you’re asking. I mean come on, look into my eyes – I’m not okay. You know I’m not okay, and you asking me if I’m okay is just reminding me how badly I’m not. I want someone to reach out a little further than just – “Are you okay?” Instead of a question, make it a statement. “You’re going to be okay.” It would mean so much more. We need to look deeper: Nobody is every okay. You know, people always ask – “If I’m okay.” But they’re never really expecting an answer, the truth. Because the reality of the matter is that if I really was okay, then you wouldn’t even have to ask.

 

-

 

She wanted something else; something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps. Or maybe a quiet, heartfelt conversation into the wee hours of the morning. Or perhaps something as simple as not being second.

 

-

 

He turned around and looked right at me, and I didn’t say anything. Not even a ‘hi’. It was as if all the time I had spent loving him, wanting him, weren’t important. It was if they didn’t even matter.

 

You’ve made me feel every emotion possible without me realizing it. And I didn’t even acknowledge it. Let’s start at the beginning, when we first became friends. It was insignificant, but I was high for weeks. And then you were all over her and I ran home, hid in my bed and cried all my tears until I was over the toilet being sick. Then I slit my wrists because I needed something to distract me from the pain of loosing you. And then when you asked me what the marks were, that they weren’t dog scratches because I didn’t even had a job, you look at me as if I had changed; and I looked back at you sadly, holding the tears in because I had changed, and it was all you fault. It shows how much you knew and now you know I hope you feel terrible, like I did.

 

I really like you. No, I LOVE you. And I want you to know that if I had the choice to go out with anyone in the whole world or stay at home with you, eating pizza and watching a crappy TV show, then I’d choose you every time.

 

-

 

You might think I’m not, but deep down in the corner of my mind, I’m attached to you. When you’re around, my whole body knows it. I’ll keep talking, but my mind won’t even know it.

 

I think tears are the sign of breaking: Breaking with sadness, breaking with happiness, breaking with relief. Tears are the outer expressions of inner relief. And God, I’ve seen you cry way too many times over me, and damn it breaks my heart.

 

-

 

The fact that you cannot kiss your own elbow shows you the fact that some things that are seem to be so, so close are just bound to be our of your reach.

 

-

 

Just because something is unspoken, doesn’t mean that it has disappeared.

 

-

 

It doesn’t matter how long you’ve know him, my mum told me, if he’s kept you smiling since day one, then don’t lose him.

 

-

 

She has bite marks on her tongue front all the times she’s never said anything.

 

-

 

But I’ll keep him, no matter how many times he’ll be with other girls, one of which he may marry someday. Because I’m too selfish to let him go. Just because someone doesn’t love you how you want them to love you, it doesn’t mean they do not love you in that way with everything they have.

 

I miss him in the most happy and significant times of my life. Just because you miss somebody when the world is quiet and lonely doesn’t mean that you love them. You’ll miss anyone when you’re lonely. It’s when your life is going great and you still feel that ache in your heart that they’re not hear to share in your happiness, to smile with you. He isn’t here to see that genuine smile on my face and the happiness in my life.

 

-

 

And if I was in a crowd, you may not notice me. I don’t really stand out and I’m nothing special. I advise you not to spend your time on my, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to try.

 

-

 

It was odd, his blue eyes met my equally blue ones and he didn’t look away. For a moment we were caught in this awkward, staring kind of thingy. And then he did the most amazing thing. He looked away, and he smiled.

 

-

 

You know what? I realized something last night. I don’t just want you to hold my hand; I want you to reach for it. To reach for me. And trust me; I know how it feels to cry in the shower so no one can hear me. To wait for everyone to fall asleep so I can fall apart. To hurt so bad that you just want everything to end. I know exactly how it feels.

 

-

 

Sometimes, smiling doesn’t mean happiness at all. Because maybe it’s a way of saying: “I’m managing.” But sometimes, smiling is just a way of saying: “I’m tired of crying.” Huge events happen on this earth everyday. Earthquakes, cyclones, glaciers melt. So why couldn’t you just look at me?

 

Sometimes, I wonder what you really think about me, or if you even think about me at all.

 

-

 

It happened right then. She looked at me, and it was the thing that I had been waiting for, but we didn’t instantly fall in love, there wasn’t even a crush. It was like the feeling that I had got picked first for basketball. It was like knowing somebody thought about me for more than a second, and maybe even when I wasn’t there.

 

-

 

We spend half our life sleeping, but we spend our whole life waiting. Waiting in lines, waiting for times, waiting to be old enough, waiting for a call. We’re always waiting but we don’t always realize it. Waiting for someone to say something, waiting for somebody to notice you. Constantly waiting for that one person and they have no idea that you’re waiting for them. I’m waiting for you, to see that I love you, and for you to be something more than a friend towards me. The thing is, I don’t know if that’ll ever happen.

 

I love you is eight letters right? But so is I miss you, so is bullshit. At the end of the day, I love you and I miss you, but you can take all of your bullshit and put it a place far away because you don’t know how I feel or how much I cry. So now, instead, I’ve got three letters, rather than eight. It’s not special, or sweet or meaningful or touching.

It’s simple: bye.

 

This story was supposed to last; you weren’t supposed to be just somebody in the past nor someone I used to know. But that’s just how it worked out.

 

Giving up doesn’t mean I’m weak, it just means I’m strong enough to let go.

I really love you.

 

CZW.

 

She was finally strong enough to let him go. But did you know what the sad part is? Sometimes she still stays up late at night and stares at her phone, wondering if he really ever missed her.

 

Just because I’m not speaking to you; that I don’t know you anymore doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you everyday. You mean a lot to me.

A Secret Among the Stars.

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
William Shakespeare

 

Have you ever simply wondered at the night sky? Have you ever attempted to count the stars? Have you taken time, even if it is cold out, just to marvel at them? How do we know that they’ll be there tomorrow, or the next week? Are we taking them for granted, just like we take so many others for granted also? If they disappear one day, will we have learnt our lesson, or would we merely not notice, because we don’t look up and take time for them? What does this say about us?

 

The stars define us, they’re the things that can guide us on our way and they hold their grounds in religions also. They’ve been evident throughout history, telling stories and making pictures in the heavens: that could change somebody’s life.

 

They quiver and sparkle, like a diamond catching the light, creating a rainbow prism, and we’ve learnt so much about them, that they’re just like our sun, how they are born and how they end, never to shine again. But we’re treating them like science experiments, because we cannot reach them. What if there was something more about them? I’ve always thought they hold an air of mystery about them; that they twinkle as if they’re winking at us, holding that special secret for you.

 

What if they did hold secrets? One special secret; one secret for every person on the face of the earth. And to obtain that secret, all you had to do was sit outside on a clear night, face pointed towards the sky and yet your eyes tightly shut, just revelling the majesty. And you would hear a whisper, the secret travelling in on the wind, swirling around you and settling in the palm of your hand, filling you with the truth and you would smile slightly, thanking the stars. And yet nobody would know, unless they truly did it of their own accord. But would you really want to hear the secret in the end, or would you rather be naive, oblivious and safe from the cruelties of the world. What would you prefer?

 

- - -

 

Clarissa was a normal girl. She had a good bunch of friends; she got average grades even though she was a bit disruptive in class and she was happy with her life. She wasn’t that interested in guys, she would much rather hang with her friends. She was barely sixteen and was concentrating on studying hard for her NCEA exams, hoping that even though she got average grades usually, she would get better marks on these tests – the ones that counted.

 

One night she was sitting in her living room, the sun having long set and still the heat stifling, the windows throw open in an attempt to cool the house down. Obviously, it wasn’t working. Her dad was upstairs working on his next project; he was an in demand architect. Her mother’s absence hung over her life a shadow, but she was doing okay.

 

Clarissa was barely ten when her mother didn’t come home, the news headlines flashing of an unidentified woman who was brutally murdered. She felt sorry for the family; whoever it was. Then she got a call from the police station, and her life turned upside down. Never would she believe her mother wouldn’t be there in the morning, that she wouldn’t pack her lunch or brush her hair. Clarissa most definitely took her mother for granted, and losing her was hard, like it would be for everyone.

 

Clarissa was trying to concentrate on her history study of William Shakespeare, but she couldn’t, the words blurring before her eyes and the tears spilling over, trying to wipe them away in vain. She slammed her folder shut and threw open the back door, walking out and sitting down on the veranda, looking up to the stars.

 

The pain wrenched through her and she gave a choked sob, remembering her face and the way she would treat her. The soft, calming hands of her mother, rubbing her back when she fell and skinned her knee, her calm words washing over her like a soft stream, washing away the dirt and the grime; the guilt and the sorrow. Clarissa brought her knees under her chin, and the tears flew freely, her body shuddering with each sob and each rasping breath, her straight hair matting on the sides of her face, her mascara streaked across her face like the stripes on a zebra.

 

She was gone, gone and never to return. This was the hard part – the times where Clarissa remembered and fell apart, the aching whole where her heart used to be throbbing around the edges, her head swimming and her heartbeat racing. She missed her with all her might, and somebody took her away from Clarissa, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that her life was short, or that she left behind only two thirds that would fray at the edges without her.

 

Then, with a whisper of wind, her father was sitting next to Clarissa, cradling her and calming her, stroking her hair and shushing her, trying not to cry himself. They all had times like this, times when they wanted her back, that they would do anything for that. And yet, they couldn’t.

 

“It’s not fair,” Clarissa choked out, “Why her?”

 

They all thought of this, why would someone as kind as her have something like this happen to them? But then again, why did good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people? It wasn’t right; it wasn’t fair. But what is fair? Is there anything to go on, what is justice and what isn’t? Is there any type of scale, any true justice system? Or it everything based on lies, maybe everything we’ve every lived for is just a story. But we don’t know do we? There are so many questions that we cannot answer. And we can do nothing about it.

 

“Why?”

“Ssh, it’s okay.”

 

Clarissa’s father calmed her down and just sat with her, wiping away her tears and holding her close, thinking of their wife and mother, of how lucky they were to even have someone like her in the first place. They were lucky, in a way, that they had good times and bad times with her, that they would always remember her. And that was what mattered the most.

 

When Clarissa’s father left, she closed her eyes and raised her face to the stars, thinking about her mother, the tears still came but slower now, tears of thankfulness and remembrance, wishing on the stars that she would never forget.

 

There was a soft whisper of the wind, he hair ruffling slightly and Clarissa smiled slightly, mumbling a silent thank you to the heaven. She felt a lot better now, the aching in her chest had subsided to a soft yearning, but she still missed her – no matter what.

 

The whisper of the wind increased and words floated on the breeze, moving around Clarissa like soft, smooth silk and chiffon, resting in her hands and echoing through her.

 

She will always be in your heart, and you will always remember.

 

And remember her, she always will, because when someone significant comes into your lives, they will always leave memories behind, and they will always have a special place in your heart.

Just a little self reflection after walking 21 km on a two day school tramp. Though I'd post it up here. Feel free to comment and read, (well nah). Okay, so bye. x

Expectations.

 

Each step you take.
Getting closer.
Makes it easier to fall on your face.

Throwing Punches – Paramore.

 

You’re so high, as if there is no limit. You’re already past the sky, and you’re still going up. Who cares that this tramp you’re currently on with your year group is hard, that your muscles are screaming in protest and you’ve got so many blisters that you don’t know where one stops and the other begins? You’re feeling great on the inside, and that is all that matters.

 

Everyone around you is exhausted, and yet you’ve still got the smallest of smiles creeping over your face, barely concentrating on the trail in front of you. You’ve been the spirit of the group all day, yelling back and checking if everybody is alright, singing songs and laughing at extremely random intervals.

 

Everybody thinks you’re crazy, but you’ve got something that’s hiding deep down inside of you, that you’ve sworn you’ll never show. It’s your only weakness, and if you stop smiling, if you give up, then you won’t be able to stop, you’ll loose your control and you will fall, losing everything you’ve ever done and ever lived for. It’s a weakness, your secret, and you don’t show weakness. Everybody in your year group thinks of you as the perfect girl, good marks, averagely pretty, a dancer, an actor and a bit of talent at netball. Whether they think of you like that in a good way, compliments and attributes, or the bad way, where they need something to gossip about, you don’t care. Because you’re on the top of the world, aren’t you?

 

You’ve got to be strong, you can’t show weakness, because that’s the only thing that keeps you, you. Most girls in the school, and some of the guys from the brother school know you as the perfect girl, and that’s the only reason your name passes through their lips. Maybe they’ve never actually met you, but it goes through people, and the better you act on the outside, the more smiles you have and give, the better the words are.

 

Because that’s your secret, that’s your only weakness. You can’t show weakness; you won’t show weakness. It’s a bit ironic and contradicting, but you’re a complicated person. Sometimes you talk in a certain way, including long and complicated words just so people cannot follow. So they just smile and nod, you talk like that so they won’t notice the cracks that begin to form on your exterior when you’re put under pressure.

 

And it’s like that a lot, you’re under constant scrutiny. It’s not just your fellow friends and students, its teachers too. They expect you to always have it right, that you can’t slip up, because you’re the best. They turn to you to set an example, like you’re one of the stabilizers in a house of cards. But if you stumble or wobble, then everybody falls. It’s terribly hard to keep up appearances.

 

- - -

You’re going fine; you’ve warmed up and taken off your gloves and hat. The group has already stopped for lunch and you’ve been so loud and excited, that it’s painful. You were at the back before, for a bit with your toilet buddy, so they’ve moved you to the front. But honestly, being at the back was better, you could walk in silence and just concentrate on taking step after step, making sure you were still going and not thinking about the emotions that were so close to breaking.

 

But now you’re at the front and everybody is following you, looking to the excited and smiley one for songs and words of encouragement. So you start up a trend of sorts, you ask your toilet buddy, Iris, to teach the first five of the group Chinese numbers for nicknames. There’s yourself, who is ya, then there’s Iris, who is ye. Then there is Arna and Katie, who are sam and sai respectively. Finally there’s Gemma who is nn. Arna makes up a song for it and you’re occupied a bit longer with distractions, walking higher and further with your strength building – or so you think.

 

- - -

 

Later on, you’ve removed your sweatshirt and you’ve stopped for another scroggin break, having a bit of chocolate, a handful of nuts and raisins, and a single, orange barley sugar. Feeling recharged and emotionally prepared, you stand up when everybody’s ready and you urge everybody on, a huge smile plastered over your face like a billboard. One of the teachers smiles too and does the same, and you feel a tinge of hopefulness deep down in your heart, that maybe you’ll last, that maybe you’ll be okay. Maybe.

 

You keep walking, noticing the beautiful bush that is surrounding you, trying not to walk into the mud and keeping upright, the pack of your back beginning to feel a little heavier on your back. But you’re going to be okay. Everybody’s talking and singing now, and you add in a comment or two every now and again, keeping things going. You’re constantly checking on your “Chinese buddies” and then yelling back checking everybody’s alright, asking people how they’re doing. You’ve still got a good three hours to go at least, but you’re confident that you can make it through the day.

 

You go down a hill, using the roots of a nearly tree as footholds and you keep moving. Breathing in deeply, inhaling the mountain air, you raise your face towards the sunshine that is filtering through the dense bush in lines and patches, catching a few rays on your face. There you go again – you’re happy. You release some of your emotions and smile, looking to leave your wall down for a bit, so you can relax.

 

You lower your head and keep your eyes to the trail, noticing a small creek up ahead. It’s not a muddy bog, which is terribly good news, so you’re optimistic, nothing can go amiss. But, I guess you didn’t touch wood, so you’ve jinxed yourself.

 

Putting your foot on the rock in the middle of the stream, you balance your weight on it and swing your leg towards the other side, not noticing the faint hint of green algae on the rocks, your eyes so attuned to the green bush that you’ve been seeing all day, that it just blends into the grey and sepia tones, camouflaging itself. Your worn sneaker looses grip and you fall, the gravity of your pack tipping you towards the left and you go down, sucking in a breath quickly.

 

There’s a thud and you feel a pound go through your upper thigh on your left leg and a sharp stab on your right hand as it collides with a rock. A sharp laugh – an encouraging laugh – comes from behind you as somebody offers you a hand and you stand up, the tears already welling in your eyes. You brush your legs off and walk slightly higher up the next small mound, before feeling your willpower break, and you raise a hand to your eyes, as if you were hiding the tears. You give a choked sob and a lot of people look at you, disbelief colouring their faces. You’re the life of the group, and it’s as if your world has been coloured to grey in the means of a second. The weakness swells within you and you struggle to hold it down, but you give up.

 

Katie gives you a hug and there are mumbled words of encouragement, maybe they’re still in shock that the eternally happy person is crying or maybe they just don’t care; that they’ve seen it all before. But where are the encouraging words for me? I’ve encouraged you, so will you repeat the favour?

 

Doctor Becker checks the small cut on your hand and you open your water bottle, tipping a bit on the cut and wincing with the pain, watching the diluted red dripping down your arm like red powerade, the moisture leaving a faint trace that you shake off, and thanking Iris you take the plaster she has offered, tucking the rubbish into your bra. You lift your head back up, you keep moving. Still, a few tears escape and you hurriedly wipe them away, locking your emotions deep down inside you. You keep moving, sniffing a bit and trying to translate everything other people say into French in your head, keeping yourself occupied while you put the rest of your concentration onto the worn path, falling behind a bit more.

 

- - -

 

A few stops later and there’s barely half an hour to go, only one other harmless fall under your belt, a few more nuts and half your drink bottle drained. You’re around third in the long line and you can nearly smell victory in the air, between the mixture of musty, drenched logs and leaf litter and the faint hint of sweat, the group of 27 people; 23 girls and 4 adults getting warmer, the day a few hours past its peak of heat, but the warmth showing no signs of subsiding, just yet. Your smiley emotion feels so real now, that you have the faint suspicion that it could be real, that maybe your acting his leaked into something real, something more stable.

 

The track is flat now and you hear a cry of discovery up ahead. You don’t do anything because Nicole and Arna, who are the current leaders, have cried wolf countless times in the past hour, after urging them to yell if they’ve seen the hut. Suddenly, you break through the last line of trees and you’re on a flat patch of grass. Barely twenty metres away there is a sign that clearly says: HUT, pointing to the right.

 

You freeze for barely a second and you give a cry of joy, ignoring how tired and exhausted you are, just ready to sit. You race up the hut with abandon, your heart thudding and giving more whoops of joy when you reach the top, whipping off your muddy and soaked shoes and walking over the threshold, into the small hut.

 

You barely notice that there is a table in the middle with a fire behind it, two sinks and two gas cookers to your left and another two gas cookers to your right, you sprint around the small corner to the left and hoist your pack onto the top of the long, wooden ledge, grabbing three mattresses down and throwing yourself across them, saving them for Iris and Mew.

 

Who cares that there’s no running water, that there’s no lighting, no hot showers or anything, we’re here and we’ve made it through the day, I’ve made it through the day.

 

- - -

 

The rest of the night is simply a blur, a freezing river swim that you’re the first to attempt and conquer, a beautiful cooked dinner and pudding, laughing at high points and low points, stumbling to the long drops in the dark, holding hands and singing songs on the way, yelling at everybody to shut up so we can sleep, and just drifting off, welcoming the darkness of sleep that holds no emotion and nothing of lasting effect.

 

- - -

 

The next day is harder, but it goes in the same pattern. You smile, have a bit of down times, at one point you’re feeling so tired, but nobody’s worried because you’re Zoe and you’ll bounce back again, you’re the happy and pumped one, so you’ll be fine. Right?

 

You have a hard uphill climb for most of the morning, the sun out again and the weather conditions and temperature at a perfect balance. You eat a weird lunch of a peanut butter and salami sandwich, but the food slides down and your stomach rumbles in appreciation, washing it down with a mouthful of water.

 

For the rest of the afternoon you have a hard downhill, with countless falls from everybody, light conversations, song making and repeating, a special walking order of: Katie, Zoe, Nicole, Arna, Gemma and Tessa and the general winding down of the tramp.

 

When you reach the swing bridge you’re in the front, you go as fast as you can across, trying not to fall over the edge and die. You reach the other side and you dump your pack, laughing in relief and sighing, sitting on top of it and just waiting for the rest of the group.

 

Then follows another freezing river swim when you’re yet again the first one to attempt and conquer, everybody truly accepting that you’re crazy. But you know that already, and you laugh with them – a true laugh from deep within, that they’re halfway to accepting your flaws, and that soon they’ll know your secret, but that’s okay.

 

You get back to school and you make your way home, feeling fine still after getting some food into you, drinking a 500mL V in the space of a few minutes, feeling the buzz relieve you, raise you for that final stretch.

 

- - -

 

When you get home, your smile fades as it always does. The happiness fades and you become subdued through out the quiet evening, just sitting at the computer listening to Paramore and The Midnight Beast, feeling tired and drained. You’re thinking, and you think too much. You’re over exaggerating of course, but you need to get it out of your system. So you do, not talking for around two hours straight, just typing a story of some sort about a tramp that was once upon a time, barely a distant memory. Or is it?

 

But really, am I meant to feel as if I'm on an all time low, like I'll never smile again? Feeling as if the words are just bubbling at my lips, and yet I cannot bring myself to break the silence, wishing I wouldn't be the one to do it. There's nothing wrong, and yet it feels as if there's nothing right; that's nothing will be alright. Am I meant to feel this way, or is it just me? Am I meant to feel so lonely and empty, and yet there are so many people around me, so many who love me. If I'm not meant to feel like this, what am I supposed to feel like? Will I ever feel again?
Can I ever feel happy again?

 

I ask these questions and yet I know the answer is that I will be happy soon, that I have to be. I have this weakness, but I have to get past it like others do. Mine’s just a little bit harder that others. Maybe, or maybe not, I’m still not quite sure. But I try to hide my imperfection, for the reason that I’m afraid of it. It’s like a confusing, vicious cycle that I cannot overcome. But I have to. Tomorrow, I’ll smile and be okay. I’ll post a happy facebook status and reply to some comments before logging off for the night and sleeping my aches and pains away, just ready for the next day.

 

But one thing that I realise in the end is that there was never any encouragement for me. I encouraged, but I was left empty handed. I’m expected to do it myself. And I know that, but I still can’t help but want it, maybe just once. I can’t help but think that I won’t make it one day, that I’ll just wear myself out and have no one there to help me along, because everybody thinks that I can do it alone.

 

I told you: It’s terribly hard to keep up appearances. So I just have to move along, and maybe tomorrow I’ll let someone in on my secret. Maybe one person or maybe more than that. All I can hope is that they understand me, just a little bit more, and that they know that I’m not so perfect after all.

 

 

The best movie this year is definitely Sherlock Holmes, the long awaited and action packed drama. The best song is probably Tik Tok, by The Midnight Beast. Good fun.

Drabbles/ONEshots.
Harry Potter.

Three Words, Eight Letters, One Lifetime.
/"I kissed you, pouring my emotion into that passionate contact with each other. Through that single kiss I told you I was sorry, and that I wanted to make things right. You didn’t kiss me back."/ ONESHOT, Draco/Hermione. Rating: K+

Carefree
/"Hermione had walked into her and Draco's apartment, seeing Pansy sitting there in her lingerie, Draco taking her in with wide eyes. There was no objection from Draco. Did he not want her? It bloody well seemed like it."/ DRABBLE, Draco/Hermione. Rating: K

Corny Bullshit
/"It was as if our polarity was reverse, and we began attracted instead of repulsed. Yeah, remember what I said about corny bullshit? Our lives are full of it."/ DRABBLE, Draco/Hermione. Rating: K+

Damn Slytherin
/"But he was a Slytherin, and I should've know better. He left, leaving me hurt and broken hearted. But this time, there was no-one to help me pick up the pieces."/ DRABBLE, Draco/Hermione. Rating: K

Whipped Cream
/"Whipped Cream. Whipped Cream in a can. Now, to you this may seem relatively simple. But the thing that surprised Hermione was the note that was stuck to it."/ DRABBLE, Draco/Hermione. Rating: T

Finding Peace
/"I'm in love with you!" Draco erupted, that single sentence echoing around the entire lake. "I've been in love with you ever since I first saw you, and it's killing me! You say you're the smartest girl in school? Then how come you didn't notice this!"/ ONESHOT, Draco/Hermione Rating: K

iPod Challenge
/"Don’t," I argued, falling deeply into his green eyes. They were just begging me to stay. It was so hard to resist, but I just had to, "Just don't"/ ONESHOT - Five in One. James P./Lily E. Rating: K

Drabbles/ONEshots.
Twilight.

Teaser! The Diary of An Imprintee.
/Giselle is friends with the Cullens, but she doesn't know about their true identity. Then she meets Jacob Black at a party and does everything she can to finally get her happy ending, including writing it all in a diary./ Jacob/OC. Story Discontinued. Rating: K+

Just Another Speed Bump.
/The Cullens take a trip to New Zealand, and my school! to take a break from Forks. But what they find there stops them in their tracks. Will this 'speed bump' blow over quickly? Or will they be destined to enter the line of battle - yet again! Post BD./ ONESHOT. Bella/Edward. Rating: K

My Ending To Twilight.
/What if Jasper caught up with Bella at the airport? Then Bella wouldn't have gone to see James. But with Bella, you always have to expect the unexpected./ ONESHOT. Bella/Edward. Rating: K

Feels Like Home.
/“Well then you can join the club,” Rosalie said. “What club?” Jasper asked. “The: I’ve-screwed-a-Cullen Club.”/ ONESHOT. Bella/Edward. Rating: T

Jellybeans, Those Damn Jellybeans.
/"It had been 10 years since the Cullens left. 10 long miserable years, in which my life fell apart. All the other accidents that happened were just a drop of water in the ocean of grief I held. I needed to say goodbye. I need to close that era of life."/ ONESHOT, pretty much a drabble. Bella/Edward. Rating: K

Works In Progress. [WIP].
Twilight.

Would You?
/What would you do if someone told you that everything you lived for was a lie? Bella's world is falling to pieces. There's only one person who can truly save her, but will she want to be saved? The question is: Would You Believe Them? Would You?/ Bella/Edward. Rating: K+

Music Reveals The Soul.
/Bella writes songs truthfully, pouring her heart into each and every word. When Edward discovers them, will he share his feelings for Bella, Or will their friendship fizzle as Edward crushes her dreams in the process?/ Bella/Edward. Rating: T

Meeting Fate.
/Unexpectedly, Lexi meets the real Edward Cullen. Add a one year trip to France, a very charming Jacob Black, one crazy 18th birthday party, a fall out of a 30 story building and Lexi and the Cullens are going to have one hell of a year!/ Bella/Edward Rating: T

Works In The Making.
Harry Potter.

An Aberration.

/An Aberration: Out of the ordinary. After a one-night stand, Hermione's over men and ready to give them up. But with a positive pregnancy test and the phone number of the father, she's been given no choice. A story of overcoming the past, family and love./ Draco/Hermione. Rating: T Family/Romance. Chapters: 15 Approx. 11 Chapters Written So Far! (: