Thursday, May 14, 2015

Blair - Part 1 of Untitled

Blair
            The sounds of many washers and dryers filled the room, as I sat at a table impatiently waiting for my clothes to be dried. I watched as my son walks about the video games, eying the one he would potentially like to play. Two out of the four games were hunting. He passed right by them. He’s the kind of child who would rather die than hurt any animals, no matter the type. He finally settled on the racing game, asking me if he could play it. I looked at him, thinking “Am I made of money?” Instead, I sighed and gave him the money he needed to play the game.
            He stomped away from the game after losing the race, plopping down with a huff. He’s at the age where winning video games, let alone playing video games, was a big deal. I looked over to him, giving him my best smile. I was rewarded with a pitiful frown. Staring at him, I realized that he was no longer the toddler I had grown to love. Now, being five years old, he’s ready to do things on his own, not asking for help from his mom.
            His light brown hair reached down to his shoulders, lightly resting there. His bangs hung in his eyes. I lightly pushed them away, revealing bright blue eyes. Flynn was a carbon copy of his father. I knew it, he knew it, and his father knew it. I pushed his hair out of his face one last time, and sighed. “How did this happen to me?” I asked myself, and got up to fold my laundry.
            My clothes sat in one basket, while Flynn’s sat in another. I folded mine quickly, knowing that my antsy five year old was about to lose it, and would most likely cause a scene. I decided against folding his clothes, knowing they would end up on his bedroom floor at some point. I rushed out to my small four-door sedan to put the clothes up, leaving Flynn alone in the laundry mat. When I got back inside, my son decided it would be fun to climb into one of the rolling baskets.  I angrily pulled him out of the basket and put his coat on.
            “Flynn James, what did I tell you about getting into those baskets? You could’ve hurt yourself!” I quietly yelled.
            “I’m sorry, momma.” He whispered.
            I knew I couldn’t be mad at him for long, so I pulled him into my arms and take him to the car. After buckling him in and starting the car, SpongeBob Squarepants blasted through the speakers. I heard Flynn singing lightly, not getting any of the words correct. Finally feeling at peace and relaxed, I allowed myself to smile. He was safe, loved, and cared for. What else could a mother want for her child?
            “Momma?” Finn asked when we pulled into the drive-way. 
            “What is it, sweetie?” I said.
            “Who is that man standing at the door?” I looked toward the front door and stopped breathing. There stood the man who walked out on Flynn and me almost six and half years ago....... 

Monday, May 11, 2015

A little look into the Story I'm writing - Untitled

Prologue: Blair, 2009
Five minutes.
            In five minutes, you can run a mile. You can change your outfit, let the dog outside. In five minutes, you can microwave a frozen meal. You can shower, talk on the phone. In five minutes, your world can come together or fall apart. In five minutes, you can find out whether or not you’re bringing another life into the world.                        
            “Neil, I have something to tell you.” I sounded nervous.
            “What is it, love?” He asked, patting the seat next to him on the couch.
            “I don’t think you’re going to like what I’m about to tell you.” I whispered.
            “Blair, you know you can tell me anything.” He smiled.
            I took a deep breathe. “Neil, I’m pregnant.”
            I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone’s face drain of color so quickly. He stared at the wall, motionless. I waved my hand in front of his face but he didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. His beautiful blue eyes were glazed over, his perfect smile, gone.
            “Pregnant?” He finally asked.
            “Yes, pregnant. You know bun in the oven?” I said.
            “You can’t be pregnant. This isn’t happening.” He put his hands through his hair, pulling hard on the roots.
            “I am pregnant, and this is really happening.”
            “H-how did this happen?”
            “Well, when a man and a woman love each other–” I started but was interrupted.
            “Dammit, Blair, this isn’t a joke. This is my life. I can’t have a kid. I have another tour coming up soon, and another album. I don’t have time to take care of some kid.” He said.
            “This isn’t just about you, Neil.” I said. “Some kid? I think you mean, your kid.”  
            “Baby, you can’t possibly tell me you’re ready to be a mother. You have your whole life ahead of you; you don’t want a child to ruin it.” 
            “The only thing that is being ruined right now is you and me. I don’t know what you expect me to do, but I’m keeping this child, whether you’re in the picture or not.”
            “Blair, you can’t raise a child on your own. You don’t have the means to do so.” He said.
            “I may not have the means to raise this child, but I will love it with all of my heart. It will be loved.” I take a breath. “Neil, I need to know if you want to raise this child with me.”
            He takes his time answering me. I swear it felt like years before he spoke again. “I can’t give this all up. Not yet.”
            “Others have done it, you know.” I said.
            “Yeah, well I’m not other people, now am I?” 
            I nodded at him, trying to push the tears back that have threatened to pour. I went into the back of the hotel and packed my bags. I said good-bye to the boys, avoiding Neil at all costs, and walked out of the room. When safely in the elevator, I let a few tears slip, sliding down the wall onto my knees, thankful no one joined me.
            I cleaned my face up and pushed through the doors of the hotel, only to run into a pack of paparazzi. I saw flashes of light, heard the clicks of cameras and the screaming of fans. I looked around for a way out, a gap in between the crazy fans and the noisy paparazzi. I found nothing. Having nowhere to run and hide from the mess I just created, I stood there in hopes that Phil and the security team would come running out after me.
            “Are you and Neil dating?” The paparazzi joined in.
            The last few months with Neil have been the best months of my life. Every second he wasn’t working, we would be together, watching movies or just talking. When I was with him, my life made sense. The world had meaning, and I felt as if I belonged. But lately, it felt like we were drifting, and I knew it was time to go, time to let him move on to better and bigger things. I knew I was holding him back. And, then there was the pregnancy announcement. After that, I knew my time with Neil was no more.
            I decided to end both of our misery. “Neil and I, well, it was a fling. A fling I will probably never forget. Neil is a great guy and I hope nothing but the best for him and the band. But, please, I beg of you, don’t let this little fling affect the way you see him. Thank you.” I nodded at the paparazzi, and turned to walk away, only to see Neil standing behind me.
            “You heard that, didn’t you?” I asked him.
            “Every single word,” He said with no emotion.
            “Uh, well, I’ll be going now.” I gave him a smile and walked away from him. He didn’t try to stop me, instead he talked to the paparazzi.
            “Was it really a fling?” A fan asked.
            “It might have been for her, but for me, no.” He said, and I laughed.
            “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I said. Neil looked over at me with wide eyes. “Not a fling for you? I told you I loved you after our night together and you laughed. You laughed. In my face! I honestly thought you felt the same way about me. At least, it seemed that way. You used me for your own selfish needs, and you know it.”
            “Blair, not right now, please.” He said.
            “Don’t worry, I’m leaving. You won’t see us again.” I said, covering my mouth. Neil looked around to see if anyone caught my slip. No one seemed to notice. I looked at him one more time before walking out of his life, for what I hoped to be forever.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Rosie

                I used to have a best friend. Her name was Abbie Lynn. I called her Rosie.
            Rosie was majestic and beautiful, something like a model. In the summertime, her auburn hair would get lighter. In the wintertime, her auburn hair would get so dark that the color reminded of a rose. That’s why I called her Rosie.
            Rosie and I were inseparable. We had every class in school together and went to the park every afternoon after school ended. My mother used to joke around and call Rosie her adopted daughter. In a reality, Rosie was the sister I never had but so desperately wanted.
            Rosie was outgoing and loving. She could make anyone smile, even on their lousiest of days. She could take a negative and turn it into a positive in a matter of minutes. She stood up for what she believed in and never put anyone down. She had the attention of every guy but found none of them interesting. She had the personality that everyone loved and wanted. She was an all-around great person.
            However, Rosie had secrets. She hid things from everyone, from me. How she looked and acted on the outside distracted those around her from thinking she had a problem on the inside. Every time I asked if she was okay, she would always say, “I’ve never been better” with a rock, solid smile. I would let it go but asked a few hours later, getting the same response.
            Rosie started to wear bracelets upon bracelets on her wrists. I thought it was just a new fashion statement for her. I didn’t ask her about them then but I wished I had. As the days passed, the amount of bracelets on her arm continued to grow as did my worry. But she kept reassuring me that she was fine. And then one day both of our worlds came crashing down.
            It was October 23rd when Rosie played hooky for the first time. Something was off about her, but I didn’t know what it was. But, knowing who Rosie was and that school meant the world to her, I knew I had to check on her. I walked into her house and found her in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, pushing her fingers into her mouth, and throwing up. She yelled at me to leave, to never discuss what I saw. I just stared at her, tears threatening to pour out of my eyes. There was my best friend, broken, and I could do nothing to help her.
            The next day, she was at school. She looked terrible. If you knew Rosie, you would know that she couldn’t go a day without straightening or curling her hair, wearing make-up that made her golden eyes pop, and a smile that could stop the world. Something was wrong with her. Rosie was no longer the Rosie I once knew.
            Rosie talked to me less and less. She started hanging out with the group of people we used to make fun of. She wore darker make-up, dark clothing, and dyed her beautiful auburn hair black. I looked at her and saw some girl trying to be something she isn’t. I looked at her and saw a girl with so many secrets bottled up that she would rather change than express them. I looked at her and saw my best friend in pain.
            I walked up to her one day during Economics class. She gave me a funny look. I ignored it. “Rose, how are you?” I asked her.
            “I’m fine. Why do you keep asking me that?” She snapped.
            “Rosie, you aren’t fine. I remember what I saw a while ago. Just talk to me please.” I begged.
            “Listen,” She started but was cut off by the bell to start class.
            That was the last chance I had to talk to Rosie. She shut me out completely. She used to wave to me or text me here and there, but after that day, we no longer talked. She knew all of my secrets and I knew none of hers.
            I walked into my house one day to see her sitting at my kitchen table. I stopped in my tracks. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just stood there. Thankfully, my mom came to my rescue.
            “Rosie here said she really needs to talk to you.” My mother said.
            “Do you really?” I asked Rosie.
            She just nodded. My mom left the room and Rosie turned towards me. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, Cora. I’ve been thinking a lot about my life.”
            “What about it, Rosie?”
            Tears were running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to live it anymore. These past couples of months have been hell. There is a lot you don’t know, Cora.  A lot I hid from you because I didn’t want you worrying. But I can’t leave this life; leave you without you knowing what I’ve been through.”
            “Don’t say stuff like that, Rosie. I can help you through this. Through all of it, I promise you.” I cried.
            “Cora, I need you to listen to me. I need you to listen to the story I am about to tell you. Can you do that for me?” She asked, and I nodded. “It was about a month ago when I met a guy on the internet. I know it was bad but he made me feel special and loved. At first, I told myself that I would only talk to him for a little while until I found someone around here that interested me. As you know, that never happened. But this guy, this guy was something special. He wrote lovely poems for me, he wrote a beautiful song for me. And once all that sank in, I knew he was the “one.” And, that’s when everything changed. I was fine with a relationship over the internet. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to meet him. I wanted to see his gorgeous smile in person but I wasn’t ready for him to see me.
            “He didn’t understand why I didn’t want to meet him. He got pushy and demanded that we meet or he would break it off with me. So, against my better judgment, I met up with him. He was even more beautiful in person, Cora. He was so beautiful that it pained me to stare at him. When we were walking around town and he grabbed my hand, he smiled at me and I swear my heart stopped beating. That’s when I knew I was in love.” She looked down at her hands and I saw a tear fall.
            “Rosie, what happened?” I whispered.
            “I was in love with him, Cora. I fell head-over-heels in love with him. He didn’t feel the same. The second time we went out, he asked me if I ever had sex before. I said no. He smiled at me. Not his usually beautiful smile, no. This smile sent chills down my spine. I was scared, and I think he could sense it. He rubbed my back and told me everything would be okay. That night, after we went to see a movie, he drove me to a vacant lot and, and he raped me, Cora.”
            Rosie cried uncontrollably. I pulled her into my arms and cried with her. I understood right then why she didn’t tell me. She was ashamed of something she had no control over. After a good ten minutes of crying, she finished her story.
            “That was the first time it happened. It happened twice. And, after the last time, he told me that if I told anyone, he would hurt me. I don’t know what he is capable of. I don’t want him hurting Emmie, Cora. I couldn’t live with myself.” She said.
            “You need to tell someone. He can’t get away with what he did to you.” I said.
            “No, Cora, I can’t. And you can’t either.” She said.
            I shook my head. “I can’t, Rosie.”
            “I know you can’t, and that’s why I told you. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to live this life anymore. I don’t want to live a life where I’m afraid to walk outside. I’ve come to terms with my decision of suicide and I’m ready to go.” She said.
            “You’re ready to go? Did you tell Emmie or your parent’s good-bye? You can just live with the fact that Emmie is losing a sister and your parents are losing a daughter? What about me? I’m going to lose you, the best and only friend I’ve ever had.” I snapped.
            “Cora, I’m already dead on the inside.” She ripped off her bracelets, exposing her scars. “See, now? I’m already dead.”
. . . . . . . . .
            Rosie spent the night one last time. Everything was perfect. We watched our favorite movies and order take-out. We gushed about the boys we were crushing on. It all felt normal. It felt like nothing ever happened between the two of us.
            When we finally lay down to go to bed, the realization hit that this was the last night we would spend together, our last sleep-over, our last girl’s night.  I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking of everything that we would never get to do together.
            I woke up the next morning, eyes burning from crying the night before. I looked over the blow-up mattress and started crying again. Rosie was gone. I didn’t leave my bedroom after she left. I had no appetite, no need for human interaction. I waited in my room for the phone call I was dreading. I waited for my mom to yell to me, saying that she was dead, that she took her own life.
            The call came at 11:45 that night. Rosie took her own life shortly before 10. Emmie found the body. My mom and I held each other as we cried. I kept thinking about Emmie. I kept seeing her face as she found her dead sister’s body. I kept thinking that I could have stopped her death.
            The night before Rosie’s funeral, Rosie’s mom stopped by to give me something Rosie wrote me.
            “Emmie found this on Abbie’s desk and I wanted to make sure you had it.” She handed me a letter and started to walk away but stopped. “Cora?”
            “Yeah?” I asked.
            “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to my Abbie. And, I hope you are doing well. I hope to see you there tomorrow to give a final good-bye to Abbie.” She said and walked away.
            I opened the letter:
            Cora Bear,
                        Remember when I gave you that nickname? I still have the bear I named after you when we went to Build-A-Bear. We had some great times together. I could not have imagined a better friend to tell all my secrets to and spend all my time with. You never once gave up on our friendship when I isolated myself. You never once stopped believing that we would be best friends forever. You never once thought less of me, especially after I told you what happened, and I think that will be what I take with me when I leave.
            Cora, none of this is your fault and I need you to understand that. What that guy did to me is my fault. It’s my fault that I put myself into a situation to let that happen to me. And, I’m kicking myself for letting it happen. I should have known nothing good would come from talking to some guy on the internet. I’ve read articles, seen TV shows over it, but it didn’t stop me from doing it.
            I wish I was more like you, Cora. So brave, pure, and smart. You would never have talked to some random guy on the internet let alone meet up with him. You always knew what to do in situations like that. I wish I would have told you about him. I guess I was just too nervous and ashamed of what you might say to me about it. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on your face when I told you. I was more afraid of disappointing you than my own mother, if that tells you anything.
            Cora, the point of this letter is to say good-bye. But I can’t bring myself to say good-bye to you because I will see you again. To me, this is more like a see you later. Remember our very first sleep-over? I told you I had to leave and said good-bye but you stop because it wasn’t good-bye? That’s what I think of this now. I will see you again. I just hope it’s not too soon. You, Cora, have a bright future ahead of you and I don’t want you to take your life because of me. You will find another friend, you will fall in love, you have a family, and you will have a career. Remember that, please. And, promise me that you will tell your children about me.
I love you, sister,
Rosie


            I looked up toward the sky and whispered, “I promise.” 

Saturday, May 9, 2015

My Life is Going in One Direction

** If I can pull myself out of a terrible situation, then so can you. You just have to find a reason to fight. I found five. Here is how I feel about the five people I credit with helping me save my own life.**

One Direction:
                There comes a time in every young girl’s life when they fall for a boy. She sees the young boy every day and tries her very best to remember the sweet, velvet sound of his voice. She gets so obsessed with this boy that she thinks she’s in love, that nothing can come between them. She kisses a picture of him good-night, hoping that he would soon notice her. She knows anything and everything that has to do him, stuff that even his own mother wouldn’t know. She has fallen for a celebrity.
                Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, and Harry Styles, to me, you five are that “celebrity” that I’ve fallen in love with. The funny thing about my relationship with you is that it’s different than the relationship the young girls hope for. For those little girls, they are love-struck with your popularity, while, for me, I am truly in love with you all.
                I fell in love with the fact that you see the beauty in everyone and everything. You see the beauty in your fans. You call them passionate rather than crazy. You talk to them from your hotel rooms. You make sure they’re safe while waiting to see you. You give them the hope and love any young girl or teenage girl yearns for. Happiness. You make them happy. You make me happy.
                I fell in love with your personalities and your smiles. I fell in love with the way you five acted towards each other. I fell in love with your voices. But mostly, I fell in love with the way you made me feel like I was meant to be someone, the way you made believe I was beautiful, the way you made me feel safe. I fell in love with the way the five of you saved my life.       
                Three years ago, I was slipping into a very bad place. I would look in the mirror and get disgusted with myself (I’m what you would call chubby and not that very attractive). I found myself often comparing myself to models and people at my school. I never did anything right at home nor did I have amazing grades like my brother did. I wasn’t near as smart as he was and he told me that all the time. My grandparents would send newspaper clippings to my mom about obesity and diabetes, and exercise and weight loss to show to me. I never felt so bad before until I saw those clippings. I know my body isn’t the right size for my height but they made it seem like I liked living this way and made me feel even worse about myself. I felt cornered and had no one to talk to. I only had one good friend but she was fighting her own battles, and I wasn’t social enough to talk to anyone else. I felt and was alone.
                I was depressed. My grades took a turn for the worse and I could barely get out of bed for school. I put on a smile and pretended everything was okay when I went to school and when I was around my friends (It was rare to see me with anyone but the one friend I was talking about before). I was so good at it. No one ever thought that there was anything wrong with me. At night, I would cry myself to sleep and imagine a life where I was perfect in every way. But when reality hit, my perfect world went away.
                I heard about you over twitter and decided it wouldn’t hurt to look you up on YouTube. I fell in love instantly. I watched all your video diaries and your performances on X Factor, and it changed my life. Your video diaries got me to really laugh for the first time in months and it was a nice feeling. I listened to your performances over and over again for months and months as I waited patiently for your first single, album, anything. For the first time, I felt like myself and that’s all I ever wanted. I just wanted to love myself.
                When “What Makes You Beautiful” was released, I thought that I was truly beautiful. I listened to that song on repeat for weeks before I got the courage to start living my life the way I wanted to. My grades got better and I smiled all the time. It was, for once, my real smile. I felt on top of the world. I felt like nothing could stop me from being happy.
                Love ruined my happiness this time. I was head-over-heels in love with one of my brother’s friends. He was so nice to me. The way I felt around him was different than any feelings I’ve ever had before. I honestly thought it was love at first sight for me. Not so much for him. When he looked at me, it felt like he was looking right through me, like I was invisible. But when I realized he didn’t feel the same way about me, I felt worthless and thought that no one would love me. Depression was becoming a very close friend of mine. I tried listening to “What Makes You Beautiful” like I did before. It didn’t have an effect on me like the first time I turned to it for happiness.
                Instead, I watched your video diaries and your performances on the X Factor again, and I listened to the whole album of “Up All Night” on a daily basis. After a little while, I was myself again. And then “Take Me Home” was released and I felt on top of the world once more. “Little Things” had the most impact on me and I’m not quite sure why, but it did. It was the same way with “Kiss You” and “Live While We’re Young.” All your songs made me feel like the teenager I wanted to be instead of the one that I was becoming. I took control of everything that was happening to me and made it positive.
                “Midnight Memories” is by far the best album you’ve written. Every single song is relatable. When I feel myself going to a bad place, all I have to do is listen to “Diana.” It feels like that song was written for me, even though I know it wasn’t because I know I’m not the only one in a bad place. And saying that it was somehow written for me might make me seem a little selfish because a lot of other people are in far worse places than I am, but if being selfish saves my life, then selfish is what I’ll be. When I listen to that song, I can actually imagine you five coming to my rescue. “Diana” is the hand that is pushing me away from the edge.
                However, I have come to realize that I’ve been influenced by you all too much. I have come to realize that I can’t think I’m beautiful just because four British guys and one Irish guy tell me that I am. Well, you never really told me I am, but that’s how I portray it in “What Makes You Beautiful.” I need to be able to realize it on my own. You helped me through depression, problems with my family, and facing my first heartbreak. But, what you can’t help me do is feel beautiful. Trust me, I’ve tried and tried to convince myself that you think I’m beautiful, that all girls are. Let’s face it, you can’t say that. You’ve never met us, never met me.  You don’t know our problems. You don’t truly know if we’re beautiful or not.
                I decided to tell you MY story because I believe you have the right to know how you’ve helped me. I also decided to tell you MY story because, in a weird way, I think of you as my best friends. And, honestly, I couldn’t imagine any other guys being my friend’s like you’ve been to me. But, I mainly told you MY story because of what I said about being “beautiful” and how you don’t truly know if someone is beautiful. Now, you know my problems and what all I’ve been through. Maybe now, I can truly be beautiful in someone’s eyes.
                I told you all of this because this is an appreciation letter and a thank you letter wrapped into one. I don’t think of you five as saving my life. It’s more like you gave me the strength to save my own life. I was headed down a dark path before I heard about you. Who knows where I would be if you all were never on the X Factor, and I don’t really want to think about that.  You gave me the strength to realize that I needed to love myself before I could go out and chase my dreams. And that’s what I’m doing. I graduated high school in the top 50 of my class with an Honor’s Diploma. I’m in college now, Ball State University, working on my degree in Creative Writing and Journalism. I’m happy about where my life is at the moment and it’s because of all of you.
                So, Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, and Louis Tomlinson, thank you so much for giving me the strength to be myself. Thank you for being there when no one else was. Thank you for showing me that life is worth living. Thank you for telling me to chase my dreams. And, lastly, thank you for helping me feel beautiful inside and out. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Thank you all for being who you are.

Gone

Sparkling white teeth and bright green eyes haunt me at night, wise thoughts and sweet words fall from his mouth. He hovers over me, a paper airplane necklace hanging from his neck, dangling in front of my face. I reach out to grab it, only for it to disappear. “Harry?” I whisper. I hear him laugh. Looking around, the room is dark. No one is here. Flipping over onto my stomach, I picture his handsome face just inches away from mine, how I woke up every day for five years. I could feel his presence, like a cold burst of air on a warm July night, reminding me of my loss and heart break. He was the love of my life. The bright light that shown through at my darkest of times; the savior that I desperately needed to keep me sane; and, the sweetness when I was sour. He visits me most nights, gracing me with his presence, and leaving me with an overwhelming feeling of love and protection.