Books by Famous Fictional Characters

Books by Famous Fictional Characters.

Pollen. Public enemy no. 1

Pollen. Public enemy no. 1.

Before I Let You Go

I’ve decided that there’s no point in being the pretend “just friends” if we never even talk anymore.

I’ve also decided that I should probably ask you the questions I’ve been wanting to ask you before I decide whether to cut the ties, or try to knot them over one more time.

There’s only one little problem with that.

I don’t really know exactly what these questions are, or how to word how my heart feels, or wants to know.

I mean, I don’t want to make it sound like I’m mad or upset or whatever.

But I do want you to be honest with me..

Like..

How long before I ended the relationship had you been thinking about doing it yourself?

But.. Do I really want to know the answer to that question?

And even if I do, what is it going to do for me? How will it help me get over you?

But then.. There’s also the question

Did you purposely avoid hanging out with me? You had no time before we broke up, and then right after you had all kinds of time to spare.. You hung out with my best friend more often than you hung out with me..

UGH.

I don’t even need to ask you anything. There’s never been a point. It will never help me get over you, or help me stop feeling all discontent at night.

Maybe I feel like it’s necessary to let you know that I forgive you. But how the hell do I do that without explaining myself?

What if you think that I have a reason to apologize to..?

I mean, i do, I should have tried harder. I should have done a lot of things. But I moped around, and refused to let you in..

I guess I should just let you know that I’m sorry for what happened, that I don’t regret the relationship at all, and that I forgive you for not trying either. I still love you, but I won’t tell you that, because it’s harder to explain why. I’ll always care for you. I miss you.  It’s exhausting being mad all the time. I love you.

 

BUT HOW DO I TELL YOU ALL OF THIS WITHOUT MAKING YOU FEEL AWKWARD AGAIN.

You have a tendency to not read through a big paragraph thing. You’ve done it to me before.

I forgive you for not trying. I’m sorry for not trying. I love you. Have a great summer.

Short enough? Check. To the point? Check. Will I ever even send this to you? Probably not.

26. it’s all a sham 27. sugar coated 28. wonder woman

I’ve decided to mash all three of these together, because I think I can make them fit nicely together. I’d really like comments on what you guys think about this little guy. Thank you (:

 

 

“There’s only about two weeks left for her, Mr. Hayle,” I heard the doctor’s muffled voice explain to my father from behind the hospital door.

“There’s really no hope? Nothing we can do to save her?” My father pleaded back, in a lower muffled voice than the doctor’s.

“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry.”

The door swung open, and the doctor walked out. He caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye, and stopped to look pitifully at me. Then he continued down the hall to devastate the next family.

“It’s a sham,” my 12 year old brother said as he sat down next to me on the floor.

“What? A sham? What is?”

“This whole thing. God’s just testing us. Mom and dad. You and me. It’s a test. Mom’s going to live,” Tristan sounded so certain, but he’d never spoken about God before. He even refused to speak about religion. So why now?

“How do you know, Tris? You don’t even like God,” Tristan looked away, almost embarrassed that he’d said anything.

“I.. God.. Just forget I said anything.”

“No. Tell me.”

“I had a dream last night that really freaked me out. I’d been praying, because I’d lost all hope in anything, and He,” Tristan looked toward the ceiling of the hospital, “He sent an angel into my dreams, and the angel told me not to be scared, that God’s got this under control, and that mom’ll be alright.”

I could only look at my brother, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. God sent an angel into his dreams?

“The doctor was Satan,” he continued to say, and I couldn’t help myself, I stood and walked away, “Mar, come back. I’m not trying to upset you. You wanted to know. I didn’t want to sugar coat anything.”

“You think I’m freaked out because what you said wasn’t sugar coated?” I shouted at him, “That’s not it!” I didn’t really know what it was. I just knew I was upset. I swiped at  the tears that suddenly appeared on my face.

“Marilyn. I promise that she’ll be okay. She’s our mom. She’s like freaking wonder woman! Not to mention the fact that she’s been promised a longer life by God!”

“I just can’t right now.” I walked into the bathroom, locked myself in a stall and cried until there were no more tears left to cry.

“Marilyn?” My best friend Hazel came to get me out of the bathroom, “Marilyn, it’s time to go.”

“What time is it?” I left the stall and caught the sight of my puffed up face.

“Not a time you need to worry about. Come on. You need a bath and a good night’s sleep.”

“Let me wash my face really quick. I’ll be right out.”

“Alright.”

She left the bathroom and I made my way to the sink. I looked into my own eyes. The blue that was normally dull and pale, was bright and vibrant from my many hours of tears. My brown hair was mussed from me running my hands through it. Even my freckles looked angry. I sighed, splashed water on my face, and left the bathroom.

I stayed the night at Hazel’s that night, and when I woke up, my brother had come over, and was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me with the widest grin I’d ever seen.

“Good morning, Mar.”

“Morning,” I sat up, and rubbed my eyes.

“I was right, Marilyn. I was right.”

“What?”

“The cancer cells, they’re all gone. Not one of them can be found. She’s healthy.”

Whether mom was Wonder Woman, or God came to Tristan in a dream, I was still as astonished when I woke up, as I was when I got to the hospital and walked into my mom’s room. She was awake, she was smiling, and she was healthy.

“We don’t understand. This is a miracle beyond us,” The doctor said, looking bewildered.

“God is good,” I whispered, as I ran across the room and into my mom’s arms.

and I can’t wait, to see you again

I get to see my dad soon. Haven’t seen him in a year, and it’s always this time of the year that I start to get all apprehensive about going, because I don’t want to leave when the summer’s over. I don’t know what snaps in my brain, but something makes me nervous and excited at the same time. I’ve missed my dad so much lately, and I can’t wait to see him.  (:

25. ridiculous statement

I’ve decided that I want to just write about whatever topic I feel like writing about, since I haven’t been able to keep up, or get inspiration from all of these topics. I’ll stay in the same month, and I won’t stray but a few days, but I just feel like writing, but I’ve not had anything to really write about. Conveniently enough, the topic for today is actually inspiring. So, here we go.

 

“It’s not you, it’s me,”

That single sentence throws me into a five year old’s kind of rage. That’s the most ridiculous statement ever created. If you’re going to break up with me, don’t EVER say that. EVER. But I simply nod my head, smile, and defensively say, “No, that’s right, it really WAS you,” and then walk away a winner.

I can just picture his face in my mind, standing there like a fool, mouth agape. I smile to myself as I board the bus to go home. He asked me to meet him at my favorite place just to dumb me. Jerk. He thought he was going to win this one. He thought he could hurt me. Well, he did, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone see that he really did. I cannot let anyone know how pissed off, and sad I am that he decided to hurt me like this, because then word will get back to him, and he’ll know that I lost.

 

 

–

 

So. Yeah, I just noticed how many break up stories I’ve written. Maybe I should try to branch off into something else..

21. something breaks

I know I skipped 20, I don’t care, there was no inspiration.

 

“Hey, look. It’s just that.. I don’t.. love you anymore.”

“Okay,” I can’t think of anything else to say. I look up at him and can’t read his face, he’s got something hidden under the surface. Probably another person to love.

“Well, so it’s cool if we can be just friends now, right?”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

Something breaks inside as I watch him walk away, not looking back. The boy that I love unconditionally doesn’t even feel mutually in any sense of the word. There is no feeling that can be identified. I stand in the middle of the sidewalk leading into the high school, feeling, and probably looking like an idiot. I don’t care, though, I don’t care that my papers are falling out of my binders, and being taken away on the wind. I don’t care that most of the school population saw that happen. I pick up my papers and walk inside, sitting down against the wall. I start to look for whatever broke inside of me. Searching desperately for every broken piece, so I can start the mending process. It’s so broken. The pieces aren’t even shards, they’re more like slivers, splinters of what used to be a part of me. As I’m searching I notice something on my shirt. Wet dots are appearing like a rain cloud is sitting on my chest. Something itches on my cheeks, and as I swipe at them, I notice my hands are wet. I was crying. Not out of sadness, because I just lost him. But out of pain. Being broken inside hurts. I ask my Father to help put the pieces back together, and He does. The tears have stopped falling, I’m smiling again. The people across from me look in my direction with confusion.

“Are you okay?” A girl asks, as she walks by, “I saw what happened, I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m fine, actually,” I smile at her.

“You don’t have to lie, I know that it hurts,” she looks at me with her best ‘Mom-look’.

“I’m actually not. It does hurt, but I know that the hole in me isn’t boy shaped.”

The girl looks at me inquisitively and sits down next to me.

“It’s not boy shaped, it’s God shaped. He fills the void perfectly, because I don’t need love from humans, I just need it from him.”

“Interesting spin on that.”

“I know, but while the pain still lingers, I think I really will be okay.”

 

 

 

 

 

—

This was kind of inspired by the mixture of the topic, and my best friend. <3

[insert my best string of profanities here]

I feel the need to explain something, and whether it’s to convince myself that I’m not crazy, or to prove to someone that it’s okay to feel like this afterwards, then whatever, take out of this what you will.

 

Yes, I did break up with him.

Yes, I was very unhappy while I was still in the relationship.

These two things are facts that I know everyone is aware of. I just can’t control myself from missing his kiss. From missing his hugs, when I could get him to hug me. I miss him. And, although I’m still mad at him, slightly, I know that some people might think, and I think that I’m out of line for feeling these things. If I’m the one who left him, then I shouldn’t feel like a chunk of me is missing still. I should be pretty much healed by now. But it still hurts.

I don’t even know what my issue is, because I’ve never experienced something like this. I mean, I feel like something has died. I think I can honestly say that I was, well, am, in love with him. I just had enough wit about me to be able to know that it wasn’t working.

Breaking up with someone doesn’t mean that you’re doing it because you don’t care about them anymore. Sometimes there are those situations where you know it won’t work. I know that I’m going to find someone that can make enough time to spend with me, because I know that I need a lot of their time and attention.

I hate myself for feeling this way. I mean, I honestly feel like I shouldn’t be feeling this. I am the one who broke up with him.

 

I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about the Sunday that we’d finalized the whole thing, and he seemed relieved by it. He said he’d been planning to do it, and that I’d just beat him to the punch.

Ow.

Well, if I’ve learned anything from that relationship, it’s that boys aren’t worth the time or effort at the moment, and that God is the only one that I need to make me happy now. That I need to wait for someone who encourages my faith, and makes me a better Christian, not someone who pulls me away from him. So..

Thank you, dear, that was a good thing for me to learn.

I guess.

19. cinnamon

..There is like. Nothing that I can do to incorporate this topic into my blog. It’s just so.. abstract and random that.. I’d make a fool of myself. So.. Off to school work, I suppose.

18. hopelessly romantic

All of my friends are hopeless romantics. I, however, am a realistic cynic. I see the good and the bad and assume the bad will happen. I just don’t have a tendency to get my hopes up, because I’ve been let down too many times to count. I know that sometimes there are good outcomes, and I am super thrilled when those arrive. I am just always as prepared for the worst as I can possibly get.  Sometimes I’ll listen to my friends gush over something, and I’d be like, “yeah, that would be cute, but it probably won’t happen.” I’m that person. Oops? I mean, sometimes I kinda wish I could be hopelessly romantic, but I just cannot manage to get there. I think it’s an endearing quality in people, and in no way am I saying that being a hopeless romantic makes you blind to being realistic. But there are some people out there who sit and wait for their prince charming, when really, they need to pick up those tools, and get to work building the ladder to get out of the tower. I tend to like the movie Hercules, and not just because I like to learn about mythology and whatnot, but because of something the love interest Megara says; “I am a damsel. I am in distress. I don’t need your help. Have a nice day.”

Well, something along those lines anyways. I dunno, I just find that to be something that I can relate to greatly. Being a hopeless romantic is not a bad thing. It’s just not necessarily MY thing.