This is where I'll put everything non-anime related. I will definitely put in short stories, possibly some poetry, and...maybe a chapter story. We'll see. Hope you enjoy!

We're Still Freshmen After All

I hope you read this someday.

Not today. Not tomorrow. Not even this year. I want you to read this 30 years from now, when you’re broken and sobbing and kicking yourself for making such a stupid decision. I want you to go up to your attic, dust this off, and remember.

I want you to remember me for who I really was. Not the fun, crazy girl who spent her time trying to convince others that she was okay, that she didn’t care what everyone else thought. I want you to remember how she was always looking down when she walked, how she was always so guarded with her words and, for such a long time, only wanted to share them with you. You, who could be found at the center of every single one of her words.

Thirty years from now, her words may still be about you, on occasion. They’ll be words of fondness, love, and a touch of the regret that plagues her now.

Because if she had changed just one minute all those years ago, her world would have become a different place.

So, she wants to thank you. No matter what you did wrong, what you did right, what you shouldacouldawoulda fixed, you gave her her words, something else no one else ever bothered to give her.

Know that I holds my head high when I walk now, that I take the time to describe the shades of red and blue and green in my heart that make up my memories of you. Know that I take the initiative to share my heart with the little girl on the street gazing into the candy shop windows, the old man feeding the pigeons in the park, and even the publisher who told me he wants my words to be heard.

He likes my words. He likes you. Maybe we did something right after all.

And Going Up

I love

Saturdays. The summer breeze. Sleeping in. The first snowflake. The satisfying crunch of icy snow underfoot. Shooting stars, 11:11, eyelashes. One last chance. Polka dots. The last piece of cake. The night life, too-loud music, too much oxygen. Lunch dates. A brand new book, never opened. Christmas lights.


I need

Three square meals a day. Sixty minutes of exercise. Relaxation. Sneakers without holes in them. Time. That first cup of coffee in the morning. Conversation, determination, innovation. Heartfelt repercussions.

Something different than you.

I want

A bigger apartment. A dog. Eyeliner. Long car rides, starry night skies, romance. A cliché. Reliable service. Faith. Connections, perseverance, success. The hottest new thing. Memories, photographs, grandpa’s knotted old Irish sweater. A new coat of paint, a mirror without a crack.


Forever's Not Forever

Twirl your hair, bat your eyes, it won’t do anything for you now. Daddy isn’t here to bring back what you want.

The air smelled like dusty old memories, like tears long buried and forgotten. The heat swelled up from the sun-scorched pavement, blistering and angry against my bare feet. I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all anymore. Because they were never coming back. My home was gone, and they were never coming back.

But you came, exactly when I needed you. I felt curl your arm around my shoulders as I stood there in the street, shielding me from the sun. The sun reminded me of them. I clung to you, despite everything that had happened. Because of everything that had happened.


I always dreamed of having a happy, Hallmark relationship, full of secret love letters and chocolates and roses, nights spent with you on a lonely stretch of highway. I never thought we’d be the ones to have it. But I loved it. It was all I ever wanted.

And the last thing I was left with when they all left me all alone on Earth.

Or almost alone. I still had you.

And so we laid there in the sparkling, sugar-dusted sky, your fingers filling the spaces between mine. You asked me if this was what forever felt like. And when I thought about a forever with you, for a moment I could forget the last time I ever saw my family alive, forget the bleak run-on days at school, forget those all-too-fake-sympathetic looks and pity-presents and hugs that everyone around me seemed to think would make me feel better. And all I needed to remember when I was with you was the way our stars looked at night. I hope so, I said.

And for a while, our forever was enough. You made the pain that threatened to overpower me in crushing waves lessen to a trickle.

But the little memories of the life I had lost still seeped in. Me and Mom baking a cake for Dad’s birthday and getting into a flour fight. Dad pushing me on the swing. My little sister tugging at my hand and begging me to play Barbie with her. Going to Disneyworld and riding the Tower of Terror until I puked. All of us piling on the couch just to watch some old movie from the 60’s and finding out that the only good part was listening to a penniless woman scream “Move your bloomin’ arse!” during a horserace full of uptight rich people.

We had stopped the tape right after that part.


Now roses are overrated and chocolates make me nauseous. And our long nights under the sky together only made me lonely. Because you were still just as sweet as the day I had met you, but instead of seeing the green in your eyes, I saw the grass under the swing Daddy used to push me on, and instead of feeling your arms around me I felt my little sister tugging at my clothes like she always used to when she wanted me to play with her. I don’t want to remember you this way.

So I went back to my house alone that night. Alone forever…whatever forever was. Because apparently it wasn’t what we had thought.

I laid in the grass and stared up at the velvety night sky. There are no fingers in between mine. Stars sparkled in my eyes, and I hoped they would flow up into the sky too, up where they would be seen, be loved, be remembered. Where they couldn’t fade.

And the next day, I pushed myself on the swings. I gave all of my sister’s Barbie dolls to the little girl down the street. My sister would have wanted me to. She always used to say they need to be taken care of.


I saw you walking down the sun-scorched street in a pair of brand new sneakers today. Your arm was around another girl’s shoulders, holding her close. You saw me and gave me a timid smile, something at once undeniable and unforgettable in your eyes. And I smiled back at you, thinking, his eyes are such a beautiful shade of green.

I’m glad you’re happy now. Now that you’re happy, and you’re free, maybe I can be, too.

11 Things You'll Never Know

I found this on dA, and had to try it. It's really fun to do.
- list 11 things you want to say to 11 different people.
- don't say who they pertain to.
- feel free to comment, but don't confirm or answer anything.
- never discuss it again.


I used to dream about you.
I was so sure that we
were going to be happy, but
You turned out to be
Just another disappointment.

You and I used to be friends; all
three of us did.
But then you stopped talking to me,
and to her.
And I think that both
she and I are a little bit angry.


I always used to think that you
And I would grow up to be
bestbest friends.
But now I realize
That I need to trust my instinct
and not trust you.
You’re exactly what I feared you’d be.
And I can’t even respect you for it.


I had a thousand chances.
I never took any of them.
I should have.

I only see you
once a year, at most.
But even now,
every time I see you
looking at me with those eyes,
not speaking a word
as you walk away again
For another whole year,
my knees go weak.


You know me better
than I ever thought you could,
in such a short amount of time.
It amazes me.
And I love you for it.


Without you…
I would never have become the same person
I am today.
And I’m glad I didn’t.
Thank you.


You and I were never close.
We just liked to pretend we were.
But now, you’re the only one
who’s still pretending.

You swore you’d never
turn into your mother.
You refuse to admit you’d ever
be like her.
But you’re wrong.
You’re exactly like her.
And that’s why we fight.
Like mother, like daughter.
I hope I don’t become like you.

I don’t think I want to
be here anymore.
I think I want to do…
something else.

I love you.
With all my heart.

Give It Back? Never.

My favorite game has always been ours. The one with the unspoken rules.

We used to play it every day. And I still remember it perfectly. I still think back on it, and smile.


“Oh, hello, Martha!” my mother called cheerfully, waving. I looked up from the pile of dirt I was inspecting, groaning when I realized that Martha had brought along her daughter. Annie was seven years old, like me, but she was a girl. “Annie,” my mother said sweetly, “Zach’s over there if you want to play.”

She came running towards me.

I jutted my chin out defiantly. What do I need her here for? I’m more than capable of playing by myself, thank you!

“Hi Zach!” she chirped happily as she skidded to a stop next to me, her dress flapping along behind her.

“What do you want?” I muttered irritably. If she moved even a step forward, she would ruin my dirt pile with her stupid bare feet. And I needed that dirt for…experiments. And dirt bombs. I began to separate the dirt bombs from the rest of the dirt, putting them in their own little pile.

“You’re going to step in my dirt pile!” I said angrily. This girl was such a pain. She was worse than useless.

“Oh! Sorry!” she quipped, jumping back a few steps. I ignored her, focusing on organizing my dirt bombs instead. After a few minutes, Annie timidly kneeled down next to me. “I like that one!” she informed me, pointing to the smallest dirt bomb.

I picked it up. “This one?” I asked. She nodded eagerly. “Hmph,” I boasted, crushing it between my fingers. “Why? You can’t do anything with it, anyway.”

Annie’s face fell. “Why’d you do that? That was the cutest one!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I‘ve ever heard!”

“Well, then, let’s go look at those pretty white flowers over there then! C’mon!” She jumped up, grabbing my hand and dragging me along behind her.

“I don’t want to go look at some stupid girly flowers!” I whined.

But she laughed.

“They’re so pretty!” She squealed, stopping suddenly in front of the flower patch.

“No, they’re not,” I snapped, kicking the petals off of the green stems.

They were so green…why did they need to compete with the flowers, anyway?


The days passed, weeks, months. We kept playing our game. And then the rules changed.

“Zach! Zach!” Annie wasn’t even in my yard yet, but she was still screaming to me as she crossed the street.

“Mommy! We have to hurry so I can show Zach!” She was beaming. Was it excitement? Or was it hope? My seven-year-old brain didn’t notice. Or it didn’t care.

“AHHH!” I screamed, running to hide behind my mother. “Mommy! Why does she have to come here every day? And now she’s going to poison me, Mommy! AHHH!”

My mother shook her head and clucked at me, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Don’t be so rude, Zach! She’s not going to poison you! Now, come out from behind me, and go see what Annie has to show you!” With a final nudge from my mother and a kind smile from Martha, the two women left us on the front lawn and walked away towards the patio, chattering.

“Do you want to see, Zach?” Annie bounced up to me, her mouse brown hair framing her face in waves.

“Ugh, let’s just get it over with,” I grumbled. She smiled, reaching into the folds of her dress.

I never understood the purpose of a dress. It looked like all it did was get in the way. Pants seemed so much easier to wear. I asked Annie about it once, but she said that boys weren’t allowed to know. I guess that was just another rule.

“I want you to keep it, Zach.” She held out her cupped hands, and I peered inside. Was that…blue? I reached in and pulled out a small, clay heart. I turned it in my fingers and realized only part of it was blue; it was all different colors, combined to make one...thing. “What is it?” I held it carefully, as if I were holding a life in my hands.

“It’s my heart,” she said simply. “Mrs. Cedy helped us make them at school. It took us a week! She told us to give them to someone important to us to hold onto. So I did.”

I smiled, clutching the heart tighter in my fingers. “Girls do the weirdest, stupidest things!”

But she smiled.


I turned it over in my fingers again and again. Thinking back to that day so many years ago, barely aware of the wild grin rapidly spreading across my face. Of course I had kept that little clay heart.

“Zach! Martha and Annie are here for dinner!” My mother called up the stairs.

“Coming!” I called back, carefully locking her little clay heart in my desk drawer. I slipped the key and its chain around my neck and clomped down the stairs.

I wonder if she knows she has mine.