Journal II (new!)
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Stories & some Poems
Diary I
Across the counter, he was safe. He looked so nice. The button down brought out the ocean blue in his eyes, the forest green Puma's reminded me of all the dorky things he's said. I asked that day. He just tilted his head to one side and smiled with only half of his lips, "I think," he said, "it was a joke." My face turned red and must have burst into flames, although the only thing I really remember was the sidewalk. Bright lines of chalk were now softened by rain, and I had desprately tried to erase them completely with my toe. I had wished I could've erased my existence in that day, in those 10 minutes, because my embarassment meant nothing but a laugh for him. I'd spent what seemed like weeks bothered by his words. Yes, and maybe, just maybe I imagined the soft words I had sworn he'd said that night. But no, I didn't create the look in his eyes. That was as real as the chalk lines I couldn't erase. So why am I confused with where I stand? shouldn't I be holding your hand now?
