InfinitePlaylist
Status:
Joined: May 18, 2012
Last Seen: 1 decade
user id: 300700
Joined: May 18, 2012
Last Seen: 1 decade
user id: 300700
16
Quotes
229 Favorites
25 Following
25 Followers
Comment Points
Comments
Comments on Quotes
Comments by User
Quote Comments by User
Flair
229 Favorites
25 Following
25 Followers
Comment Points
Comments
Comments on Quotes
Comments by User
Quote Comments by User
Flair
heeeeey guys, it's me, Anna
I'm not new to Witty, but this IS my first time using my name and being myself.
Let's just say I haven't had a happy past, but I'm ready to forget that and move on.
I've hurt a lot of people in my past, but that stops. now.
I like to write, so I hope you like my story! :) and If anyone wants, I'd love to read their story.
get to know me, i like meeting new people :)
soo yea, that's about it.
Quotes by InfinitePlaylist
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Fifteen: I want a mother.
When I got to school the next day, it could've been just like any other time walking into the building before a week ago. I had a backpack full of books, a carefully saran-wrapped lunch in my hands, and eight hours full of classes to happily endure. Only this time, I had to promise of coming home to a father in a few weeks time.
I was going to miss Josh, but I would survive.
Now all I have to do is find a place to stay while my dad is at the care center, which will be no walk in the park. I spot him as I make my way to my locker.
Josh is standing across the hall in a loose group of guys and girls I recognize as the "in" crowd. He's smiling, of course, and is laughing at some joke a pretty girl with straight blonde hair made. His hands are deep in the pockest of his jeans, and blondie leans over to touch his arm every once in a while, communicating that she would like very much to hold that hand he's hiding.
I feel a pang of jealousy.
So what if Josh wants to hold the hand of some bubble-brained twit who couldn't read past the level of a third grader? It's his choice.
I slam my locker shut, and hurriedly escape to my first class of the day, taking my seat fifteen minute early.
Josh's POV:
I saw her walk in. That tall willowy frame, with her superlong brown hair and green eyes, hiding behind her bangs. I watch the firm set of her mouth, and remember how hard it was to get her to smile, yet how amazing it felt when she finally did.
I take in all of her layered clothing, the carefully hidden cuts and bruises, and wish I knew how to help her.
The girl next to me, Sadie, I think her name is, is trying to get my attention. I realize she's made a joke and laugh heartily along with the others, though I have no idea what it was about and make no recollection of the punch line. My focus is on the mesmerizing disaster of a girl behind me.
Authors Note: feedback? I Know it's been a while...sorry. issues.
Confession Number Fifteen: I want a mother.
When I got to school the next day, it could've been just like any other time walking into the building before a week ago. I had a backpack full of books, a carefully saran-wrapped lunch in my hands, and eight hours full of classes to happily endure. Only this time, I had to promise of coming home to a father in a few weeks time.
I was going to miss Josh, but I would survive.
Now all I have to do is find a place to stay while my dad is at the care center, which will be no walk in the park. I spot him as I make my way to my locker.
Josh is standing across the hall in a loose group of guys and girls I recognize as the "in" crowd. He's smiling, of course, and is laughing at some joke a pretty girl with straight blonde hair made. His hands are deep in the pockest of his jeans, and blondie leans over to touch his arm every once in a while, communicating that she would like very much to hold that hand he's hiding.
I feel a pang of jealousy.
So what if Josh wants to hold the hand of some bubble-brained twit who couldn't read past the level of a third grader? It's his choice.
I slam my locker shut, and hurriedly escape to my first class of the day, taking my seat fifteen minute early.
Josh's POV:
I saw her walk in. That tall willowy frame, with her superlong brown hair and green eyes, hiding behind her bangs. I watch the firm set of her mouth, and remember how hard it was to get her to smile, yet how amazing it felt when she finally did.
I take in all of her layered clothing, the carefully hidden cuts and bruises, and wish I knew how to help her.
The girl next to me, Sadie, I think her name is, is trying to get my attention. I realize she's made a joke and laugh heartily along with the others, though I have no idea what it was about and make no recollection of the punch line. My focus is on the mesmerizing disaster of a girl behind me.
Authors Note: feedback? I Know it's been a while...sorry. issues.
L o s s
of
L o v
e
Prologue
All princess Nyx wants is to find that fairytale love, but how can she, when the feeling itself could be lost forever?
The nuclear war ravaged country of Narkh is in great dilemma. As the people of the world fight for greater power, it stuggles to form its own army. With 1/3 of the population depleted, the remaining veterans sick with PTSD, and mothers too afraid to give up their sons and husbands for to the death sentence of a cause, the parliament makes a diplomatic decision. The country's most esteemed scientists develop a solution. Darken, an emotion destroying medicine, is dealt to all men and boys ages 12 and up forced to join the cause.
sound good? Sorry me last story ended abruptly, I didn't get the kind of response I was looking for.
-Anna
Prologue
All princess Nyx wants is to find that fairytale love, but how can she, when the feeling itself could be lost forever?
The nuclear war ravaged country of Narkh is in great dilemma. As the people of the world fight for greater power, it stuggles to form its own army. With 1/3 of the population depleted, the remaining veterans sick with PTSD, and mothers too afraid to give up their sons and husbands for to the death sentence of a cause, the parliament makes a diplomatic decision. The country's most esteemed scientists develop a solution. Darken, an emotion destroying medicine, is dealt to all men and boys ages 12 and up forced to join the cause.
sound good? Sorry me last story ended abruptly, I didn't get the kind of response I was looking for.
-Anna
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Fourteen: Hospitals smell safe
An overtired nurse with a messy bun pinned to the back of her head escorts me to his room.
I feel a sharp intake of breath as I see all of the IV's and machines whirring around him and his sleepy figure.
"Daddy?" I ask tentatively.
He sees me, and then struggles to sit up. Disbelieving, he comments, "Colyssa, baby, is that you?"
I nod slowly, watching his face of horror as he takes me in. I cherish the fact that it's the first time I remember him saying my name.
I don't respond, and stand there as he looks at me, tears clouding his eyes. I notice for the first time how beautiful and blue they were, without being dilated and bloodshot.
He reaches out a hand to me, and I clasp it in my own without thinking, being careful of the IV.
"You look just like your momma. how...how old are you?" he asks, sadly realizing he doesn't know.
"I know daddy. I'm sixteen, almost seventeen."
He shakes his head as best he can with the neck brace.
"It's been nine years. Nine. I can't believe this."
"What?" I ask, wanting him to smile so badly.
"I don't know my own daughter. Do you still sing?"
I'm shocked at his question. I sang? I don't remember singing, not ever. My mind struggles to place this memory.
"Well we can start now."
He smiles, and I take it all in. The way the sunburned skin around his eyes crinkles, his unkempt beard crinkles, and his white teeth shine on through. A smile recognize.
A memory floods back with that smile. One of my mother wearing a black apron splattered with paint, dancing around her studio to a cheesy pop song waving a paintbrush in the air. Dad leans against the wall, watching and smiling. I run out from under the easel and join her, screaming along to the words and dancing like a maniac. He rushed in to pick me up and lifted me high towards the ceiling. "Daddy's little rockstar, huh Colly?" he'd asked me, smiling.
I sit down in a padded armchair, still clutching his hand, wiping tears from my eyes.
"We've got sixteen years to recap, better get started." He says.
***
Eleven hours later, after talking so much my voice is lost, I am told visiting hours are over and I need to leave. I kiss him on the cheek and make my out of the hospital wing. A doctor stops me, and I recognize him as Mr.Kohler, my father's doctor.
"You're Ms.VanPulson, am I right?"
I nod, folding my arms.
"I'm sorry about your father's current condition, we're doing everything we can to help him achieve a full recovery. He should be better in the next few weeks. If I'm correct, he is your only guardian, so it's my responsibility to ask you to find a place to stay while your father gets better? We don't want you home alone for such a long time."
"I'm prefectly fine taking care of myself, but thank you." I tell him. And before he can respond, I leave the hospital and head on home, school is long over.
I can't stop smiling. My Daddy's back, and he wants to know me, the real me. I've never done so much talking in my entire life. He doesn't have much to say about himself, the past nine years are all but a blur to his drunken memory, but he promises as soon as he gets out we're going to find him help. It's going to be a long few weeks.
Authors Note: as you can probably tell...I've kind of accidentally stopped notifications. I honestly don't have time and I'm so so sorry :( I hope you guys still read it, it's all for you, my amazing readers that I love so very much :) I hope you like everything so far, sorry it was kind of a boring chapter.
Confession Number Fourteen: Hospitals smell safe
An overtired nurse with a messy bun pinned to the back of her head escorts me to his room.
I feel a sharp intake of breath as I see all of the IV's and machines whirring around him and his sleepy figure.
"Daddy?" I ask tentatively.
He sees me, and then struggles to sit up. Disbelieving, he comments, "Colyssa, baby, is that you?"
I nod slowly, watching his face of horror as he takes me in. I cherish the fact that it's the first time I remember him saying my name.
I don't respond, and stand there as he looks at me, tears clouding his eyes. I notice for the first time how beautiful and blue they were, without being dilated and bloodshot.
He reaches out a hand to me, and I clasp it in my own without thinking, being careful of the IV.
"You look just like your momma. how...how old are you?" he asks, sadly realizing he doesn't know.
"I know daddy. I'm sixteen, almost seventeen."
He shakes his head as best he can with the neck brace.
"It's been nine years. Nine. I can't believe this."
"What?" I ask, wanting him to smile so badly.
"I don't know my own daughter. Do you still sing?"
I'm shocked at his question. I sang? I don't remember singing, not ever. My mind struggles to place this memory.
"Well we can start now."
He smiles, and I take it all in. The way the sunburned skin around his eyes crinkles, his unkempt beard crinkles, and his white teeth shine on through. A smile recognize.
A memory floods back with that smile. One of my mother wearing a black apron splattered with paint, dancing around her studio to a cheesy pop song waving a paintbrush in the air. Dad leans against the wall, watching and smiling. I run out from under the easel and join her, screaming along to the words and dancing like a maniac. He rushed in to pick me up and lifted me high towards the ceiling. "Daddy's little rockstar, huh Colly?" he'd asked me, smiling.
I sit down in a padded armchair, still clutching his hand, wiping tears from my eyes.
"We've got sixteen years to recap, better get started." He says.
***
Eleven hours later, after talking so much my voice is lost, I am told visiting hours are over and I need to leave. I kiss him on the cheek and make my out of the hospital wing. A doctor stops me, and I recognize him as Mr.Kohler, my father's doctor.
"You're Ms.VanPulson, am I right?"
I nod, folding my arms.
"I'm sorry about your father's current condition, we're doing everything we can to help him achieve a full recovery. He should be better in the next few weeks. If I'm correct, he is your only guardian, so it's my responsibility to ask you to find a place to stay while your father gets better? We don't want you home alone for such a long time."
"I'm prefectly fine taking care of myself, but thank you." I tell him. And before he can respond, I leave the hospital and head on home, school is long over.
I can't stop smiling. My Daddy's back, and he wants to know me, the real me. I've never done so much talking in my entire life. He doesn't have much to say about himself, the past nine years are all but a blur to his drunken memory, but he promises as soon as he gets out we're going to find him help. It's going to be a long few weeks.
Authors Note: as you can probably tell...I've kind of accidentally stopped notifications. I honestly don't have time and I'm so so sorry :( I hope you guys still read it, it's all for you, my amazing readers that I love so very much :) I hope you like everything so far, sorry it was kind of a boring chapter.
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Thirteen: I'm used to being alone.
I didn't know what else to do. So I got up, and got ready like usual. I kept my ears wide open, listening for any signs that he might be at home. Seven o'clock rolled around, and I didn't have time to spare and wait any longer, or I would be late.
At my locker, Josh sidles up, and without looking at me he fiddles with my lock, humming under his breath.
"So my mom was concerned when she found orange paint behind my ears. Must have missed a spot." He laughs, and glances up to see my reaction. I don't give him one. Just silently put books back on the top shelf. He kicks away my backpack, demanding my attention.
"What happened. Did he hurt you again?" He tries to move my sleeves, but I back away from him and retrieve my bag.
"I don't have time for this right now." I tell him.
"Time for what?" He asks.
"You."
He bangs a fist against the locker next to mine, and rests his head against the vents, frustrated. I see him bite his lip, trying to maintain emotional control. Sometimes I wonder if he has anger issues.
"I'm sick of this crap Colyssa! One day, we're best friends, and I see you coming out of that, that, SHELL you've made for yourself. The next day it's like nothing happened at all and you've friggin superglued that shell closed! I CAN'T. WIN."
I'm frightened by his sudden outburst, but unwavering.
"What do you want from me Josh? If you plan on somehow changing me, that's not going to happpen. I have a lot of things to do, and I can't have any distractions right now."
"You're always saying that! I don't need this! I don't NEED to be friends with you, in fact, the guys make fun of me for even trying! So why do I, huh? No, don't answer that. I'm sick of this Hot and Cold attitued thing. Forget it, I'm out."
with that, he turns his back on me and walks away. I don't have time to feel the sting of his words. For as soon as he walks away, another hand is on my shoulder. It's Mr.Hansen, the school guidance counselor.
"Excuse me, Colyssa, can we talk in my office for a bit?"
***
I've never been in here before. The walls are plain, but plastered with motivating posters, and it's furnished with tons of armchairs . He sits at his desk and puts on a pair of glasses, the kind people use to magnify words or pictures once their eyes get bad.
"We recieved a call from the Jackson Hospital this morning, you must have just missed it when you left this morning."
I feel my palms geting sweaty. He pauses. Why is he pausing. Just tell me already, Mr.H, spit it out.
"Your father got into a car accident last night."
I nod along, waiting for the punch line.
"He's in intensive care. At this point, they're fairly certain he'll make a full recovery."
I let out a full breath of air, relaxing, and slumping back in the chair.
"That's not all that I wanted to talk about." He adds, making his voice serious, yet light. A voice I'm sure he's practiced.
"It was apparent he had been drinking. We traced back his wherabouts to Lucky Duck Bar and Grill, and the tender said he was a regular. As in, every single day, leaving intoxicated."
I freeze. Why am I here. What does he want.
"I've been asked to make sure you were aware of this fact, and if everything in your home life is okay."
I nod rapidly, self consciously pulling at my sleeves, getting anxious. I don't like this man.
"Colyssa, everything you say is said in confidence. I am not at liberty to say, it's between us."
"E-everything's f-f-fine sir, honest." I tell him, losing my cool.
He nods, accepting, "Would you like me to take you to go and see him?"
Stupid man. "I would love that." He escorts me to office, to get a pass to leave.
Josh spots me on his way to his first hour class. He pauses, if only for a milisecond, but then continues on like he never saw me.
I'm going to the hospital. To see my father. For the first time in years, I'll see him sober.
I'm scared to death.
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys! I hope you like it so far, more to come :D anything you want to see happen? I'll consider any input you have :) k thanks, stay awesome, byeee(:
Confession Number Thirteen: I'm used to being alone.
I didn't know what else to do. So I got up, and got ready like usual. I kept my ears wide open, listening for any signs that he might be at home. Seven o'clock rolled around, and I didn't have time to spare and wait any longer, or I would be late.
At my locker, Josh sidles up, and without looking at me he fiddles with my lock, humming under his breath.
"So my mom was concerned when she found orange paint behind my ears. Must have missed a spot." He laughs, and glances up to see my reaction. I don't give him one. Just silently put books back on the top shelf. He kicks away my backpack, demanding my attention.
"What happened. Did he hurt you again?" He tries to move my sleeves, but I back away from him and retrieve my bag.
"I don't have time for this right now." I tell him.
"Time for what?" He asks.
"You."
He bangs a fist against the locker next to mine, and rests his head against the vents, frustrated. I see him bite his lip, trying to maintain emotional control. Sometimes I wonder if he has anger issues.
"I'm sick of this crap Colyssa! One day, we're best friends, and I see you coming out of that, that, SHELL you've made for yourself. The next day it's like nothing happened at all and you've friggin superglued that shell closed! I CAN'T. WIN."
I'm frightened by his sudden outburst, but unwavering.
"What do you want from me Josh? If you plan on somehow changing me, that's not going to happpen. I have a lot of things to do, and I can't have any distractions right now."
"You're always saying that! I don't need this! I don't NEED to be friends with you, in fact, the guys make fun of me for even trying! So why do I, huh? No, don't answer that. I'm sick of this Hot and Cold attitued thing. Forget it, I'm out."
with that, he turns his back on me and walks away. I don't have time to feel the sting of his words. For as soon as he walks away, another hand is on my shoulder. It's Mr.Hansen, the school guidance counselor.
"Excuse me, Colyssa, can we talk in my office for a bit?"
***
I've never been in here before. The walls are plain, but plastered with motivating posters, and it's furnished with tons of armchairs . He sits at his desk and puts on a pair of glasses, the kind people use to magnify words or pictures once their eyes get bad.
"We recieved a call from the Jackson Hospital this morning, you must have just missed it when you left this morning."
I feel my palms geting sweaty. He pauses. Why is he pausing. Just tell me already, Mr.H, spit it out.
"Your father got into a car accident last night."
I nod along, waiting for the punch line.
"He's in intensive care. At this point, they're fairly certain he'll make a full recovery."
I let out a full breath of air, relaxing, and slumping back in the chair.
"That's not all that I wanted to talk about." He adds, making his voice serious, yet light. A voice I'm sure he's practiced.
"It was apparent he had been drinking. We traced back his wherabouts to Lucky Duck Bar and Grill, and the tender said he was a regular. As in, every single day, leaving intoxicated."
I freeze. Why am I here. What does he want.
"I've been asked to make sure you were aware of this fact, and if everything in your home life is okay."
I nod rapidly, self consciously pulling at my sleeves, getting anxious. I don't like this man.
"Colyssa, everything you say is said in confidence. I am not at liberty to say, it's between us."
"E-everything's f-f-fine sir, honest." I tell him, losing my cool.
He nods, accepting, "Would you like me to take you to go and see him?"
Stupid man. "I would love that." He escorts me to office, to get a pass to leave.
Josh spots me on his way to his first hour class. He pauses, if only for a milisecond, but then continues on like he never saw me.
I'm going to the hospital. To see my father. For the first time in years, I'll see him sober.
I'm scared to death.
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys! I hope you like it so far, more to come :D anything you want to see happen? I'll consider any input you have :) k thanks, stay awesome, byeee(:
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Twelve: I am confident.
He wipes some paint from my cheek, and answers, "I'm sorry. I got distracted."
"From paint on my face?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.
He laughs, "Well, sort of. You're just beautiful, that's all. It's mesmerizing."
I blush at the floor, studying my feet. He does that thing again, where he uses his fingertips to lift my chin. Then he notices my tears.
"Hey, Colyssa. I mean it. What's wrong?"
I wipe at my face. "I'm sorry, I just. No one's ever told me that before."
He looks apalled. "Ever? Are you serious?"
I shake my head. "Not once."
"Well that's going to change."
I try changing the subject, "Do you need to take a shower?"
He smiles, "I'd love that, thanks."
I show him the shower in my dad's bedroom, and go to take one in my own, washing out all of the paint. I walk out in fresh clothes before realizing I don't have any makeup on now.
He's sitting on my bed, flipping through one of my books. He does a double take.
"Woah, Colyssa. You look so...different."
He notices my look of horror, and I try to hide my face from him. He races up though, and assures me, "I like it." with a smile.
"I think I need to take you home now."
He looks crestfallen, but agrees.
***
Later that night, sitting in my closet, I check my watch.
All of the chores are done, the mess cleaned up downstairs, and my homework is finished. I'm anxious.
2 o'clock comes and goes. Then 3. Then 4.
Before long, my alarm clock goes off in the other room to get up for school.
He never came home.
Authors Note: sorry it's so short! I have a lot of ideas coming up. I'm sorry I don't have time to do notif's on this one :( I promise, next time, but I got places to go! Please, PLEASE, if you have any input or suggestions, let me know :) Should I even continue? no one seems super interested anymore...but thanks for reading!
Confession Number Twelve: I am confident.
He wipes some paint from my cheek, and answers, "I'm sorry. I got distracted."
"From paint on my face?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.
He laughs, "Well, sort of. You're just beautiful, that's all. It's mesmerizing."
I blush at the floor, studying my feet. He does that thing again, where he uses his fingertips to lift my chin. Then he notices my tears.
"Hey, Colyssa. I mean it. What's wrong?"
I wipe at my face. "I'm sorry, I just. No one's ever told me that before."
He looks apalled. "Ever? Are you serious?"
I shake my head. "Not once."
"Well that's going to change."
I try changing the subject, "Do you need to take a shower?"
He smiles, "I'd love that, thanks."
I show him the shower in my dad's bedroom, and go to take one in my own, washing out all of the paint. I walk out in fresh clothes before realizing I don't have any makeup on now.
He's sitting on my bed, flipping through one of my books. He does a double take.
"Woah, Colyssa. You look so...different."
He notices my look of horror, and I try to hide my face from him. He races up though, and assures me, "I like it." with a smile.
"I think I need to take you home now."
He looks crestfallen, but agrees.
***
Later that night, sitting in my closet, I check my watch.
All of the chores are done, the mess cleaned up downstairs, and my homework is finished. I'm anxious.
2 o'clock comes and goes. Then 3. Then 4.
Before long, my alarm clock goes off in the other room to get up for school.
He never came home.
Authors Note: sorry it's so short! I have a lot of ideas coming up. I'm sorry I don't have time to do notif's on this one :( I promise, next time, but I got places to go! Please, PLEASE, if you have any input or suggestions, let me know :) Should I even continue? no one seems super interested anymore...but thanks for reading!
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Ten: I don't believe in love.
He wanted to see the whole house. I showed him the spotless kitchen, the little nook off of the den with shelves of books that no one had ever opened besides me, the bathroom, and my own bedroom, which he was fascinated by. Going wide-eyed at the recently shampooed and vacuumed carpet, he immediatly laid down and did carpet angels, smiling like a little kid on Christmas morning.
"It's just so...clean!"
He ran around, picking up this and that, marveling at the alphabetizing of my bookshelves and the color spectrum that was my closet, the prim corners of my bedspread, and the clearly labeled drawers of my desk. My very place of living was a wonder in his eyes.
He stopped at a picture of my parent's wedding, tacked neatly to a board above my desk.
"Do you think you'll ever get married?" he asks, in all seriousness.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I see what supposed "love" can do to a person. It won't happen to me."
"Since when is love considered a bad thing?" He gets sidetracked and begins flicking my many hanging academic acheivement medals, wathcing the gold and bronze spin like toy tops.
I grab his hand to make him stop. Focus.
"My own father gets intoxicated almost every night, trying to forget about my mother. But then he comes home, and he's sees me, thinking I'm her. The alcohol can't even wash away the pain he has. I don't ever want to be that vulnerable."
He pauses, unsure of what to respond.
"Is that why he...hits you?"
I freeze. "It's not his fault. He doesn't know what he's doing."
"If he thinks you're your mom, why would he hit you?"
"He's confused by the alcohol, bringing out the anger he feels that she left him. Left him with me."
"I don't understabd why having a kid like you is so terrible."
"Because I'm not like other kids. I'm a freak. Different. Inexplainable. And besides, he never wanted kids. And now he's stuck with me."
Josh stands up, quick as lightning, and suprises me so much I back into the wall. He steps closer. "You are NOT a freak! Don't EVER say that again!" He seems so angry, so, so angry at me for saying it. I cringe and shrink down the wall, coveringmy face with my hands. He realizes his mistake.
"Oh my god. Oh my god Colyssa, I am so sorry." He kneels down by me, at eye level, and uses his fingertips to lift my chin to face him just like earlier today.
"I just...You're not a freak, okay? You're different, but that's not a bad thing. The world could use some different people."
I nod, calming down inside, but my stomach flutters a little at being touched by him again.
I try to change the subject.
"Are you thirsty? We have some drinks downstairs."
He smirks, "Whatever you have that's not in a pouch."
Down in the kitchen, he snoops around, and finds a door I didn't show him.
"What's in here?" He asks, trying the knob. It's locked.
I hand him a glass of V8 juice. "It's my moms studio. It's been locked ever since that day."
"Can we go inside?" He pleads, like a little kid in a candy store. I grab the keys from the stand by the door, and unlock it for him.
"Go right ahead, I'll stay out here."
He looks at me, and tilts his head. Gazing intently at me with those blue eyes.
"I"m going to teach you how to be a teenager. Starting with facing your fears."
and with that, he runs over, tickles me until I collapse, and then gathers me up in his arms, and races into her studio, with me laughing and breathless, trying to break free.
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? tell me what you think! I have no idea what's going on in your heads! haha :| hopefully I can get awareness of this story up :\
Confession Number Ten: I don't believe in love.
He wanted to see the whole house. I showed him the spotless kitchen, the little nook off of the den with shelves of books that no one had ever opened besides me, the bathroom, and my own bedroom, which he was fascinated by. Going wide-eyed at the recently shampooed and vacuumed carpet, he immediatly laid down and did carpet angels, smiling like a little kid on Christmas morning.
"It's just so...clean!"
He ran around, picking up this and that, marveling at the alphabetizing of my bookshelves and the color spectrum that was my closet, the prim corners of my bedspread, and the clearly labeled drawers of my desk. My very place of living was a wonder in his eyes.
He stopped at a picture of my parent's wedding, tacked neatly to a board above my desk.
"Do you think you'll ever get married?" he asks, in all seriousness.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I see what supposed "love" can do to a person. It won't happen to me."
"Since when is love considered a bad thing?" He gets sidetracked and begins flicking my many hanging academic acheivement medals, wathcing the gold and bronze spin like toy tops.
I grab his hand to make him stop. Focus.
"My own father gets intoxicated almost every night, trying to forget about my mother. But then he comes home, and he's sees me, thinking I'm her. The alcohol can't even wash away the pain he has. I don't ever want to be that vulnerable."
He pauses, unsure of what to respond.
"Is that why he...hits you?"
I freeze. "It's not his fault. He doesn't know what he's doing."
"If he thinks you're your mom, why would he hit you?"
"He's confused by the alcohol, bringing out the anger he feels that she left him. Left him with me."
"I don't understabd why having a kid like you is so terrible."
"Because I'm not like other kids. I'm a freak. Different. Inexplainable. And besides, he never wanted kids. And now he's stuck with me."
Josh stands up, quick as lightning, and suprises me so much I back into the wall. He steps closer. "You are NOT a freak! Don't EVER say that again!" He seems so angry, so, so angry at me for saying it. I cringe and shrink down the wall, coveringmy face with my hands. He realizes his mistake.
"Oh my god. Oh my god Colyssa, I am so sorry." He kneels down by me, at eye level, and uses his fingertips to lift my chin to face him just like earlier today.
"I just...You're not a freak, okay? You're different, but that's not a bad thing. The world could use some different people."
I nod, calming down inside, but my stomach flutters a little at being touched by him again.
I try to change the subject.
"Are you thirsty? We have some drinks downstairs."
He smirks, "Whatever you have that's not in a pouch."
Down in the kitchen, he snoops around, and finds a door I didn't show him.
"What's in here?" He asks, trying the knob. It's locked.
I hand him a glass of V8 juice. "It's my moms studio. It's been locked ever since that day."
"Can we go inside?" He pleads, like a little kid in a candy store. I grab the keys from the stand by the door, and unlock it for him.
"Go right ahead, I'll stay out here."
He looks at me, and tilts his head. Gazing intently at me with those blue eyes.
"I"m going to teach you how to be a teenager. Starting with facing your fears."
and with that, he runs over, tickles me until I collapse, and then gathers me up in his arms, and races into her studio, with me laughing and breathless, trying to break free.
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? tell me what you think! I have no idea what's going on in your heads! haha :| hopefully I can get awareness of this story up :\
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Nine: My mother is my role model.
"She...what?" He asks, looking confused, eyes wide.
"She stabbed herself in the abdomin with my father's hunting knife."
He goes pale and stumbes a bit, but I make no move to steady him, turning into a heartless cold stone figure.
"Why?" He finally asks.
I take a deep breath, "She was too stressed out to take care of a ten year old with mild Asperger's syndrom, while her husband worked full time."
It takes him a while to peice everything together, like my life is a puzzle he needs to solve, making all the right connections. The bell rings for class, and I head inside, pulling down my sleeves, leaving him all by his lonesome. He's holding my deepest secret in his arms like a child holds a phone book. He has it. Now what's he going to do with it?
***
He gets into my car before I have the chance to turn on my truck and drive away. Without looking at me, he stares out at the windshield and says, "I know what it is. It's on the autism spectrum. The same thing, but different."
I start the car, "Very different."
He fiddles with the seat belt again, "I just don't understand why she would leave you."
"She was...a free spirit. An Artist. She lived in the moment, got a thrill out of rash decisions, and did all she could to acheive what she liked to call 'controlled chaos'. When I was disganosed at age seven, it became pretty clear I couldn't live the way she wanted to. I needed order, I needed constant. We couldn't live with eachother, it was tearing us apart. For those three years it became a contest of who could hold out longer. And now my dad...he couldn't. Can't. Live without her."
He seems dumbstruck, everything falling into place, finally making sense.
"Is that who gave you the bruises? Your own father?"
I pull into my own driveway, and turn to him. "Josh, would you like to come inside?"
"I would."
He stares at the whiteness of the carpet, the dust free shelves, the spotless counters.
He looks at our family picture nailed to the wall in the living room.
"Is that...is that her?" He asks, pointing to my mother in the picture, smiling and hugging me from behind.
"Yes." I answer. I have avoided this picture for seven years now. Avoided the smile I stole from her face.
He stares at it for a long time.
"You look...exactly like her."
I look down at my feet. "My father thinks so too."
"Yea I definitely see the resemblence. What was her name?"
"Corrina. Corrina VanPulson."
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? tell me what you think! I have no idea what's going on in your heads! haha :| hopefully I can get awareness of this story up :\
Confession Number Nine: My mother is my role model.
"She...what?" He asks, looking confused, eyes wide.
"She stabbed herself in the abdomin with my father's hunting knife."
He goes pale and stumbes a bit, but I make no move to steady him, turning into a heartless cold stone figure.
"Why?" He finally asks.
I take a deep breath, "She was too stressed out to take care of a ten year old with mild Asperger's syndrom, while her husband worked full time."
It takes him a while to peice everything together, like my life is a puzzle he needs to solve, making all the right connections. The bell rings for class, and I head inside, pulling down my sleeves, leaving him all by his lonesome. He's holding my deepest secret in his arms like a child holds a phone book. He has it. Now what's he going to do with it?
***
He gets into my car before I have the chance to turn on my truck and drive away. Without looking at me, he stares out at the windshield and says, "I know what it is. It's on the autism spectrum. The same thing, but different."
I start the car, "Very different."
He fiddles with the seat belt again, "I just don't understand why she would leave you."
"She was...a free spirit. An Artist. She lived in the moment, got a thrill out of rash decisions, and did all she could to acheive what she liked to call 'controlled chaos'. When I was disganosed at age seven, it became pretty clear I couldn't live the way she wanted to. I needed order, I needed constant. We couldn't live with eachother, it was tearing us apart. For those three years it became a contest of who could hold out longer. And now my dad...he couldn't. Can't. Live without her."
He seems dumbstruck, everything falling into place, finally making sense.
"Is that who gave you the bruises? Your own father?"
I pull into my own driveway, and turn to him. "Josh, would you like to come inside?"
"I would."
He stares at the whiteness of the carpet, the dust free shelves, the spotless counters.
He looks at our family picture nailed to the wall in the living room.
"Is that...is that her?" He asks, pointing to my mother in the picture, smiling and hugging me from behind.
"Yes." I answer. I have avoided this picture for seven years now. Avoided the smile I stole from her face.
He stares at it for a long time.
"You look...exactly like her."
I look down at my feet. "My father thinks so too."
"Yea I definitely see the resemblence. What was her name?"
"Corrina. Corrina VanPulson."
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? tell me what you think! I have no idea what's going on in your heads! haha :| hopefully I can get awareness of this story up :\
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Eight: I don't lie.
Josh looks hurt. He recoils at my words like a vampire locked out in the sun.
"What are you talking about?"
I turn away from him, folding my arms, avoiding his sad guilt-tripping eyes.
"I can't put up with any distractions right now." I tell him.
"Distractions from what? School? Are you kidding me? You're probably already on Harvard's friggin recruitment list! You're a month ahead everyone as we speak!"
"I have a shedule, a routine. And you're constantly messing that up! I just can't...it can't happen anymore." I sigh, wiping at my face, still not facing him.
He's getting angry again, and fast.
"I messed up your routine? How?! What would you normally be doing at 2 am for god's sake!"
Stopping my father from killing me.
"Nothing, okay? I just don't need this right now!"
He comes up behind me, and gently places his hands on my upper arms. He leans close and whispers in my ear, "You're hiding something from me."
His cool breath in my ear makes me shiver, and his proximity makes me nervous in a way I've never felt before. I feel his heat radiating at my back.
Forcing myself to step forward and ignore him, I answer "I have nothing to hide."
He laughs, "God Colyssa, you're such a liar! You're full to the brim with secrets."
He steps closer again and adds,
"So full, you're spilling over. Tell me, please, who hurt you?"
Using my shoulders, he turns me towards him, face to face. I bite my lip and look at my feet.
He tilts my face up. "Tell me."
My heart beats faster, and I try to look away again.
He sighs in frustration.
"I'm just trying to help you! Best friends for life, remember?"
"Please, just leave me alone." I plead.
"Not until you tell me who did this to you!" Josh demands.
"I did! I told you that!"
"But that just doesn't make sense! How could you do this to yourself? I may not be Yale material, but I'm not stupid."
I don't want to face him. I don't want to see those blue eyes staring so intensely I might give in. I don't want him to touch me. A sensation so alien...it scares me.
"Will you at least answer me one thing?"
I look up from under my lashes.
"Why don't you like being touched? Not just by me, but anyone."
My breathing is uneven and shaky when I whisper,
"Because the last person to touch me as gently as you have was my mother."
His anger evaporates once again, like invisible mist inking out of his pores.
"Was? What happened to her?" he asks. He reaches out for me, and then changes his mind, coming to his senses.
"She took her own life, and it was all my fault."
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? tell me what you think! I have no idea what's going on in your heads! haha :| hopefully I can get awareness of this story up :\
Confession Number Eight: I don't lie.
Josh looks hurt. He recoils at my words like a vampire locked out in the sun.
"What are you talking about?"
I turn away from him, folding my arms, avoiding his sad guilt-tripping eyes.
"I can't put up with any distractions right now." I tell him.
"Distractions from what? School? Are you kidding me? You're probably already on Harvard's friggin recruitment list! You're a month ahead everyone as we speak!"
"I have a shedule, a routine. And you're constantly messing that up! I just can't...it can't happen anymore." I sigh, wiping at my face, still not facing him.
He's getting angry again, and fast.
"I messed up your routine? How?! What would you normally be doing at 2 am for god's sake!"
Stopping my father from killing me.
"Nothing, okay? I just don't need this right now!"
He comes up behind me, and gently places his hands on my upper arms. He leans close and whispers in my ear, "You're hiding something from me."
His cool breath in my ear makes me shiver, and his proximity makes me nervous in a way I've never felt before. I feel his heat radiating at my back.
Forcing myself to step forward and ignore him, I answer "I have nothing to hide."
He laughs, "God Colyssa, you're such a liar! You're full to the brim with secrets."
He steps closer again and adds,
"So full, you're spilling over. Tell me, please, who hurt you?"
Using my shoulders, he turns me towards him, face to face. I bite my lip and look at my feet.
He tilts my face up. "Tell me."
My heart beats faster, and I try to look away again.
He sighs in frustration.
"I'm just trying to help you! Best friends for life, remember?"
"Please, just leave me alone." I plead.
"Not until you tell me who did this to you!" Josh demands.
"I did! I told you that!"
"But that just doesn't make sense! How could you do this to yourself? I may not be Yale material, but I'm not stupid."
I don't want to face him. I don't want to see those blue eyes staring so intensely I might give in. I don't want him to touch me. A sensation so alien...it scares me.
"Will you at least answer me one thing?"
I look up from under my lashes.
"Why don't you like being touched? Not just by me, but anyone."
My breathing is uneven and shaky when I whisper,
"Because the last person to touch me as gently as you have was my mother."
His anger evaporates once again, like invisible mist inking out of his pores.
"Was? What happened to her?" he asks. He reaches out for me, and then changes his mind, coming to his senses.
"She took her own life, and it was all my fault."
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? tell me what you think! I have no idea what's going on in your heads! haha :| hopefully I can get awareness of this story up :\
Confessions
of a Teenage
Perfectionist
Confession Number Seven: the perfect mask is hard to wear.
Aching with severe pain, I walk clumsily to my locker, crumbling slowly under the pressure of my bag.
My arms, bruises hidden carefully underneath a long sleeved shirt, burn from the pressure applied by the weight, and my face, covered with an extra layer of makeup, feels puffy and swollen under the disguise. My legs are like spaghetti strands, ready to snap.
I feel the relief as the bag slide off of my shoulder, and I pack my books back into my locker.
I can tell when he suddenly comes up behind me.
"Hey, Colyssa, I'm so so sorry I fell asleep last night. My mom freaked at me." He sounds distressed. Good, he deserves to be.
I ignore him.
"Will you please just say something? I'm sorry if I got you in trouble for curfew or whatever."
frustrated, I get up and try to walk away. He grabs my wrist, I try not to scream.
"I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"You can't." I spit at him, full of venom, trying to escape again. He pulls me closer, and the pain in my bruised wrist causes me to yelp.
A look of confusion comes over his face, but he doesn't let go. He gently slides up the sleeve, and catches a glimpse of the crisscrossed blue black and purple.
"Colyssa...what the hell happened to you?!" he slide it up further, confriming that yes, they do go all the way up to my shoulder. I jerk my arm away, causing more pain, and back away a few steps.
"DAMNIT COLYSSA TELL ME!" he advances, looking angry yet concerned.
I don't want to be shouted at again. I certainly never want to be touched. I turn away from him, and run down the hall out the door, and into the parking lot. He easily keeps up, coming out behind me.
"GO AWAY!" I order him, falling to my knees, trying to stop the inevitable tears, "I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"
He comes up slowly, tentatively, and leans down to look at me. He lifts my head up, and uses his thumbs to wipe away the hurt. But with it comes the makeup, and now he's even more distraught, noticing my injuires are far worse than expected.
"Who did this to you?" He asks, wiping oh so gently, looking into my eyes.
The anger has evaporated, leaving deep concern in its wake.
"It's..it's my fault." I tell him, flustered by his touch.
"You did this to yourself?"
"I...I lost....control. Of everything." I stammer.
"Remember when I told you that you just didn't know how to say anything? Well I think it's time for you to be heard."
I take a deep breath, to regulate my breathing and clarify my speech.
"You're messing up everything Josh! It was all perfect before you showed up! Stay out of my life!"
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? sorry I'm doing a lousy job on the notifications :| my computer doesn't like me, but I promise I'll get them this time. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Enjoy!
Confession Number Seven: the perfect mask is hard to wear.
Aching with severe pain, I walk clumsily to my locker, crumbling slowly under the pressure of my bag.
My arms, bruises hidden carefully underneath a long sleeved shirt, burn from the pressure applied by the weight, and my face, covered with an extra layer of makeup, feels puffy and swollen under the disguise. My legs are like spaghetti strands, ready to snap.
I feel the relief as the bag slide off of my shoulder, and I pack my books back into my locker.
I can tell when he suddenly comes up behind me.
"Hey, Colyssa, I'm so so sorry I fell asleep last night. My mom freaked at me." He sounds distressed. Good, he deserves to be.
I ignore him.
"Will you please just say something? I'm sorry if I got you in trouble for curfew or whatever."
frustrated, I get up and try to walk away. He grabs my wrist, I try not to scream.
"I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"You can't." I spit at him, full of venom, trying to escape again. He pulls me closer, and the pain in my bruised wrist causes me to yelp.
A look of confusion comes over his face, but he doesn't let go. He gently slides up the sleeve, and catches a glimpse of the crisscrossed blue black and purple.
"Colyssa...what the hell happened to you?!" he slide it up further, confriming that yes, they do go all the way up to my shoulder. I jerk my arm away, causing more pain, and back away a few steps.
"DAMNIT COLYSSA TELL ME!" he advances, looking angry yet concerned.
I don't want to be shouted at again. I certainly never want to be touched. I turn away from him, and run down the hall out the door, and into the parking lot. He easily keeps up, coming out behind me.
"GO AWAY!" I order him, falling to my knees, trying to stop the inevitable tears, "I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"
He comes up slowly, tentatively, and leans down to look at me. He lifts my head up, and uses his thumbs to wipe away the hurt. But with it comes the makeup, and now he's even more distraught, noticing my injuires are far worse than expected.
"Who did this to you?" He asks, wiping oh so gently, looking into my eyes.
The anger has evaporated, leaving deep concern in its wake.
"It's..it's my fault." I tell him, flustered by his touch.
"You did this to yourself?"
"I...I lost....control. Of everything." I stammer.
"Remember when I told you that you just didn't know how to say anything? Well I think it's time for you to be heard."
I take a deep breath, to regulate my breathing and clarify my speech.
"You're messing up everything Josh! It was all perfect before you showed up! Stay out of my life!"
Authors Note: thanks for reading guys!(: feedback? sorry I'm doing a lousy job on the notifications :| my computer doesn't like me, but I promise I'll get them this time. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Enjoy!