Fairy Tale Gone Wrong by Sabrina Smith (open ebook txt) 📕

my cousins were bad talking me. Wesley would text my cousin K, and he told her how he loves me, how much he misses me. And she told her parents. Who then told my mom. And they were talking about how I collect boys, and toy with them, and how I “know what I’m doing”. That made me so angry. My mom said to tell Wesley, so then he would know what our family does, how our family works. He got really mad, apparently, Cee told me. That inspired this poem:
It’s so hard to imagine you ever getting mad,
You sit there so peaceful, so tranquil, and silent.
Your face perfection, no emotion is shown,
Like a manikin, immobile, not prone to be violent.
Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of something,
But soon as I see it, in a flash, it’s gone, vanished from sight.
You’re face confuses me, a mixture of serious and happy
So delicate, and fragile, so puzzling…maybe it was just the light.
But, looking back, carefully, I see you staring straight at me,
I quick look away, not wanting to seem rude or intrusive like I don't belong,
Looking back once more, my eyes meet yours, so sad…so lonely…so alone,
The emotions, so clear, staring into your eyes, no breath in my lungs, how could I be so wrong?
Now, today was the same as any other Thursday. I missed math (this is becoming a bad habit) and I talked on the forums. I went to Earth Science, graded people’s scale maps, and then lazed around all day, doing basically nothing. Abigail (age 2 and a half) was moping around because we are transitioning her from bottles to sippy cups. Liberty was a monster child asking for attention. She’s the cutest chubbiest baby in the world, but she can get veeerry angry when she doesn’t get what she wants.
After dinner (yes, I am skipping through my very boring day to the fun part), I got on the forum and CEE WAS ON! YAY! Ish….she was preoccupied with a him of her own. Yes. I am doing the whole “him” thing again. No, I am not going to reveal this one. Anyway, it was kind of boring, until I remembered, I’m allowed on Facebook again!
So, I log on. He, I mean, Wesley, is not on. But Ben and Cee are! So, I talk to them for a couple minutes, and then Cee says that Wesley just said something, and I said “what, where?!?!?!” And she did a confused face (as we are chatting, it’s harder to say what emotions the one on the other line is feeling), and said he was online. I looked at my online thingy-ma-bobber and saw, to my dismay, that he was not shown as online to me. So…was he purposefully doing it? Or no? I will never know. Well, I might know sometime, but I don’t know right now.
Anyway, I kept talking to Ben, and he asks me this, “Hey, do you still have a crush on Wesley?”
Wait. What? Oh yeah…that’s right. Everyone knows. According to my mom, we act like a couple online. We would talk all the time, day and night, night and day…so I guess we kind of did.
But, when I told Ben the whole story, it felt so…good. He had some good advice. It’s amazing how different people seem when you talk to them through messages on a computer rather than over the phone or in person.
Then, Wesley said “dun dun!” in the group chat. So, I was kind of cold and unresponsive. Pay back for ignoring me when I said “WESLEY!” in his chat and it suddenly went “offline”. Then, I couldn’t resist, I started talking. When Ben and Cee got offline, Wesley and I started talking on our own chat. I got frustrated, because he was not talking very much, nor was he contributing at all. I finally told him that I was tired of it. In a nicer way…okay, I said he wasn’t talking or contributing very much. So sue me.
I said how I wished we could talk like we did before. Before he said he loved me. Before I said no. Before.
Those thoughts inspired this poem:
Motions, visions, sounds, smells,
All come clashing down in an overwhelming title wave,
Everything seems blurred, unreal, almost like a dream,
Emotions flowing, struggle to stay in control, unable to save.
Memories flash across my mind, your face, your voice, you,
The things you say, the way you say it, how you were with me,
Inseparable, or so it seems, you and me, never again,
We’d talk, or stay silent; everything appears right, in perfect harmony.

We talked until very late into the night, or rather, early into the morning. It was 2:02 am when we finally stopped talking. We said our rhyme, the one where you say good night, sleep tight, but we add different creative lines all the time. This time I said “Good night, sleep tight, don’t get into some epic fight, without back up.” I signed off with this “<3 Juliet :) Goooood niiiight”.
He didn’t respond with his usual sign off. In fact, he didn’t respond at all. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it?
You know what I thought the moment I noticed he wasn’t answering? I wanted to say how much I love him. I wanted to say I’m sorry for saying no. I wanted to say this:

I love you.
Can’t you tell?
I love you.
I certainly fell.
I love you.
Yet I can’t see you.
I love you.
I can’t be with you.
I love you.
Life sucks.
I love you.
Tough luck.
I love you.
This is so unfair.
I love you.
But no one cares.
I wish I had. I wish I had the guts to tell him.
Yours,
Juliet

Friday, February 18, 2011
Dear Diary,
Its 10:15 a.m. I have a mentor meeting in a little over half an hour. Am I prepared? Nope. To be honest, I find this project kind of weird. I mean, outlining your one and three year plan is great and all, but having to present them to be graded? That’s a little odd. But, it’s what I have to do, so I better hop to it.
*11:20 a.m.*
GUESS WHO JUST ROCKED THEIR LEADERSHIP PRESENTATION?!?!
Me, that’s who! Yeah! Am I awesome or am I awesome?
Overboard?
Nope. Maybe. Kind of. Yes…but that’s not the point. The point is I took something and made it into nothing. Wait… *scratches head* that doesn’t look right.
Anyway…I just took a shower. Finally. My hair smells really good. But my face…I really need to start using that acne stuff my mom got me, because my face is deciding to go “pop pop pop, let’s have some zits, shall we?” because of the stress. Yes. Stress. And lots of it. I am so behind on school. But, instead of dumping all my problems on here, I think I will write down the pros, so I can remember them.
Shakespeare is today! I am so happy. I get to see Bex. And, I get to go home with her, because we have baptisms afterwards. I have been grounded for the last TWO MONTHS. Yeah, I know, you want to know what I did, right? Sorry, that is not in the “pros” category. Back to pros. Today, in Shakespeare, we’re reading through the abridged script of Twelfth Night, which we will be performing in April. I am way nervous. The read through could be disastrous.
I just got the wits scared out of me. I walked into my parents DARK room, glanced at the bed, turned around to look at myself in the mirror, and my brother was standing there, looking at me with his hand to his lips, signaling me to “shh!”. Of course, it scared me half to death, making me half yelp, half scream. Not what my brother was asking me to do, obviously. Katie came running in, and he hid behind the door. She asked why I screamed, and I spat out some story about how I turned to the mirror, and then thought I saw someone behind me. It seemed legitimate enough, considering there was a pile of pillows under the blankets in the bed.
I’m off to class now, I’ll write more later.
*Later*
The read through went really well. We had characterization flying all over the place. Some people were great readers, with eloquent voices and hand gestures, emotions showing on their faces with a vigor I had never seen exhibited by any of them before, but others read their lines as if they didn’t care, all they wanted was the brownies anyway. I suppose they thought it was a dumb exercise…
It took all my will power not to correct anyone with their pronunciation of unfamiliar Shakespearean words. Being the teacher’s sister, and having taken the class the previous year, I knew all those hard to pronounce words. The only person I didn’t spare from this was Bex. One of my best friends, she knows how I am, so every time she would stop at a word, stumbling over what she thought it might be, I’d “come to the rescue” and we’d move forward, quickly, the way I like it. Yes, I am a grammar/spelling Nazi. Big time.
During the read through I couldn’t stop laughing. It was so weird. Everything seemed funny. It was probably the sugar. I had three cups of soda, and two brownies. And a cookie. It was probably lack of sleep, too. That combination (sugar and lack of sleep) does something to my mind.
Anyway, I asked Bex if I could come with her, so she could give me a ride to the church. When we had permission, I was scrambling around, trying to find all my stuff, which I had failed to collect before class. Bex laughed at me as I ran past her with one three inch high heel on, yelling at the kids to help me find the other one. When I finally found it, we had to rush out the door and pile into the car. I was still hyper, and was giggling almost the whole ride to the Jones’ house, where Bex and I were dropped off to await the arrival of Sister Jones and her daughter, Kali, who we would be snatching a ride to the church with.
I told her the whole thing about Wesley. How I really don’t want to be just friends. And then we had a very weird conversation. She wanted me to “listen to her toe”. I told her flat out that I wasn’t going to listen to her toe. Nuh-uh, not happening.
Sure enough, 30 seconds later I was on the ground, listening to her toe. Yeah, I am weird like that.
She was sitting on the couch when I was telling her a story, her feet on my knee caps, pretty much holding me up. Suddenly, I’m falling (insert yelp/scream here). Bex decided to take her feet off my knees, to see what would happen. Veeery nice.
We changed into our Sunday clothes a couple minutes before Kali arrived. When they did arrive, Kali ran to change, and then, once again, we piled into a car. This is where it gets kind of boring. Well, it was probably boring before this, but it is probably going to get really boring now.
While we were driving, Sister Jones and her sister told stories about their Grandma. It was hilarious! One was about how she was cooking spaghetti noodles (she wasn’t a cooking mom, she cooked the simplest things she could, they said) and