"He's my fire and I'm his gasoline. We're just meant to be together."
-
Highest rankings:
#1 bmww
#2 mature
#3 teenlove
#4 drama
#4 teen
#8 teenromance
#19 romance
Originally completed 1.31.21.
CURRENTLY BEING RE-WRITTEN
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Angel - The Weeknd Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey Love Will Save The World - Jessie J -
10 years later October 2030
Tre
Love used to not be a familiar feeling to me. I had gone so long without it, I forgot what the definition was. I used to spend my childhood reading books. Everyday I'd come home from school and read a page in the dictionary, absorbing the words and definitions into my young mind. After I finished reading, my mother would ask me what my favorite word of the day was. I'd tell her everything: the word, part of speech, definition, synonyms, and antonyms. I'd spell it out and then use it correctly in a sentence.
This routine was clockwork for us. Everyday, never missing a day. It was one of my favorite things to do with my mother. We bonded over words. This was my safe space, it was where I felt most connected to her. It's the reason why I eventually started writing on my own.
After she died, I stopped reading. I couldn't look at a dictionary without wanting to rip it to shreds or burn every single page. I could barley pick up a novel to read for school because I'd see them all over the pages in tiny black ink. They were everywhere, I couldn't escape them. Every time I looked at a book, I was reminded of her. She had been my connection to words, and for so long I was voided of that feeling.
I was in high school when I forced myself to finally read a novel again. I just wanted to feel that connection again, even if it pained me.
Into the Wild. I read it in two days. I identified with Christopher McCandless and his need to be self-reliant. He wanted to depend on himself and be isolated in the wilderness, but he made mistakes that cost him his life. Because of his resentment and anger towards his family life, he became reckless and endangered himself. He viewed the world as corrupt and searched for those who shared his perspective. Christopher died alone in the wilderness, with his books and journals being the only things to tell his journey to self-destruction.
This was the start of my fascination again for reading and where I began to write my own stories. My school notebooks would be filled with my writings and scribbles. I'd get in trouble by my teachers for not paying attention in class, but I didn't give a shit. I just wanted to feel something else besides pain and anger. Writing and reading was my escape.
Every time I read, it's like I can feel my mother sitting next to me, waiting for me to tell her my favorite word of the day. And when I write, I can feel myself bleeding out all over the notebook paper. I stain the paper red as I bare my soul of the atrocities I have endured.
Words became the connection to feel my mom again. It's how she'll always be with me.
I didn't think I would ever meet anyone else who connected to words like the way my mother and I did.
Evangeline was a sweet surprise.
I knew right away that she was special. Seeing her nose always buried in a book, I knew that she appreciated words as much as I did. She knew how important they were and how much they could connect souls together. She took them seriously and understood the power they hold. She loved words and as she read them in her books, I fell in love with her.
