Description: Sam's not at all who people think he is. He might be quiet, he might be shy, but he also was diagnosed with cancer. When Briar moves to town, she catches Sam's eye. What will happen once the two get closer? Will Briar light a spark in Sam's heart?

-

Distant Memory

Dedicated to my cousin, Blake, who is currently fighting a horrific battle of Lymphoma.



You're probably thinking this is just some clichè love story, one about a girl having a crush on her best friend's brother, or how two people fall madly in love, but it's anything but. This is my story, with a twist unlike any other.

~

It all started in our Junior year of high school. You were new to Wakefield High, just moving here the previous year from New York City. On the first day of school, you were so unsure of yourself, not knowing what to do or where to go. I watched as you made your way through the halls, nudging your way through the crowded bodies as students made their way to class. Even though the halls were tremendously over-crowded, you were easy to spot. Your blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes stood out by the school's bland beige walls. You were more radiant, more powerful and glowing, than anything or anyone in the whole school.

Eventually, you made friends in all the clubs you'd joined - culinary club, photography club, and ASL. I don't know what made you stand out from all the other girls at Wakefield High, but whatever it was, it was strong. I felt drawn to you, like we shared a connection deeper than either of us knew. And it was then when I made it my goal to get to know you.

For the first few weeks, I'd tried bulking up the courage to speak to you. I had planned it all out in my mind. I would talk to you at lunch, right as you gathered your food and headed off to the library like you do every day. That was my chance, and I was determined to stick with it.

On that day, I was behind you in the lunch line. Once you got up there, you ordered a chicken empanada, then headed off to the library in the West wing. I quickly grabbed my lunch, a light Cesar salad, and trailed behind you.

You were walking faster than expected, and I was just too weak. I stopped, holding my knees as I gasped for breath. That was my chance to talk to you, to finally hear your beautiful voice, and I blew it.

It wasn't because of what you think. I couldn't keep up because I was lazy or out of shape, because I was neither of those.

I was diagnosed with Leukemia last October, and after tons of treatment, my doctor said I could try going back to school. I decided it would probably be best for me to live a normal life - as much as normal can get for a boy with cancer. Knowing that I was going to die soon - my doctor predicted I would only last for another year, tops - made me want to get to know you more.

After many wasted days of trying - but failing - to get your attention, I gave up. You were too wrapped up in your new life to even acknowledge my existence. Too busy maintaining your new found reputation, too busy dating a new guy every week. I always thought you were a ***** because of it, that you took advantage of different guys and then left them to crumble to pieces, but all of that changed on that faithful day.

I had gotten dropped off late to school because I had to get tests run at the hospital that morning. I tried to get to class on time, running as fast as I could. Only that didn't work because before you knew it, I was out of breath once again.

I headed over to the restroom, hoping a cool splash of water on my face would do the trick, when I heard wailing in the girls bathroom. I looked over my shoulder before entering, just to be safe. As I closed the door, I locked it behind me.

You were leaning against the wall, knees drawn to your chest as you cried. Noticing a presence, you looked up at me, thick black mascara running down your rosy cheeks. Your eyes were puffy, and I could tell you'd been crying for quite a while.

I didn't know what to say or do at that point, so I did what my heart told me I should do. I held you.

I sat next to you and wrapped my arms around you. Your body seemed small and weak, heaving in my arms. You cradled your head into my neck as tears fell from your bright blue eyes. I didn't bother asking what was wrong. Figured I would at a better time.

Just then, you looked up at me, face flushed and blotchy, and grabbed my hand. It seemed to fit perfectly within yours, our frail fingers intertwined in each others.

I tucked a few of your light blonde strands behind your ears as your cries dwindled. Even after you'd finished crying, you sat with me.

"What's your name?" Your eyes shone with curiosity.

"Sam."

"I'm Briar."

Briar. What a beautiful name. I smiled in your tangled hair. I never in a million years thought I would ever talk to you, and even if I had, I never would have expected it to be quite like this.

"You like Ed Sheeran too?" You asked, your eyes widening in delight as you scanned my shirt. I watched a smile creep to your face, lighting up your gorgeous eyes.

"Yeah, he's my favorite singer," I smile shyly. I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks, and I feel embarrassed for acting this way.

Ever since then, we began talking. The more we talked, the more I knew how wrong I was about you. You weren't a ***** at all; all the guys you've dated broke up with you, but blamed it on you every time. That's how you got the title as biggest ***** of the school. I felt bad because you were one of the sweetest people I'd ever met, portraying someone you weren't.

I felt like that Ed Sheeran shirt brought me luck. It was the start to our budding friendship.

After a while, you completely changed. You stopped hanging out with the populars, claiming they were never into you anyway. And I found you enjoyed yourself more. I ended up joining the photography club later that year. Whenever we would go out on weekends, I was always taking pictures of you, catching the memories within a moment of time.

You always loved my pictures. As we sat in my bedroom, I'd let you pick out your favorites for you to keep, writing little notes on the back of each picture. Your absolute favorite one was that one of the two of us.

We were in a huge field, smiling as I held you in my arms wedding style. Your blonde hair flew around in all different directions and your eyes held happiness and joy. That was my favorite one too.

I had always had feelings for you, ever since that day in the bathroom, but I'd never have the chance to show you how I really feel. Even if I did, why would you love me back? I have no hair anymore since going through chemotherapy. My body's frail and weak, barely able to stand up on my own.

I had went to the doctors two days ago for more tests, and the doctor found that the tumor in my brain was growing more and more rapidly by the second. Therefore, I would be dying sooner than expected. I only had four days left. My mother held me in her arms as she cried, her wet tears staning my t-shirt.

That night, I called you and told you the news. You cried into the phone, and I wish I was there to hold you, tell you that everything would be okay, that I would be better soon. It was a lie, but I didn't want to hear you sad. I felt bad for being the cause of it.

The next day, I was rushed to the hospital after my mother found my collapsed in my room.

It was then I knew my life was coming to a close. I grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and wrote you a letter.

~

Dear Briar,

If you're reading this, I'm probably gone by now. I just woke up to the dimly lit lights flooding into my room, tubes and needles inside of me. My heart monitor is beeping weakly next to me, and I feel very frail. Cold, frail, and in tremendous pain. You're alseep on the couch right next to my bed and I watch you, take in your beauty for the last time. Your blonde hair is flowing around your head like a halo, your lips look like delicate red rosebuds. Even though I am weak, getting skinnier by the second, I make my way over to your side, kissing you lightly on the forehead.

I never told you about my cancer, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for causing you the pain of me leaving you. I never meant for it to be this way. All I wanted was to live a normal life, and you showed me that there's happiness even in the smallest of places.

When you miss me, look at the pictures of us, pinned to a board on your bedrooom wall. Remember the memories we've had together. Remember the way you always made me smile, the dozens of laughs you filled me with. You showed me how to enjoy life, Briar. And I could never ask for anything more.

You filled my gloomy days with so much laughter I could barely contain myself. Remember me like that, Briar. Remember me happy.

I never realized it before, but I've fallen in love with you; your glowing smile, eyes the color of the raging ocean. I'd never known what love felt like, but I found it with you.

I love you so much, Briar. Never forget that. And remember I'll always be with you.

Love forever and always,

Sam

~

Briar's POV

I woke up to Sam's heart monitor, constantly beeping.Looking at the monitor, I noticed his breaths were slowing.

I made my way over to his bedside, rubbing my thumb gently across his cheek. His eyes were closed as his chest rose every so often.

"If only you knew how much I love you, Sam," I whispered, a single tear falling from my eyes. I watched him smile as he dwindled away.

"Sam? Sam?" My eyes filled with panic as I shook him lightly. "Sam?" My voice rose as I looked at the monitor, seeing the thin red line.

"Help! Somebody help!" I cried. As soon as those words escaped my lips, his hospital room flooded with doctors and nurses. They surrounded him, pushing me away to see what had happened. But they didn't need to. I already knew.

A doctor with black curly hair came rushing over to me. "I'm sorry, but he's gone.."

He's gone... He's gone... He's gone...

Those words rung in my ears, filling my head. I ran over to your bedside, crying my eyes out and practically screaming your name, hoping you'd come back to me.

I lay my head on your unmoving chest, letting my tears soak into your shirt. I noticed a small white envelope on the table next to you, To my sweet love, Briar, was written on it in your handwriting. I stuck it in the back pocket of my jeans before heading out of the hospital, feeling numb and empty.

I reread the letter over and over, tears staining the white lined paper.

"I love you, Sammy," I said, looking up at the bright blue sky. Even though the world seemed empty without you, I know I had to be strong. For you.

On days where I feel I can't bear your absence, I look at the pictures you took, just like you'd asked. I never knew you would change my life in such a drastic way.

Her small round face stares back at her
Blinking blue eyes in the bright blue light and
She looks around knowing it’s wrong but not daring to ask why
While chubby pale fingers type in the line
“Chat rooms for kids”

She know that she is not yet old enough to be here
She’s only nine but she checks the box to assure the website that, yes,
She is 18 years old or above and, yes,
She understands that there is adult content present inside of this room and, yes,
Child **** is not permitted beyond this door.

But to a nine year old these letters on the page are meaningless.
She doesn’t know what adult content is or even how to
Pronounce the word ******* precisely.
All she knows is that in a matter of clicks
She will mean something.
She will mean something, and she will have worth.
She will be loved and cared for and praised and called a
Good girl, a
Babygirl, a
Kitten, a
Beautiful
Stunning
Delicious looking darling.

She learns new vocabulary terms but instead of words like
C-C-Contrast or
T-T-Typical or
D-D-Difficult
She begins to ingrain in her brain new and exciting words like
C-C-**** or
T-T-**** or
D-D-****.
She even learns how to use these fancy adult-y adultery words in a sentence like
“How big is your C-C-****?” and
“I don’t have T-T-**** yet” and
“I want to touch your D-D-****”.
And with every letter her tiny hands typed out, more and more men
Flocked to her DMs, ready to give her all the love she could ever need if only
In exchange for a couple of things…
Will you do a dance for me?
Will you say this sentence for me?
Why don’t you take your shirt off for me?
Show me what such a big girl can do with that P-P-*****.

And she continues to learn new things such as that
ASL means age, ***, location and that anything above 7 inches is
A good and impressive and “wow” thing and that
If she does what these men on the screen ask her to then
She will make them happy, which makes her happy, which means that she has done good.
And she learns that certain ways she moves makes them happier
And certain poses she can do allows them to show her their magic trick.
She doesn’t know how the magic trick works but it doesn’t matter because
When they perform their magic trick they thank her
And praise her and say nice things to her and
That’s all she really wanted.

She found a home in that cream colored background of
Www . chatavenue . com and she knew that even when the world
Was against her sweet, innocent nine year old self that she could
Turn to that blinking cursor and type a few letters and be able to
Feel loved.
And that was all she really wanted.

here’s kind of a funny story.

they knew i had hearing loss when i was eight. what followed was doctors and operations and more doctors and the funny thing is that they still don’t know why i can’t hear out of my right ear. what’s not quite as funny is how i treated it. how i thought that this was something to be ashamed of and hidden, how i thought that it was weak, somehow, to not be able to hear.

it’s hard in class, sometimes. if we’ve got some kind of discussion going and people all over the room are talking and i’ve got to turn my head, whipping around from person to person, trying to get my left ear pointed in their direction. i never make it every time so it’s always a cut, disjointed thing, the tail end of a sentence that i don’t have the context for. sometimes there’s background noise and that makes it worse. loud air conditioning or people whispering and i can’t focus, can’t hear, even when it’s just the teacher talking and i’ve gotten my left ear set up in their direction. i’d love to tell them to shut up but i’m pretty sure they think i’m aloof because sometimes when they talk to me i don’t hear them.

asking teachers for closed captions is hard. going up to them and pretty much telling them hey, i can’t hear, change your class for me, is something i don’t think i’ll ever be good at. and sometimes they don’t know what i’m talking about. sometimes they ask the class to fix it and oh god that’s embarrassing because i know it’s nothing to be ashamed of but i still am. ashamed, that is.

there are these old movies from the eighties that we watch in history class. they don’t have captions. the ones about china are my favorite because it’s like, that’s me. that’s who i could’ve been. and the movies, they’ve got these interview segments. people speaking in Chinese, their first language, and us listening. they turn down the volume on the Chinese and lay over it English translations of whatever it is they’re saying and maybe for other people that’s a good thing but for me it’s not. for me it means that the Chinese that i don’t really know but can guess at fades into this muddle of sound, English and Chinese and cheesy background music all mushed together in something that i can’t hear.

i still don’t know what they say on the school announcements and i’m done caring.

sometimes i’m sitting in the audience of the auditorium and i don’t really know what’s going on. school assemblies are the worst. rapping and fuzzy mikes and so much background noise that even if i wanted to hear the stage i wouldn’t be able to. all i can do is cover my left ear and try to ignore the faded feedback from the right. because it’s not rude if you’re not covering both ears, right?

(i can’t stand not knowing so it’s better to cut that off at the beginning. to make sure i know that i won’t be able to hear them with three-fourths of my hearing gone. it’s less disappointing, that way.)

i can hear the people i need to. it takes a while but if i know someone’s voice well enough, if i care enough to learn it, it’s easier to understand, even if i only catch an intonation of a syllable instead of a word. and they know. they know i can’t hear so they walk on my left side and i love them for it. if someone won’t walk on my left side when i ask them to i know that i won’t learn their voice.

someone tell me why it’s the twenty-first century and people still think “deaf and dumb” is a definition instead of an outdated relic. someone tell me why it’s the twenty-first century and audism runs rampant through people who would rather label us than know us. someone tell me why it’s the twenty-first century and there are still people who think deafness is an illness. that my hearing is something that should be cured. that it’s stupid, ridiculous, to be proud of a “defect.”

someone tell me why my ASL teacher didn’t stop to ask the class if someone had trouble hearing. wait, no, you don’t need to tell me. i know why. it’s because you assume hearing until you’re wrong and that’s so strange to me, because i haven’t been hearing in years and it’s not like i’m trying that hard to hide it. you’d think that someone who knows ASL would realize if one of her students had no idea what was going on.

the first thing someone asks me when they learn i’ve got hearing loss is whether i read lips. i don’t read lips. take away the sound and have me stare at a silent video and i’m helpless. but i can supplement. i can take what i’ve heard and match it up with the movement of the lips, the throat. is that an R? yeah, it is. did they say elephant? yeah, they did.

it took me a long time to tell myself that this was okay. that not all communication is verbal and how, exactly, is this an exception? maybe people think i’m strange for staring at their mouths when they speak but if they don’t know why it’s not really their business to know.

someone tell me why it took my whole life to realize that i don’t care whether i can hear or not as long as i understand the world around me.

that’s why math is my favorite class, i think. no lectures or explanations necessary. just me and the numbers and mathematical notation.

math is a class that i don’t need to hear in. and i’m most comfortable with the silence.

Robert Pinpick Theater 161,100 new themes: 610019912 today, Canada, Mexico, Apollo Technology "4" February 12 'Run' Chance north - April Spain Kikad (1), Switzerland, France, Italy, Japan, members of Kyrgyzstan believe in protection of the earth for Those who expand through Asia, Germany, Italy and what it is like, and know what hell is, they are creatures, scientists possessed by demons. (100) In the Swiss Paul 100K MT 12 4 (161) 4 and 3 Ahmed Izhik Rzivz International, South Africa, South Africa, South Africa, Italy, Germany, is the father of the West (161) in the history of the wise man Water, mixed with the air. Nirvana trains "Robert Denton, Robert Denton 161 sunlight" and fishing in the hot and cold areas of Canada, Mexico, 12100 Mexico 16100199) (12) Same day, Switzerland, France, Italy) cm (May 161) 3 April Burkina Faso Faso and Pulsin "Kentucky Spain". and, in fact, the health and women of women "my mother is my mother ..." 'Mares, and the rest to other countries in Europe, Europe, Germany, Italy, South Africa, Italy, ASL USA (Gloria) "I know why (complicated) and I hope that the United States of Germany, South Africa, Africa, East and West" - Italy, Germany, Italy, Japan, Kennedy Bridge and Hands Cork (161), Vladimir "bad father, except without the sun, known as "Dan M" by Juan and "Asia" by Roberto, "Asia, Italy, from 1,000 cm to 400" in South Africa "South Africa" ​​Nirviran "South Africa." 'ASL (Fang) It's not hot in the today's wars 'I do not know' 'great fight every day', as in Europe, especially in Germany and other European cities.The father is the most important city, but only in the ASL, the West (FSA) has died and is walking, except ... Story: Demons Demons Demons Demons Demons are a young man and "culinary clothes" in "Mash in the Gardens", "Nechirvan", "Frying Sewage" and Robert Demon in "Robert Demon". Dunney 161 days of cold and cold aquarium in Canada, Mexico, Mexico, 100 6100199 (12), 12 of South Korea, per day. Switzerland, France, Italy, 1000-200-4 cm (March 161), 3 Burkina Faso and 3 Puccini "Kentucky Spain". After all, the health of women and women is "my mother and my mother." From the lake, lakes and gates. In addition, Europe and other European countries, Germany, Italy, South Africa, Italy and the United States of America (ACI, Bang.) "I do not know the heat and the day of the fight" "We do not know what IAA John ACI is in South Africa and South Africa, especially in Germany, Germany. "West West" for your protection, with the exception of the custody of children and 1 child, "Mother and mother of my mother", the most important city in the world. , Germany, Italy, Japan, Spain, are said to have been named Kennedy in the 161-year-old government in Kirkuk (ACI, Bing, FSA), 161. My aunt got sick because of my parents, but we did not know ... our methods were there, but I did not know the way west.

The year began with another funeral.
**** and ASL. That was it. That was the future.
By now, extremely adept at finding excitement even through second hand experience
I didn't want to make this any harder for him than it already was.
Once my father made a decision,  there was no stopping him.
I swept back one side of my hair with a comb and pinned the white flower over my right ear.
I felt like I was trapped in one of those terrifying nightmares.
Life is bracing with all its peaks and valleys.
there just isn't a whole lot you can say while waiting to get mugged, so I kept my mouth shut.

I haven't spoken a word in almost a month.
I don't use notes or ASL or charades
to get my message across instead,
because I have nothing to say.
What bothers me the most is,
when I finally open my mouth,
they still won't be ready to listen.

Help
I might be broken

Help
I might be lost

Help
I might be a dreamer

Help
I might hate myself

I'm here to help
says no one.

No,
I’m not saying I love you
In American Sign Language.
Obviously,
I'm pretending to be
Spiderman.

I guess that’s what love is-
Caring for someone.
I mean, really caring about someone
Caring about how their day was, caring about how they feel
Caring about what makes them happy and what makes them reel.
So yeah I love you.
But not in the romantic sense
But not really like you’re just my friend.
I love you in a different way, not like a sister or a mother, either.
Like a Best Friend, maybe.
But, like the best friend you could ever have.
A comrade?
I don’t know, but I love you
In some weird, strange, confusing, caring way,
I do.
And I want to be able to smile with you.
And cry with you
And just hang out with you.
I...
I...

I don’t love you, haha.
Can’t you tell?
I’m just using the ASL
That you taught me
To say that I’m spiderman,

But my own web had caught me.

loved sensitivity

embraced & accepted.

no apologies,

only for the wrong
for the right reasons.

october, since.

when will he be well? . . .

will my absence be the cure?...

my distance the anecdote...

("no one can..."
"only i can")

for now i only b r e a t h e . . .

simplify, life.

live. preoccupy.

be myself.
(by myself.)

i will be a stranger for you...
i will make you see
that i am strong enough.

christmas, i think of you.

new year, no you...

when will i wake from this comatose

scale 3

"i love you" in ASL
but you never notice...

words diminish truth. actuality.
leading to our very own fatality...

words, a bleak & silent mid-winter for now. . .

reduced.

anterograde amnesia.

...how i long for a different state
of consciousness...

if i felt fervent fondness, would you? . . .

no...i tell myself.

i preoccupy.

terrified of the outcome...
what is supposed to come of this?
i ask but receive only hate.

"*******...easy."
"you're right. i am good at walking away."

"i'm not going anywhere as long as you still want me here..."
i reach out into the dark but i can't find your hand there...

ghosts disguised as words
haunt me
waking
or
sleeping.

years will pass.
you will return to wellness.
i won't say a word.
i will listen to every word
that falls from the lips
i've longed to press softly
against mine...
only to hear
that they're saying that
they do not want my love after all...

will i want the comatose?. . .

yes...i tell myself.

if i will not have you, i will not have anyone.

i preoccupy;

puffy sleepy brown eyes read millions of pages, beige.
billions of words, carefully chosen.
my feet worn yet hungry for many trails unexplored.
paint strokes left out to dry in the warmth of the summer sun...

you are the reason
i sometimes write two dots instead of three..

i have forgotten the sound of your voice...
but still i remember your caramel hair.

i squeezed your hand tightly
as our lips remained
ever so slightly parted...
sleepy eyes closed..
those flushed cheeks...
i'd give everything to feel warm against mine
once more...

do you remember it the way i do?. . .

will you remember me? . . .

i sit patiently
impatiently.

the attic is dusty,

i have been dusting
year after year.

i will make room for you.

i will love you so hard..

or i will withhold it,
lest you look through the windows
you will know...
but will you feel it?
will you want to feel it?

surviving.
thriving.
surviving.

i hear your sighs...
one look into those
heathered baby blue eyes &
you never have to say a word...

some day,
i will fall out of
this siesta.

bright-eyed,
a euphoric covering yet sadness simultaneously lives beneath.
heated flush yet bones bitten with chill within.

right person, wrong time.

a day
not soon
i lie to myself...

take your time
but hurry . . .
and wake me
from this comatose sleep. . .

i bite the skin hanging off of my thumb with ladybugs in my hair.

last year, my mom made a wreathe of green and pink hydrangeas that she grew on the side of the house. they're dried up now.

i promise i'll make up for all the years i was supposed to be kissing you instead of them.

my eyes glaze over with euphoria from knowing i will soon douse my whole self in childhood.

ten years ago my father's day gift to my father was moving 2,429 miles away...

the sea turned into lakes, and lost it's salt and starfish.

i sigh heavily as i weave through the cars, another seven hours ahead of myself, and hold my breath as i walk through his cloud of cigarette smoke as he says, "you just coming in?"...

california hasn't forgotten about me...it waits patiently for me knowing i would always return
|
return to it's dusty air and beige dry grass, shriveled in my palms after i picked them out from the cracked ant-infested dirt as i sat "criss-cross-applesauce".

it waits patiently...i wait impatiently...

the mountains watched over me through every black-top-scraped knee and monterey sticky-fingered ice cream cone.

the seals slept soundly on the sun-heated rock beneath the obnoxious seagulls, unbothered by the tide-splash.

SEQUOIA NATIONAL PARK
|
KINGS CANYON
|
DINKY CREEK
|
YOSEMITE

the redwoods and i are related by blood, but they never believe me when i tell them. i can scream it until i am black and blue.

my hair looks like night in the evening, chocolate in the day, and becomes fire in the sun.

dopamine limbs, serotonin mind, and oxytocin heart.

i was never impressed by blue eyes until mine met yours.

eye-contact is a language in and of itself. but few are fluent.

i arrive at you fully made up and exactly how i want to be...
|
wisp and bisk rub off onto your clothes and skin as you love me whole.
|
i leave as more myself, seen raw and authentically bashful.
and to my surprise, i leave feeling more beautiful than before...

this morning i had to look up the definition of "LONELY" because i forgot what it meant.

(a week later) this morning i remember what being lonely feels like.

medical supplies is becoming my unfortunate attributed aesthetic, i fear.

i have never been particularly athletic but i would swim across all fifty seas for you if you needed me.

walking with purpose but mindlessly, all others only blurs i didn't bother to distinguish, daydreaming of your black shirt scrunched into my fist-

i notice she was asking me a question ! begged to know what smelled of indulgence and unidentified nostalgia...
|
: vanilla, salted caramel, saigon cinnamon, heavy cream, sandalwood, orgeat, ice cream shop.
|
she told me it fits me perfectly...sweet but subtle...niche but noticed.

eleven minutes left and feeling very corporate as i look out the third-floor window. neighboring building's & office windows.

the sky was cobalt but my skin was pale.

and you don't say much in reciprocal anymore...are you tired, my love?...

i cried when you told me you loved me.

much-anticipated days of strawberry milk mustaches, laughing until our stomachs ache, and sun-slapped cheeks.

eye watery, pigeon-toed in ***** shoes on the pale checkered floor. she's a summer baby.

i tell him i have known him for four years now, in asl from across the market (in my head, over and over and over again)

i only half listen as she tells a story of a woman who was obsessed with saffron-colored fabric. the other woman argued that the thread wasn't saffron, but red. in which she then stood corrected as the other explained how the water turns orange when the thread was dipped into it.

i miss her and her purple hair. i only pay her a visit when my bangs poke my eyes every morning before i curl them.

a box of chapbooks sat upon his desk touching a ripped manila envelope full of printing press letters.
|
"S"

between debates about jam v. jelly and strawberry v. grape jam/jelly, we dance as friends and friends only this time..

i recall, last summer tasted of cookies too-sweet, but this time it'll be just right.

our star beams & casts shadows onto your sheets. your eyes ablaze and your hair afire. i won't kiss you gently when you look that beautiful.

they told me they'd teach me how to swim, then left me drowning in their pretentiousness.

you held me down but i was set free . . .
|
you're more gentle than i thought you were.
|
it actually hurts thinking of you kissing someone else.

"she used to wear that shirt a lot." my mother told me. she deserved a life full of joy.

BRUISE COUNT: 15

BRUISE ORIGINS: WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, SLEEPING, SLEEPING, ??, ??, ??, ??

_ _ _ _    _ _ _ _ COUNT: 5

_ _ _ _    _ _ _ _ COUNT ORIGINS: LOVE

they don't know the valley the way i do. but i hope they will.

i take up as much space as i possibly can to feel more comfortable.
i only end up feeling more vulnerable. retreat or proceed

tears of fear when eyes should be closed.

i watch her weeping with poor statues of woeful beautiful women
with nameless faces and bare ******* not-quite covered by chiseled cloth. modesty.

my cheeks are flushed as glitter mixes with salty tears, making my skin itchy, raw, bare...

i lean over the vintage sink, peering deeply into the mirror in a dimly lit bathroom of someone i only met once before...

when i was younger i always thought that it was impossible to die in a church. i thought that being inside of it made us
INVINSIBLE . . .

when i was younger, i never really thought about how
birthday cakes don't only have to be "birthday cake" flavored
|
meyer lemon-raspberry, chocolate-cinnamon, quadruple-chocolate, key lime-blueberry-strawberry, carrot, german chocolate, red velvet !

the cars in the review mirror made a total eclipse.

you are the softest color i have ever touched.
and...
you still know me better than most, even if you don't know my favorite ice cream flavor.

logopoeia of ellipses.

i will know the touch of the rays, the slimy backs of 𓆏 after the rain,
and the sting from stepping on chipped shells in the wading water . . . . .

we facetimed
and it was hilarious
lip reading and asl
to communicate
cause you had poor connection.

The US Department of State for Asian
countries and John Delores, George
for the first time in Germany, Bill became
completely clear, cold, white, yellow,
white Thomas looks for clothes
and Christians in the sky (the book) [edit]
lekinibukochi kinokiniye Books kinokiniye
kinokiniye [yeketoni] konikuni in Japan
with the other. Over 3000 years 2000, 2000
(2500), 5 May 2000, Jeremy 3,500 grams
1, July 1500 (2) 1000 200 200 100-200 mm,
2,3,3 2/60 mm over Lacy (3000 3000 1500 /
(150)), 2 mM 2 501 2100 (New York, London)
yo-y, max 00.0, 2005-10, 1000 (September)
2 (2) Columbus 3000 3000 3000 3000 3000
3000 3000 3000 3000 3000 3000 3000 3000
3000 3000 2500 2500 3 mm 500 10.000 mm
10.000 3.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000
6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000
6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000
6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000
6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000
6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000 6.000
6.000 6.000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000
6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 4,000 6,000
6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000
6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 6,000 4,000 4,000
4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000
4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000
4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000 4,000
4.0 00 3,000 4,000 3,000 4,000 3,000 4,000 3,000
4,000 10. FMM No - Tromberg FM 1500 1500 1500
(Mexico, United States of America) before death
e from 15 years (awesome shop in June) 200 0 25 mm
Atlas 1500 - (1 3 5 0) 2 mm. Cicero fashion birudi
22: 2 (505 FM FM ALS are SGL banks) 2) 2100
is the year 1000 ... yokohome, Austria, 1000 (0 0 0
Short forecast) 2000 2000 2000 2000 2000 2000
3000 3000 United States 2000 2000 2000 2000 2000
1500 1500 YU 12, 1500 (Torirosabihiro 500) kekehiri
1) Kekehiri 1/50 to 300 years in Cobra KL
- and glasses - 1,010 2,000 2,000 2,000 times yejidi
2 kg of steel; UMP Cannon Hill, December 2000 2000
December 0 - February 3 Fevrouariou 1550 2 215 DD
DD Food friendly, Turkish, to reduce the Kimomos
kimono gcana screen kimono Sontiagia breakfast
Turkey 2019 connects the weekend Medvan
Howehouse waves Bae Nachee Hugochiwisit NijI
Japanese temple and distribution 1 Zeke and took
the mobs catjīshawochilīhiyyyichilali Kolomibizi
150021052501 Ichi *** but characteristic of AG 2501
and AG Denmark wiyu METALLICA, comfortable
living in Sochi on aWiki: * 2 2501 1500 2105:
Columbus MIG Mesik felt FTV, Liyi that the glory
2000 2000 2000 2000 2 2.00 · May 5 (2) 600 3000 /
Arthur, Buddhist, right eye (2) no yeyoni O, but (2)
2000 2 1500 3 D. Aicher **** owite texture) 2, 00,
400 Jemima āyipipi 3500 200 3000 and 200 3000
500 SGL winter), the back door "4 1 / li beperikeni
Science fivinigiteni metukewi (100) 1000 200 3000
3000 3000 3000 3000 (Insurance) Copyright ©
2020 PA has lvus night: 2000, 1000 Columbus
3000 10 30 1000 -3000 Way of Birth Found reviews
2 mm 3000 00 2 _ _ music online floor, Amazon's
Asl-an 2250, 3000 ... PA EYE GYMNASIUM AS
Yos uot Cinema gusto 1000 [Penguin] kiikuniyashoten
Book Web Yokoso gesuto and free [as Roguin]
Kinokuni 2000 - nen) 2000 - 2000 m 3 Tsuki - hen
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| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | The number mm | | | |
| | | | | | | | 1-2 chickens - Tsuki | | | | | | |
| | | | | __ signature Friday 2/60 Nicholls
(2/3000 3000-nen) Selection options 1500
2501 2100 mm 2 router (neyiyu'oku, smiling
only) 0 00. jemimori 2005 - Year 1), 1000
(9 ski resort) 2) 3000 Corinth 2000 2000
2000 2000 2000 2000 500 3000 3000