"Hey, whats wrong?" he asks, waiting for the cashier to give him his change for the hot chocolate. "Nothing", walking towards the wooden chairs, she sat onto the stiff chair and looked at him. Her eyes seemed so different from what he's used to. She wasn't the type to say what she feels, that is until last April. "Connor, I have two hot chocolates with extra whipped cream." Connor gets up to get their drinks. She looked over at the granite table with the two steaming hot chocolates when she catches his deep eyes of blue, green, and a hint of yellow, that look best under the glowing sun. His eyes were what make her sane. Looking into his eyes sparked a feel of home and comfort. He walked slowly back to the wooden table and kisses her forehead. Without knowing they both drifted off into thoughts in their mind. They both thought of the summer and how perfect it was. The sand, the sun and NOTHING to worry about. Now, her life consists of hiding her tears, and his consists of holding it together for her. "Ahh, ahh, damn colds" a man coughs behind them and brings them back to reality and stopped dreaming of the past. He can see the pain in her eyes and grabs her hand "Britt are you okay? What's wrong?" She squeezed his hand in anger, wishing her response wasn't what it was. "Nothing" she drops her head down and looks to the hardwood floors in guilt, pity, and anger that the pain is overbearing her real feelings. "I know this isn't you Britt, talk to me." he says in a soft sincere voice. "Nothing, nothings wrong, you know why?" as her voice begins to crack, and she raises her voice she begins. "Nothings wrong because everything is wrong. Everything is turning to shit and it's turning into nothing. I cannot take the pain of Cass not being here anymore. Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming up and I don't know what to do without her. I don't know how to control this pain anymore. This is my glass of pain!" gesturing and forming in her hands a glass that is overflowing with pain, sadness, anger, and grief. In tears she tries to hold back her deep sorrow but looking into his eyes she loses it. She feels safe and comfort when she looks into his eyes, and even though he doesn't understand hand and hand what she's dealing with she knows that in him is where she finds her comfort and where she can speak her care of nothing. Where she can be real, because nothing is real anymore.

The Things You Thought You Were

In front of the christmas tree is an innocent little girl that is ten years old. Posing as if she's the only one who exist, she grins and raises her left eyebrow with her hands on her hips. While she was smiling, her sister was full of excitement, sharing words with the red suited man who comes down the chimney every December. Their mother gawks at her oldest daughter, paired with a never ending smile that their family could never see upside down.Things change like the thick, hot air in the Summer to the crisp, thin air in the Winter. Her sisterremebers her as her best friend, the one who would sneak into each others rooms in the middle of the night to share secrets and stories or the one who would play with Bratz and transform their room into a Bratz house. The years pasted and the Bratz dolls became friends with the dust bunnies, and the innocent girl in the photo was no longer innocent and no longer her sister's best friend. She wanted to find out who she was, and started with the "party road" and it stuck, just like her sister was stuck to her. This ten year old innocent girl never knew how rough of a road could be. The road she went down was a road that had been through an earthquake, a road that if you went down, it would be difficult to make a U-turn on. It breaks her family's hearts to know now what she didnt know then, that her life would fall short, fall miserably short. The road ended with a dead end, and no she wasnt able to make a U-turn.

7777 Heaven Dr.

Dear Casshole,

              The Ralph Lauren brightly colored bottle of perfume, sends my mind through an endless chain of memories. You're sweet smile, only when you want it. Your laugh that echoes in my mind like being in a hallway, and its slowly running away from my memory. Do you remember when we were so young and couldnt get enough of those Barbie dolls? How we would take the thrashed yellow cart and attach it to mom's bike, and somehow shove Sampson softie in the cart with us. When the tip of your nose turns red as soon as you step foot outside and your scarf isn't enough to keep you warm. When the lights sparkle on the mystic night and school is out for a long period of time. When you would wake me up in the crack of dawn to look at our stockings laid on the bricked fireplace where "Santa" had left them. The days we didnt want to do get out of bed, but mom said it was a cleaning day. Remember when I pretended I was doing the dishes, but sprayed you with the water, and shockingly you kicked me in the butt. By the way, thanks for that, I did get a bruise. The bruise faded, as well as time. Dying eggs for Easter became a contest of whose egg was decorated best, and somehow you managed to make it a shit colored egg that Dad named Tupac. Remember when we went to visit Grandpa and Grandma, we slept in the bed that was stiff as the floor and almost like it had never been slept in. You and I lay there, uncomfortable, and talked till we were forced to sleep.



                   Love,

                                Your Sister Brittles

Healing

The quick breath I breathe, in and out, in and out. My breath becomes shorter and my mind starts to race. Tears fall down my cheeks and suddenly my nose becomes crowded with snot. I fall into my own arms and feel my body lose control and my stomach curls into a roller coaster as my chest moves in and out while a huge tear falls down my from my eyes. Wishing that everyday was another day with you, and dreading that it’s another day farther away from you. Forcing my eyes shut almost as to wake myself from a nightmare but to be awakened by tears of what is painfully true. Thoughts of who you are and who you would have been. I quick breath I breathe.

A Lifetime of Friendship

Something I'm so thankful to have.

Why I write?

As the world falls around me, I stop and ask myself why I write? I write to sort my thoughts out, when there are a million things running through my head I don't know which one to think about. So i write. I write to let the tears fall. I write because I know she isn't coming back. I write of the beautiful kingdom she calls home. I write hoping somehow someone who I love will read what I write. I write to my sister. As if the paper is her arms wide open and judge-free. I write to forget about the world I'm living in today and write to remember it then. I write to remember.