Here I am stuck in this hell hole of a place I call home.  Wishing to just run as far away as possible; I can’t handle this anymore.  These demons in my head take over when I’m here.  The only way to escape them are to write their thoughts on paper.  These thoughts are often dark, as dark as the hair on this stupid boy I’m fascinated with.  When the demons aren’t screaming I write about him. Him, as in thee Michael Gordon; the wonderful boy everyone loves.  Aside from that my name is Valery, Valery Irwin, the girl everyone is afraid of.  Everyone use to love me because of the figure I have, the raven hair , green eyes, pale skin, and petite body.  I guess they got bored of all that real fast.  Once they found out I am a “different kind of spices,” they ran off like a pack of wolves.  As in “different spices” I mean the ones that don’t talk or care about anything.  So, here I sit all alone, hoping for someone to come crashing into my world and change me.  In other words, I’m a loser and my life is pathetic. 

Work today was semi-interesting, Michael and I had a short staring contest.  At least that’s what I was thinking; regardless it was cut too soon.  During this battle I could feel my heart beating just as fast as the urge I had to run.  I’m not quite sure why I wanted to run.  Either it was because I was happy he noticed me; or it was the scary fact he noticed me.  Suddenly the word vomit was about to shoot full blown and hit him right in the face.  I absolutely hate talking no matter the reason I’ll gladly dodge that bullet any day.  The only issue was I had no clue what was about to shoot out of my mouth.  All of a sudden I screamed “I LIKE YOUR HAIR!”  What was I thinking, I made myself look like an idiot.  Although his hair is pretty amazing, I still looked stupid.  Basically Michael is the knock off of Gerard Way or Billie Jo Armstrong, both punk rock singers.  Definitely not arguing, I love everything little detail about Michael.  His hair, which changes color just as much a person would changes clothes.  His piercing green eyes, his tall figure.  I absolutely love his grungy style, but of course I’m a “different spices” so it’s normal.  The thing is I am not normal; I would kill to be normal.  Just to be normal for a even a day would fulfill my needs.  Obviously I know that the thought is crazy, but I yearn for it.  Back to Michael, he just smiled at my sudden outburst.  I turned around and did my best to avoid him as I finished up my shift.  I wouldn’t say I love him, but the feeling I get around him is gut wrenching.  In both good and bad ways, why is love so hard?  Back to my day; it was average until I went home.  The demons were cheering louder than ever before.  I chose to do what I do best, tune them out.  I grabbed my journal and wrote all they had to say out.  These words are poured out onto the paper in no time.  All words that a person should never hear, “the scary thoughts.”  These demons tell me I am a nobody, worthless, ugly, unlovable, the scariest one is “Michael will never love you.”  These demons try so hard to brainwash me with these thoughts. Some days they succeed, but I am worth more.  I let all that pour out and then the words I love most began to flow.  I wrote about Michael, the boy that’s just as mysterious as me.  Writing about the dreams I wish to have with him.  Finding out we are destined to be together and live happily ever after.  If only that could become a reality.  I then laid my clustered head down and fell into a restless sleep.

The next few days aren’t special, they were miserable.  All my parents do is argue and complain.  To a point where it makes a person want to throw up.  I try my best to ignore them, that’s by writing obviously.  Today I decided to grab my journal and sit out in my backyard.  All I wrote about was Michael, the voices were nice today.  Probably one of their techniques to brainwash me.  All of a sudden I was pulled out of trance by my dad tapping me on the shoulder. “Hey Vale, want to go for a walk with your old man?” the middle-aged music obsessed man asked me.  My dad and I are almost the same person I think.  We listen to the same music, alternative music of course.  We also have the same style, band t-shirts, black jeans, converse, grunge everything.  I love that my dad can relate to me; even though he’s older than me.  I agreed to the walk, not knowing what was going to be brought up.  As we walked he asked about my job at the music shop.  “How’s everything at the music shop, any new tunes?”  I told him everything was fine, but I debated on telling him about Michael.  No one knows about the infatuation I have with the boy.  I decided against telling my dad about Michael.  Only because I didn’t want to get into “the talk.”  Randomly my dad asks me, “I see you writing all the time, what are you writing about?”  I started to panic, my brain doing flips continuously.  What do I even say to him?  Do I tell him the truth?  About the voices inside my head, I contemplate for a few minutes.  I already knew he found everything suspicious.  I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.  I answered with, “I just write about my day, like a diary nothing special.”  I knew he felt the tension I had inside, but he let it go.  We finished the rest of our walk in an awkward silence.  Right when we got home I went to sleep; I have to work in the morning. 

I wake up to the screaming sound of my alarm blaring throughout my room.  I was so excited to go to work, only to see Michael of course.  Today I decided to bring my journal and write at my desk.  I thought maybe I could write about Michael while he is in the same room as me. As I was sorting out the records Michael walked up to me.  My stomach began to churn, my cheeks turned pink, and my knees felt weak. Michael has never spoken to me before, just staring contest and the awkward, “I LIKE YOUR HAIR” incident.  “What’s your favorite kind of music?”  Michael asks me shyly.  I smiled and responded with “just about anything, but I love alternative, punk rock, emo ext.”  Michael looked at me and smiled so big and yelled “ME TOO!!!!” I wasn’t expecting that reaction and for him to agree with me.  “What’s your favorite band? Mine is 30 Seconds to Mars!” Michael asks.  “I’d say Falling in Reverse or Pierce the Veil, I love that band too!” I said.  I was bursting with happiness and the butterflies were fluttering at full speed.  That was the first encounter that day, I went back to my area and grabbed my journal and let it all flow.  About twenty minutes later Michael walks back up to me as I was writing.  At first i didn’t notice he was standing in front of me.  I was writing and he was watching my every move.  Of course I was writing about the “dark things” too.  I think he might of saw some of the words too, but I really hope not.  He is the last person I want to scare off.  Michael asks “you like to write? I had no idea.”  I got so nervous, I didn’t know what to say, “yeah I do.”  I answered so slowly I was almost sure he thought I was crazy at this point.  He wanted to know what I wrote about so badly.  I obviously couldn’t tell him because he’s a topic in that damn thing.  I felt so trapped because I like the kid so much he could just suck me in and I’d let him read it.  I had to keep it together because I cannot let him get his hands on it. Michael kept asking to read it, but I would reject every time.  I could feel him getting angry or just disappointed.  He has made an effort to talk to me twice and I am just shutting him down.  He walked away leaving me breathless and confused.  Why was he so curious about my writing? 

Over the next few weeks Michael still probes at me to see my journal.  I decline every time for obvious reasons.  Exclude those interrogations and we have actually gotten a lot closer.  We talk every day and finally got each others numbers.  We share music recommendations to each other and he even opened up about his life.  I had no clue his life was just as complicated as mine!  He has told me about his dad and how he left when Michael was fifteen.  His dad was an alcoholic and a pure monster.  His mom means everything to him, just like music.  He plays guitar to escape from reality; like I write to escape.  Michael told me “I want to be in a band and put on gigs and become someone.” I have went to his house a few times and he has played a few songs for me.  I believed in him at the first strum, he is simply amazing.  I went home and wrote about all of these adventures with Michael and about how I think I’ve fallen in love with him.  The other day Michael wanted to come over to my house because his house was “hectic.”  Michael and I had a pretty intense talk about our lives.  How complicated they are, but how they have gotten better with having each other in our lives.  He continued to ask about my journal and I got annoyed.  I was tired of him asking about the stupid thing.  All it is, is a notebook with stupid words all over, but those words aren’t for him to see. I think Michael felt my anger and just left without saying a word.

   *Michael’s point of view*

All I want is to get to know her on a more personal level.  I mean I know the basics her parents background, siblings, interests, fears, ext.  However,  I know there is a deeper secret, but what is it?  What could be so bad? I have issues too.  She doesn’t know them all yet, but I plan on telling her soon.  My plan is too open up more to her and maybe she will open up to me.  As the next few weeks go on, we get closer and closer, but not enough.  I was starting to get aggravated with her turning me down everytime I wanted to know more.  I know her journal holds what I want to know, but how do I get it?  Maybe if she brings it to work I can just take it and read it fast.  I know that sounds horrible, but I care about her and just want to know more.  I showed up to work and saw her writing, I felt a relief shoot through my body.  As her break approached I knew I needed to just grab it and read it fast.  There it was sitting on the desk by her backpack.  I felt horrible, but here we go; I grabbed it and ran to the bathroom.  I opened it and began analyze the words thoroughly.  These words were so dark; just as dark as my thoughts.  I had no clue her life was this miserable.  No idea that she had these “voices” in her head. I care about Valery so much and now I feel terrible for stealing her lifeline.  When she writes it cures her voices; they ease away.  Her break was over and I can’t stop reading.  What do I do? Put it back and forget it or bring it home and return it later.  I decided to bring it home and finish reading it.  I don’t think she noticed her journal being gone the first few days, but as the days went on it got worse.  She was starting to look horrible and miserable.  I was so stuck I needed to stop reading and return her lifeline, but I couldn’t stop.  As I read on the words started to shed light and turn into happiness.  Valery was writing about some boy she really liked.  I felt so jealous at first, but that jealousy turned into anger.  Wishing this mystery boy was me. Do I like Valery?  What is happening?  I continued to read and the descriptions started to describe me.  I was almost sure of it, but I wasn’t sure.  The next week or so I didn’t talk to Valery, I was terrified too.  For so many reasons, one being how much I hurt her.  I look away her lifeline leaving her so miserable, I stopped talking to her and I could see that effect as well.  I became her best friend, I think her second lifeline as well and I cut it just like that.  Whenever I was around her she seemed as though she was on top of the world. I loved seeing her so happy; it made me happy.  Now she doesn't talk or show emotion.  The only emotions I see are sadness and anger.  Angry at the world and the jerk who took her journal, but she’s not mad at me.  She has no clue I am the one who took her lifeline; I need to tell her.  I ignore her every time she tries and talks to me, I know I hurt her every time too.  This morning I woke up and realized how much Valery means to me.  Seeing her smile makes me feel whole,  hearing her laugh is so contagious.  Seeing her walk into work everyday make the butterflies flutter, but seeing her sad and miserable makes me feel sick.  Knowing I am the reason makes me hate myself.  I woke up realizing I am in love with the girl everyone is afraid of.  I finally know why everyone is so afraid of her, but me I am not afraid.  I am simply in love with Valery Irwin and I need to make things right again.  I walked to Valery’s house journal in hand and music in ears.  Listening to her favorite songs, all of a sudden I feel a wet drop hit my hand.  I was crying, but why?  Am I really this in love with her?  I started to think about all of our little adventures together and  I am definitely in love.  Before I knew it I was at her doorstep anticipating these next few moments.  After a few minutes I grew up the courage and knocked.  Quickly the door flew open and there stood a restless looking Valery.  Even at her worst she looked so amazing.  She glanced down at my left hand and saw her lifeline in my presence.  I stood there rock solid so scared of what happens next.  All of a sudden Valery was in my arms crying uncontrollably.  I don’t know what to feel, happiness or sadness.  I was the cause of this sadness, but she’s not punching me so that’s a relief.  I held her tight not knowing what she was thinking.  Was this the last time I will feel her touch?  Does she hate me? She can’t; I just realized I love her.  Do I tell her?  After several minutes of her in my arms and me contemplating on confessing my love for her I decided.  I leaned closer to her and whispered, “I love you.”  She looked up at me with glossy eyes and weak knees and smiled.  I smiled back, praying that she feels the same. Next thing I knew was her lips were on mine.  I was put into a trance one that I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave.  I was pulled out when I heard a petite “I love you too…”