Hello everyone!
It's been a while since I've put anything up here. It's been a busy summer in Newyorkachusetts, but I think things are beginning to quiet down..,so, please read and REVIEW! Reviews make me happy...

As does peanut butter. And House.

But that is, alas, beside the point.

Disclaimer: Unhappily done.


It is dark when I awaken. The moon is hidden by a patch of cloud, and all the furniture seems to be floating, dark shapes in a darker fog. I look up, catching the farewell winks of the stars glued to the ceiling, and close my eyes. The night becomes complete, and I stare into my lids. I can see tiny dots, too small to see individually, dancing and twirling like a tortured marionette. Together they make up deep, endless black.

I open my eyes again. I can see shapes now, edges sharp against the walls. The moon returns, in a glorious revelation that bathes my room in a blue-gray glow. My eyes cannot stand the sudden light and I turn away, into the body lying next to me. He moves slightly, and I burrow my way close. His body heat seeps into my skin, transforming muscle and bone into a mesh of warmth. I wrap my arm around his back and he mumbles something from the depths of his subconscious and moves closer. As we lie there, entangled in a web of heat and blankets, I allow my mind to wander, to follow the thin strings of moonlight out of my room, down the empty street, and across the sleeping town to another room altogether, filled with another boy and another girl and another web.

The Other Boy, I call him. The Other Boy, who plays hockey like a madman, yet also plays soft guitar in his room. The Other Boy who called me sister mockingly while he took my coat and filled the pockets with post-it paper cranes. The Other Boy who was always there for me, the Other Boy that I destroyed and tore apart in a wild fit of immaturity, the Other Boy who now can't stand to stay in the same room as me, the Other Boy who was my best friend, the Other Boy, the Other Boy, the Other Boy.

I can't do this anymore, he told me one month ago. I can't do this, not again, not after last time, I'm sorry. I can't do this. We sat in that car for hours, silence suffocating the both of us. I can't do this. I asked him why. He said then that I had broken him, irrevocably destroyed him and that he couldn't, wouldn't go through it again. I can't do this. Besides, I have a girlfriend, and you have a boyfriend. I had a plan, I said. We would have waited until later, when we were both single, I said. Please, I said. Please. I can't do this, not again, not after last time, I can't do this—

The moon is lighter now, the sky grayer. Everything looks as if it is made of fragile glass. I hold my hand out in the air, trying not to break it. My chest feels heavy, and my eyes burn. I turn back into the sleeping form beside me. Enough, I think bitterly. Enough. We are both too old for this. I love this man, who laughs at my jokes because they are funny, not because I'm the one who made them. I love this man who is dependable, and honest, and kind, and completely over the moon about me. I'm not going to spend my time mooning over the Other Boy, who is irresponsible, a Lord of the Lies, who teases me and fills my shampoo bottle with honey, who would make jokes and look at other women but would pick a fight with anyone who tried to flirt with me, who never said he loved me but would hold me tight as if he would never let me go, who once made my life feel vivid and alive and complete.

Fuck you, Derek Venturi. I can do this. I will do this.

The sun comes up, bathing my room in a song of reds, yellows and oranges. I squint, trying to compute the sudden change in light. The man next to me grumbles once more and burrows deeper in the pillow. A memory comes, so fast and so hard i can barely breathe from the force of it. A memory of the Other Boy, in our own web, curled around me like a proctective cocoon, his arm curled around me and his legs weaved through mine. I can feel his breath tickling the back of my neck, the soft scratch of his stubble, his voice growling in my ear, "Wake up, Casey, you're drooling again..."

Can I do this?