Alright! I am starting another new story. This one is based off of personal experience and do not ask. Guys are stupid and I will leave it at that.

I will try to put a poem/quote/song that goes with the mood/chapter I have. This isn't much to begin with and usually my chapters are a lot longer than this, but I wanted to try something new! Bloop Bloop! Sorry, had a moment, okay, better! Now, you have to read and review, because I need to know what my readers think. I have to. I feed off of it. I do.

Any questions? Review. Any comments? Review. Wanna know what the things on the end of you shoelaces are called? Review. Anything? Review.

In other words...Review!

"Though you have never possessed me

I have belonged to you since the beginning of time…."

-Mina Loy "One O'Clock at Night"

I hate it. Hate it with everything I have, but I can't stay away. It's like that light that makes you woozy if you stare at it too long, but that wooziness isn't that bad. Well, isn't as bad as it could be. It could be worse. I could be head over heels. I'm more like head over…kneecaps. Yeah, kneecaps. Not heels. Maybe just mid-thigh. Head over heels is crazy. But…he doesn't know. And he doesn't feel the same.

That's what I think.

Everyone else has their own opinions, but what teenage world wouldn't have biases and opinions? Here is no exception. Here is exactly the same as any other small town. Forks is…cutlery. There's the plastic variety that are made of this material that won't change, slip, or sag for hundreds of years, there's the metal kind that's strong, with exotic designs, but make scraping noises when they hit your plate, and then there's the kind that look like metal, but are really plastic. I hate that kind. They can't make up their mind. They don't want to have the odd designs that put them into the "metal" category, but they don't want to be labeled as "plastic" although they really are. You're plastic! Act like it!

I'm not plastic. I'm not metal.

I'm more like a…spork.

I'm Bella.

I'm Bella the spork. Sounds like a kid's show.

He's not plastic. But he's not metal. He's definitely not a spork. But…he fits with the plastic cutlery, and somewhat with the metal utensils. What is he? He's some kind of eating object, but I can't figure out what it is.

He's Edward.

Edward the…I don't know. And that doesn't bother me? That he's not in a category? He's just Edward. That's his excuse for everything. "He's Edward." "Oh, that's just Edward." "Silly, Edward."

And he's my best friend.

This isn't one of those sappy love scenarios, but more a tale of wanting what you can't have. No, more of what you can have, but you can't at the same time.

Get it?

Neither do I.

Soo....? Whatcha think? It's sort of a cliffhanger if you shake your head, squint, and turn out the lights, but it's all I could do right now. My Buddy wanted me to post this story so...I am. I had to get to it because I have been a bit preoccupied. So? Should I continue? Review!