'Rapunzel let your hair down, oh Rapunzel, and let me climb up.'
With a tug on the golden (flowing princess) locks of hers, the daily routine was finished and we could part only passing looks of rolling our eyes at the friends that are always circling around us (friends, ha, now thats funny) and sharing a laugh at the jokes that come naturally (for all of the smartass's of the world, that's me and one day it even would be Rapunzel).
Now a days I stuff my hands away when ever she passes by her eyes barely lingering on me while mine glare right into her being the obligatory psychotic jackass she now knows me as and the one that I never planned on not being but all I have do is keep my hands hidden away from my Rapunzel and her locks of gold.
My heart (that's rumored to be the size of a pea and black as the night) got a little bit colder the day she (my so called Rapunzel) came to her personal hell with no more golden locks that used to tremble down her back.
It was almost all chopped (scissor marks all around it's rough and chilling edges) off and with it every bit of innocence was finally gone and so was Veronica Mars, my no-more Rapunzel.
"What the hell are you looking at?"
The moment she caught my graze (not filled with the right amount of hate that I had always supplied her with) her many defensive (brick) walls that she was always covered in these days, came out with a bang as her rough bite came snarling at me.
"Nothing, now did someone forget to take their happy pill today?"
As she went (walls hiding her from the world and most of all me) all you could hear was 'jackass pill' and then I waswatching her back as she dared to turn her heel and walk away (something I had never have done in this life and I plan on doing the same in the next).
The hate that was burning bright inside of me seemed to die away (the hate that came with the new me, the me without Lilly and Veronica) as I asked myself 'who the hell are you? Your not the Veronica mars I remember, little miss Rapunzel all golden locks and baby blues soft as the sky, she's gone, what did you do with her?'
It seemed that these questions (that I would never emit to thinking of them or that I called her Rapunzel, oh she would get me for that if she knew and trust me she'll never know) would go unanswered as my face went back to glaring holes in the one who I hate (love at this time was just a word that died with Lilly and hate was the only thing that seemed the clearest), Veronica Mars.