I love him
I love him with everything in me, he is beautiful, he is sweet, he treats me the way i should be treated, my mama loves him my daddy respects him.
He is good, he is kind
And he has given me everything, and he is my everything
I Alexandria Marie Russo am in complete and utter love with Nicholas Jerry Jonas
And our story unfolds in the way most do, with a begging a middle and an end, but unlike other stories, ours goes on forever.
I met him in an unlikely manor on a cold, wet day in New York, i was making my way down town to a rather intimidating building on the other side of the walk, it stood tall as if to declare that it meant something, i dreaded this place, it was a waste of my time, and everyone knew it, i wasn't going anywhere in life. I jogged up the stone steps my long black locks bouncing in the wind, i reached the top and walked inside, i was already two periods late, right on time. The teacher at the front desk glared at me, as usual, and pushed open the door. She scolded me for my ever so present habit of being tardy.
"Miss. Russo, you ought to come on time once in a while, you may actually learn something" she sighed, watching me sign the late pass, again
"I'm sorry Mrs. Defranco , i just ran a little late, again" I fake smiled and held a convincing hint of apology in my voice
"Of course" she tapped her figures impatiently
I made my way, ever so slowly to my dark blue locker, the hinges creaked as i opened it shoving my black shoulder bag into the back, with an assortment of other things, i might add, old issues of Elle and Rolling Stone, soda bottles and other candy rappers littered the bottom, hair and makeup supplies cluttered the top and in the small unimportant black shelf at the top sat my books for class. I pulled some out and walked slowly to the classroom where i would once again, be late. Pulling of my long black trench and placing it on the chair I seated myself in it's wooden hold. Mrs. Madina didn't so much as look at me from above her desk cluttered with papers written by students into the yearly hours of night, hyped up on coffee and a want, no a need to do better, to succeed.
Succeed
Oh how i hated that word. Because everytime i had a conversation with anyone my whole life they would use that word.
Perhaps it would be good if they used that word, perhaps it'd be delightful to hear that word
perhaps it may sound like the ding of bell or the cheers at the end of a race, showing that all the hard work wasn't for nothing.
But for me.
For me the word is used in a sneering manor
for me it's never used without a "you won't" or a "if you had tried better you may" before it
for me it seems like all they can do is help themselves from litterly spitting it at my face
for me it sounds as high and as loud as a slap in the face, where all you hear is the wind for a split second and then it's over, but there's a clear red stain as red and torn left on the side of a cheek on the outside and an even worse bruise on the inside.
One that always hurts because you know it's all your fault and you know that if you could ever go back and change it you would.
But people don't change.