Yes, I understand that going through all the journals stacked in my closet and publishing anything remotely decent is not an acceptable way to make up for my overwhelming loserishness in not updating/appearing at all. Won't stop me from trying, though.

I don't really know what the deal with this one is... Just something I found while leafing through an old journal. Introspective Rose, I guess. Anyway, I'll shut up now. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Do I act like I want to own Twilight?


Her parents built walls of glass around her. To protect her, they'd said, from the horrors of the outside world. To cage her, she thinks, from the wonders a lady should never know.

Royce built her walls of lies. To save her, he claimed, from the covetous glances of others. To keep her, she now knows, for his own, to be his beautiful and exotic pet bird.

Vera lived inside walls of dreams. Rosalie should have known that she could never shelter inside them.

Each murder bought her walls of hope. They kept out the bad memories, brought false promises of a fresh start.

Edward showed her walls of hatred, of envy. He showed her the ugliness of rejection, the cold stone of the knowledge of one's own inability to be loved, and she thanked him for it. It was something she'd needed to see.

Carlisle gave her walls of stability, something to depend on. She was awed that anything could be that solid.

And Emmett? Emmett didn't build her walls. He brought her bricks, handed her the stones he knew she would need to build her own walls. He had to do it subtly, because they both knew she wouldn't admit to needing help. But he taught her how to dig the foundation, how to lay the bricks. He knew she needed to be the one to create her own final set of walls: The ones of love.

Rosalie was going to build herself walls of blood. She wanted to lose herself in each killing, to feel only the sweet rush of the hunt. She wanted no remorse, nothing human. She wanted to give in and build walls to keep herself there, to let her nature take over and leave her past behind in a twisted bloodbath of misdirected anger and tearful revenge.

But then she looked into Emmett's earnest, smiling face, and at the stone he held. And she put down the bloodstained brick.

Yes, it was long past time for Rosalie Hale to start building her own walls.