The stories the boys tell in the coatroom, they’re not true. You lean against the schoolyard fence alone with your eyes closed as if no one was watching, as if no one could see you standing there, Cheryl. What do you think about when you close your eyes like that? And why do you always have to go straight home after school? You become a different Cheryl. You pull your skirt straight, you rub the blue paint off your eyelids. You don’t laugh, Cheryl. You look at your feet and walk fast to the house you can’t come out from.

Cheryl, do you sometimes wish you didn’t have to go home? Do you wish your feet would one day keep walking and take you far away from Palmdale, far away and maybe your feet would stop in front of a house, a nice one with flowers and big windows and steps for you to climb up two by two upstairs to where a room is waiting for you. And if you opened the little window latch and gave it a shove, the windows would swing open, all the sky would come in. There’d be no nosy neighbors watching, no motorcycles and cars, no sheets and towels and laundry. Only trees and more trees and plenty of blue sky. And you could laugh, Cheryl. You could go to sleep and wake up and never have to think who likes you and who doesn’t like you. You could close your eyes and you wouldn’t have to worry what people said because you never belonged here anyway and nobody could make you feel sad and nobody would think you’re strange because you like to dream and dream. And no one could yell at you if they saw you out in the dark leaning against a car, leaning against somebody without someone thinking you are bad, without somebody saying it is wrong, without the whole world waiting for you to make a mistake when all you wanted, all you wanted, Cheryl, was to love and to love and to love and to love, and no one could call that crazy.

- Except from Sandra Cisneros' The House on Mango Street

Ah, stupid men, unreasonable
In blaming women's nature,
Oblivious that your acts incite
The very faults you censure.
If, of unparalleled desire,
At her disdain you batter
With provocations of the flesh,
What should her virtue matter?
No woman your esteem can earn,
Though cautious and mistrustful;
You call her cruel, if denied,
And if accepted, lustful.

- Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz

"7 days without prayer makes one weak."
"Those who throw dirt at others are losing ground."

... Hi! My name is Cheryl and I'm a 18-year-old Christian who is madly in love with a talking car affectionately known as Kitt. And despite the fact that I'd never consider dating a girl, I genuinely enjoy slash! So bring on the lemony goodness!!! XD