(( Thank High-Fructose Corn Syrup and all things that have God in them [What an interesting statement...] I don't own Twilight. Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Her New Moon premiere dress looked like it came from a Hot Topic Regect Bin. You know this to be true. At least she did something with her hair, though. ))
The Constitution states that humans have an unalienable right to seek happiness, inversely stating that I have an unalienable right to be miserable when happiness eludes me. Happiness, of course, is Edward Cullen. The one person in this place who I am willing to know does not wish to know me. Out of desperation I have managed to conclude that I do not smell good to him, ( I will be replacing my strawberry shampoo shortly,) and that I must do everything in my power to smell pleasant for him.
Charlie and I might as well be incommunicado for all the good that our communicado is doing for us. While he would be willing to hear about my "boy problems", he would be of no help.
With unaustere and averse authority, he sends me to school each day, and would be resilient in this despite my significant issues concerning Edward. His smooth, seemingly translucent skin, pale as snow. His golden eyes that seem to contain the cosmos. Steely, brooding gazes that make the macrobiotic lunch in my stomach turn. His breathtaking fingernails, bronze hair, carefully carved face. Describing him is no tedious task. My heart jumps every time I think that I will see him tomorrow. My memory does him no justice. All my memory creates is a wistful shadow of the magnificence of him. Tomorrow, I will see him again.
That is all I would ever need to know.