Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.

A sonnet for English [and now, I'm thinking in iambs]:

The Remnants of Romance

We saw, we met, we laughed, we sang along
with inhabitions keeping us in line
we got closer and we did nothing wrong
it wasn't long until I called him mine.
But through the smiles and all the gentle touch
a lover's quarrel, a heart being defied
Despite what he said, neither were enough
The honest truth: To both of us he lied.

Through tears with which our eyes would always fill,
one year has nearly come and gone again
apologize: Perhaps one day he will,
it took a long time for our hearts to mend.
Most of my naietivete is gone,
what, in his mind, could truly have gone on?

Yes, I realize it's kind of terrible.  At the same time, though... With nostalgia and all, it was good to let out.

Love, StarFish.

Birthdays.

The last fourty four minutes of being fourteen.

Fourteen brought me...insanity.  Last year on my birthday, I danced with Voldemort.  We had a big thing going on then.  Later, I had my first kiss while fourteen.  My first breakup, my first heartbreak.

I've gained so many amazing friends, and lost a few as well.  I'd like to regain a couple of those.  One in particular.

I've loved so much, I've cried so much.  I've laughed, I've frowned, I've smiled and danced and fell and got on my feet again and again.

I broke my first bone.

So here's to fourteen.

And here's to fifteen!!

So, so, so much love,
Laura.