Never has there been anything else that could remind me so much of my past.
It was like my journal - one I don't remember keeping. It triggered the feelings I had-so I thought- safely locked up at the very depth of my soul. Burning up in tears as the words echoed in my head as I continued to read on word by word. Stopping now and then only to let it sink in and expose me even more. Drip, drip, drip. The sound the liquid made as it hit the rough brown pages of my pain. But although the pain was unbearable nothing could pull me away. I was obsessed, addicted, intrigued, eager to find out what would happen next. Like my history would have a different ending to it if I kept on. I was wishing, no, praying for the impossible. The ending came and I finally realized this was not my fairy tale. It had a happy ending. I felt a sudden rush of anger churning in my stomach, my body was beating myself up. "I guess I deserved that,"I sighed.
"I should have known better than to have fed my emotions with such hope." My Romeo was never coming back, that much of my future I was certain of. Jealousy welled up in me as I read those three simple words Edward said to Bella. Blinking away the tears, I shut the book and shoved it to the depths of my bed, hoping to avoid the further sniffing and sobbing. Besides what good will that do. I killed the lamp and shut my eyes. "Goodnight..." the voice whispered almost sorry for my pain, but I knew that was only my subconscious self playing with my mind.
For I knew what truth lied in the saying "fairy tales don't exist".
