The words strung themselves like wires across my spine, cold and metallic. Connected themselves at the base of my mind, at the back of my eyes. And all I can see is the freckles dotted across her nose; all I can think about is the degree of the curve in her smile. And if her eyes were open or closed as her mother held her head in her lap. If her blood was on her mother’s dress. How far away her heart was lying still in the chamber of her chest. The steel torn and crumpled around her. All I can think of is how tiny her hands must have been. Were they still sweet with the rose petals she’d left?

        And I’m standing there shaking in front of my bedroom door with my hand on the doorknob, my knuckles are white, did she have freckles on her hands, those tiny hands, those hands that clutched those petals so tightly before she let them flutter down? One hand on the door handle, one hand with a silver wing pressed tightly into the palm.  Pressed so hard it might leave the fossil of an angel imprinted into it. Did she believe in God? Did she pray every night? Did she need to? The wing is hot in one hand, a good luck charm to wish away fear on, to wish away ghosts on, the doorknob is hot in the other, and my knuckles are white. So convinced that on that other side of that door stands this little girl, her freckles scattered like stars, constellations cast upon the space of her skin. I almost press my mouth against the crack in the doorframe, to whisper, to kiss? I wonder if her eyes are closed, was she sleeping in the back of that limousine? I wonder if her eyes are open, did her mother think to close them, were her fingers just wound in her daughter’s hair, the grief a hurricane crashing waves upon her heart’s shores? And I shake and shiver and listen in front of the door. Is she standing there in her flowergirl dress, is her hair tangled from her mother’s fingers, is she holding rose petals in those tiny fists? Waiting, breathing, is her mouth pressed up against the crack in the doorframe, are we breathing each other in?

        I step back, I pace, I switch the little charm from hand to hand, I press the warm metal against my mouth, it’s the closest I can get to praying. Is she matching her footsteps with mine? All I can see is her mother sitting in the middle of the highway clutching her baby’s head in her lap, her baby’s heart lying still in the chamber of her baby’s chest however many feet away. Her mother in her best dress sitting amongst all the wreckage, combing her baby’s hair with her fingers. It’s all I can see, I close my eyes, her mother too busy combing to close her little girl’s eyes, I open my eyes, it’s all I can see, she’s looking at me through the crack in the doorframe. My head is hot and sick with the images of them, they burn in my throat and I spit out mumbles and whispers and whimpers. I press the wingtip against my tongue, I wish I knew how to pray, I wish I believed in God, for her sake. I hope she believed in God, for my sake.

        The strings strapped along my spine shiver and thrum, the music settling itself into my bones, my head is hot and sick the with images of them, my heart is dizzy with the whirlwind of her mother’s grief. My muscles work before my brain, the door is open. I peer into the darkness of the hallway with my eyes focusing on the faint outlines of her pretty flowergirl dress, is it fear or hope I’m seeing it with? But it’s just the ghosts of my head not the ghosts of anyone’s memory. My mouth is cotton, my lungs are capsized boats. My blood flashflooding through my fingertips & my lips.

        And all I can see is my reflection in the window, all I can feel is her twirling in her flowergirl dress, all I can feel are the ghost of sadness and memory in my heart, tossing flower petals into the air and watching them falling down. We stand there together in the dark, two fireflies flickering their lights, looking to lose their loneliness together, twirling and dancing in their prettiest dresses. Fireflies flickering their lights amongst all those floating petals.

• crazy long busride to NYC with my friends
• watched across the universe, beautiful. everyone out of our group bitched about it the whole way, so when their precious twilight came on i immediately started shouting "whats going on? i dont get it! why is that guy sparkling? CHANGE IT!". needless to say the bus wasn't too happy with me for like five minutes.
• somehow i can be really obnoxious and still have people like me, its weird.
• jack looked fucking good. spent the part of the ride after lunch sulking and looking out the window and listening to brand new. hate that i cant get over him.
• was mostky unimpressed with NYC
• the bronx were ridiculously depressing
• i sat with jenny most of the way, we bonded. had a bubblegum blowing competition. she had busted and mcfly on her ipod!
• times square was gorgeous, but felt like a miniature version of itself.
• "just as i can love you only in hour increments, i can only take the city past a certain hour and blood alcohol content"
• molly rose callahan <3
• walked way too much for 4 inch heels.
• acting workshop, was horrible, didnt know that was part of the deal. STUTTER. STEPPING OVER LINES. gross. made a fool of myself.
• seminar with the girl who plays christines best friend or some minor role, uninteresting.
• was more focused on jack sitting behind me. awkward smiles and laughter. SDFLSJDF.
• planet hollywood was ridiculous.
• donated money to some program to help the homeless: "you're the first one in the group to have donated, and probably the last, godbless." by some cigarette smoking roughing talking black guy with a strong accent. was strangely touched.
• ALMOST DIED WHEN TOM TWEETED ME W/E W/E. it was because i was next to the deathstar used in return of the jedi- WHAT A GEEK <3
• phantom was brilliant. THE SETS. (sorry, tech crew, spent half the time figuring out how they did stuff). THE VOCALS.  the guy who played raoul- ryan silverman or something?- GORGEOUS. the phantoms voice was absolutely breathtaking, wasn't too fond of christine though.
• the line for the ladies room was so long during intermission by the time jenny katelynn and i got out act ii had started...WE WERE MID AISLE, MID SECTION. we were so scared to go! i eventually had to be the brave one haha. its ridiculous how much ive come out of my shell.
• HOOOOOOOOOOMETIME.
• slept until the reststop listening to mcfly. had jenny buy me fanta, WHAT A SWEETIE. love her. then sat in the very back with my senior peeps, being obnoxiously loud to piss off the sophomores/juniors who were doing that before the stop when WE were trying to sleep. they're not good at tasting their own medicine yo.
• katelynn kept trying to be witty to this really catty junior julie, but she was kind of being stupid. for some reason i was super bitchy and sarcastic, it was so funny. somehow everyone still liked me, I DONT GET IT.
• LEGIT HOME TIME. made stuffing, played harvest moon.
• went to bed at 530 am tuesday, slept until 230 am friday. HOLY SHIT. thought i had swine flu haha. had at the symptoms (still do actually...AHH. ) ahah.
• skipped out on limo to boston for joes party :(
• CANNOT STOP TWITTERING/PLAYING HARVEST MOON MY GOD.
• skipped brandons party cos its my moms birthday today. she is an utter bitch, dear god. BUT MY NEPHEW IS SOO ADORABLE <3
• aaaaaand talked to amanda, just hung up COS SHE WASNT RESPONDING
• sometimes my friends are cool. i love mcfly foreveeeeeeeeeeer.

WILL UPDATE SOON, THINGS TO DISCUSS.

MOST IMPORTANT THOUGH, WILL NEVER BE SAD AGAIN. BECAUSE I AM DORKY AND PATHETIC BUT TOMMCFLY TWEETED ME AND OMG THE SMILE ALMOST BROKE MY FACE.

Pete Wentz who?