She hated being asked to describe herself.
Why do they care?
She never saw a point in sharing her point of view.
Their description is all they will care about.
She thought that she was funny and friendly.
Everyone else thought that she was easily looked over.
She was constantly called boring.
She started to believe them.
She knew she was bland.
She knew that was a problem.
The color red is exciting. Maybe I'll add that to my skin.
Patterns covered her flesh and purpley reddish scars.
She thought that it would make her less boring.
It only worked for a while.
Adrenaline rushes are exciting, not boring.
That is what she thought as she jumped.

If I was anything but a human, I would be a green line. Not because I like the color green, which I do, but because green lines show that sentences are incomplete. I wouldn’t want to be a red line, because red shows that a word is wrong or incorrect. I don’t think I am incorrect, just incomplete. Do you know what I am talking about? I am talking about the thin, green, zigzag line that pops up under your sentences when you are typing an essay late at night. You want to make sure that your essay is good, even if it was written at 2:17 in the morning, so you right click it and see the words “Fragment (consider revising).” If the atmosphere around us decided to right click on me, it would also say that. There are usually suggestions for fragments and word replacements for misspelled words. Sometimes, there is autocorrect and it fixes your fragments or incorrect words for you. If the atmosphere right clicked me, there wouldn’t be any suggestions. The solution would be unknown to the world, but I know the solution. I know I am young and I know that the majority of adults would tell me that I don’t know what I want. If I don’t know what I want, why do I have to pick my career right now? Why do I have to decide what I am going to do the rest of my life, but I can’t decide who I am going to do it with? Why is love such a hard concept for adults to understand? The love I have for this boy is the same love they have for their husbands and wives. Sure, I don’t know what the future holds, but just because they have crossed over the portal to the “real world” as adults doesn’t mean they know it either. I am getting off topic, the solution. I know the solution. I know the magical thing that eliminates the green line from my life. It is him. He completes me. I know that sounds cliché, but for the first time in my life, I am okay with that. I used to make fun of people living in cliché scenarios, because I thought that there was no point. I looked at love as a set up for failure and pain. I never wanted to get close enough. My internal walls were the only complete thing about me, but now, it’s him. He is the completion of me. My sentence is usually short, incomplete. That is when I am alone. When I am with him, my sentence is complete. When I am with him.
4/7/2014
Les
Green Line

Typing. Watch clicking. Eyes moving. Hearts beating. Lungs breathing. Minds thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Thoughts. Thoughts of people. Thoughts of places. Thoughts of pasts. Thoughts of futures. Futures. Future. Are you in my future? You. You. Your eyes. Your brown eyes. Your brown eyes looking into mine. What are you seeing? What are you thinking? Thinking. Thoughts. I have thoughts. Thoughts of you. Thoughts of your hands moving. Moving towards mine. Hands interlocking with mine. Feeling. Feeling you. Feeling you near me. Feeling hearts beating. Feeling your lungs breathing. Hearing our watches clicking. And I am still typing. We are always thinking. What are you thinking? I’m thinking of you. You.
4/5/2014
Les
Thinking