I remember everything.

 

Twilight

 

The cross was there. The rosary hung loosely on the bedpost. There really is

nothing more to be said.

The nights were dark. The words were always mine and never taken freely.

Money never was my object, never my gain.

It was always mine.

She was never white.

Edit: I do not understand these changes. Sometimes, I wonder what was the point

of them. Yes, it is that sad. I am trying to understand these people. I have never

managed to.

They say that 21 is the biggest white wash in Hollywood history. I disagree.

She was never indecisive.

That was not the story.

He, either one, were never even options. It had always been and will be still,

perhaps, Death and Education.

The smile: Did you know that was actually encountered second?

The light at the end of the tunnel.

Sometimes it is quite strange looking back on all this now.

It was never hard to say. And the people who listened once, I always thought they

understood.

Perhaps they never did?

Twilight is the name of a young girl in the Academy. It is also the name of a time of

night.

That will never matter now.

 

Nymph

 

It was a response to Lolita.

Twilight sleeps with a History teacher. She has no self-esteem. She has no real

friends.

She has an unhealthy obsession with a boy named Sev who goes by the name ‘Sex’.

She often demands for others to call her this too.

 

My Green Notebook

 

It was a homework assignment for AP English class. I was a student at Hoosac

School (a boarding school in upstate New York) in 2005.

Someone offered a girl a ring.

The girl got sick often but she was not actually unwell.

In the winter of 2004 my heater broke. My room was 120 degrees F for many

months.

Winter in New York, you see, begins in Late October/Early November.

That was my senior year of high school.

It shouldn’t have been.

I was told not to whine or complain about it. I was still young for my grade at 16.

However, I know myself. I was not okay.

I had been given many options by many places to finish high school on a fast track.

And now I was 16 with a heater so hot I passed out if I stayed in my room for

longer than five minutes at a time.

But my dorm parent did not care and grounded me so that I could not leave my

room for long periods of time.

She refused to fix the heater and when the radiator burned my arms severely she

lied and said my injuries were self-inflicted.

I went to see the nurse who agreed they were from the broken radiator but

refused to treat them.

I had been fasting this whole time hoping to find an answer to a question I do not

remember.

I stared at a corner and everything seemed to connect.

I never got to apply to college that year.

I took the SATs then but that score has long since disappeared and probably for

good reason. I was delirious and had open wounds on my wrists.

My burns were in an unfortunate position. I had experienced suicidal moments

before and written to a joe samaritan email address given to me by someone in

Haileybury.

They never wrote back.

When I was in Haileybury, Harry Potter broke into the school at night during the

first day of break in search of alcohol. (Among other things).

That year: 2003/2004, WB did not have permission or access to the school.

They only were allowed to audio record the Dining Hall noise. But even that they

were excessive with. They ‘banned’ me from it for being too loud, noticeable, and

having a thick accent.

This was funny because my accent has never been thick.

If this is the only way to write this all down then so be it.

Jo has stolen from me many times.

SM is ‘sado-masochist’.

I always thought people would call her out, that someone down the line would for

what she did.

No one ever did.

And why did I expect it?

Because I was young enough (in both cases) for it to be okay that I was not

self-sufficient.

I was a child.

I think it could be labeled child labor though it has no similarities to true human

rights cases.

Many people from before and up to 2005 know about this.

Many never cared.

Sometimes I wonder how they found my room in Haileybury.

In 2005 I was 16, had graduated from home school, had been to more schools than

the years I had been alive, written stories for as long as I could remember, and I

was done trying to understand why it would never be okay.

 

‘This is not a love story.’

 

I ran around the streets of New York City demanding to know why.

I shouted often that this (my life) was not a love story and for everyone to look

away.

No one ever listened.

Everything I said and did was mine.

I told them not to steal from me, everything was and still is my intellectual

property, my creations.

Hollywood bullshit is extremely funny.

Do you know how many there are?

Would a normal person steal from a teenager? Let alone one with open wounds

and no food in her stomach?

Apparently yes.

One story was a gift for my baby brother.

It was a joke about Catholicism.

There was a reason that the girl had blue eyes. It is sad that you will never really

get any of these things. Her blue eyes were scary and they were quite obvious.

I am sick of you sad people. The people who stole from me are disturbing but so

are the ones who know all of this and never said anything. The ones who still don’t

say anything and read stolen works, knowing where they came from.

Why are they okay with this? Why is this fine?

I thought this could be funny.

I was very wrong.

They are not the only ones or the only stories/things stolen from me.

One took my silver chain.

Do you know how disturbing they are?

They would probably claim (if I had some way of confronting them) that they never

stole and were simply ‘inspired’ by me. And that this ‘inspiration’ was what caused

them to recreate my ideas in some form.

I am sorry but that is not okay.

You may be ‘inspired’ but that does not mean you can steal concepts from anyone

and claim ‘inspiration’ as your reason.

For example, I was going to write a fanfiction in the Harry Potter universe about

the next generation. (No, I still never liked the story or any of its derivatives. But I

learned at an early age what people were most likely to read).

And here’s the fact people: You cannot take concepts, or character profiles, or

descriptions, or anything else from even fanfiction. Even if the person has written

their idea in your universe you cannot touch it. (Even though you do and probably

always will).

Everyone holds rights to their original ideas. Once written those concepts, etc.

belong to that writer.

And yet we are all growing up, no, growing old in the time of professional liars.

Cheats who have made history with their ill-gotten monetary gains who will never

stop stealing. These people no matter how rich or acknowledged they become still

refuse to come up with an original idea. They will not write their own thoughts no

matter how many others’ dreams they destroy. No matter how many smiles they

break they will not stop.

And all those readers who started with Harry Potter smiling and saying they did

not care that it was fine as long as they got their movie. You have grown too. All of

you have graduated to something much more dreadful. You have turned

exceptionally blind eyes to those who would steal from friends. And you have

learned to shrug it off and say ‘no, that isn’t really stolen. ideas aren’t actually

anyone’s right to own. you cannot steal ideas or titles.’

So here I am now. And this is all I have left to say on this matter:

They were mine and yes I had a right to them and still do.

That was theft.

I was a child.

It was not my fault. I did all I could. No one could expect anything more.

I have spent many years and will spend many more trying to understand this.

I still write. They stole from me last summer.

They are my ideas and my concepts no matter how silly or trite any of them seem.

They have ruined literature for me.

They have ruined dreams.

They have ruined thinking.

They have ruined my childhood.

And I don’t mean to blame you. No matter how rotten all of you were.

I know you were children then too.

And I am sorry the world will never make much sense to us- who remember it as it

happened.

We can ask or think about it a million times and more.

That will never change what happened or that we are called crazy or delusional if

we bring them up.

So yeah Hollywood. Laugh it up.

Your faces are what saves you. But the big joke is that we never looked up to you.

I know I never will.

And I am an adult now and you have ruined the world.

You still do.

You will never stop will you?

You really don’t understand or maybe you do.

You are the cruel person. I was not.

Why should I let you steal?

Because that is what your fans always say- the ones I know.

‘Let her’ They cry.

But I don’t. I am sorry I am not a follower.

I think for myself.

So I tried to stop you. And it never worked.

And I am done. No more stealing from me.

And this is too funny. Because how am I supposed to ever get through this?

Those things were so important to me.

I wasn’t done. I am still not.

I own those ideas. They are my intellectual property (IP) but you have no fear of

the law.

You do not care.

You are all insane.

Or too sane.

You are not real people.

So have fun. You don’t know how to dream or think for yourself. So go away

already. You already have my thoughts and ideas.

And I will write anyways and yeah I never cared about being liked or read like that.

So maybe you were right to steal from me. I was not going to ever get published

anyways.

And yeah that argument makes no sense.

But it probably just made perfect sense to you.

And that is fine.

After all we are in an age where people worship crap writing and elevate it to a

point where the author is richer than any other writer to ever live.

And let’s just state the facts already:

No she cannot write.

No that is not YA literature.

Yes you are all dumb because of that. You have read crap for longer than you

probably should.

And here’s the final joke.

Not Maya but Maia. Because I was trying to make a point about good people. Not a

mean point. She was cool and most likely still is.

I had fallen off the wagon that day and was sick of this bullshit.

Because yeah it was always obvious to me.

No more secrets.

I walked to Ralph’s in Westwood upset and trying to buy vodka. This was two

summers ago.

And I saw the Commander in Chief there at the checkout line.

And I am not sure if I shouted about it but I did make a scene about Pakistan.

And a joke about Oscar movies and demanded drunkenly for him to use my

character.

I first insisted on the name Bridget but later on Maia.

He didn’t even say ‘Thank You’.

And you probably think I am insane when I simply am not.

So have fun with your lives and your dreams.

Those were my secrets of California hell.

And they are the truth.

Nothing more and nothing less.

And just so you know-

You all fooled me many times. Shame on you.

You will never fool me again.

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