Wild:

Want to know what I like about you?

....

How about what I dislike about you?

....


I can't answer those questions, my love. I don't know you. You don't know me, and I don't know you, and what a pair we'll make when you are brave enough to look at me.

I always want to know you, all of you. Good part of your life, bad part of your life, I want to know you. I want to wake up next to you because we stayed up all night talking or watching bad tv, I want to sit next to you at dinner while you rant about your day.

I say, 'I care about you,' and your eyes call me an intruder, your eyes call me creepy.

But I'm not.


I'm a warrior.

I draw my sword against your pain every day, and will until the day I die.

Wild:

Slept near a little Fox last night
creepy guy watched my every move
it's his birthday today
and we're having carrot cake

I'm drawing up plans and giggling
and oh, people think I'm nuts
they can fuck off, because I am nuts--

and it is really, really none of their business.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfuUIKWyt2w&feature=related
 

Wild:

I went to a play tonight.

It wasn't very good, but I could sense and feel the effort
the love behind it
and it still was abysmal
I wanted to fucking hit that woman's face
and her prissy daughter,
so unlike the nice children in my house

kill.

Channeling, if you know what that means,
Channeling so much emotion--they knew Schultz was there, they knew it, don't ask me how--
anger, sadness, regret, so many things
and I was overwhelmed
and anger coiled in me like a snake
and no one noticed.

And we went to the pinecone
Schultz, Conner, Katie L, Katie G, John Collins, Rachel Braun, April Schultz
and we sat there and ranted
and we talked and God, I missed them, I missed everyone
I was so unsteady from their hearts, so overcome by just being able to talk to someone--

I only talk to two people in the world.
Do you have any idea what that's like?
Two people answer my voice when it sounds.

And we left, and I was holding the Fox for Schultz
as everyone hugged one another, loved one another, too-tight good-byes;
and Katie--Leona--said; "You'll have to give that back, you know, you can't hoard him"
and I said, "shh. maybe she won't notice."

And Schultz turned to us with questioning eyebrows--they've been talking about me, I realize, I can see it in their faces--and Katie said, "She's hoarding the Fox."

I had not been hugged.

Not too closely, because things I do have a tendency to be taken the wrong way, but I hugged her and she hugged me and it was all I could do to not cry.

I held out the fox with a last kiss on his little orange ears, gingerly (yes it's a pun hahaha) to Schultz and said my softest, "Goodbye," my human goodbye, the one I was feeling right then--

Because I'll never be a Rose again. That was it. This week I lost everything; my love, my home-stage, my friends, my seniors, my crown, my powers, all--

and she didn't take him from me.

She said, "Keep him for me?" And without objecting, my eyes screamed the tears I wasn't crying and I clung to him like it was air and I were suffocating....

Oh, like I were.

I am suffocating. Everybody knows it, why not tell?

And Katie, gently; "He needs a new outfit. Something for Summer."

Schultz, "A raincoat maybe."

I would make him a wardrobe if I had the time. That's what I'm doing tomorrow; so help me God.

I said nothing. I held him close to me, and Schultz kept going with questions she meant to be gentle and kindly:
"You'll take good care of him?" I huddle to the little porcelain fox, shaking--not from cold--hoping they don't all forget me again, because I couldn't bare that, not now, not right now, please God not again, and nod. "And feed him often. And keep in touch, update me?" On the plans. For his outfit.

Another nod, the weakest smile I can give.

And Katie laughed and ran with the people she missed too and I wish she had stayed with me because alone was like an ache in the set wall that fell and I was so empty.

God, I'd lost it all. I'd lost everything except for a blind devotion from a man who refuses to see any flaw in me, however minimal; who I will make happy always because what else can I do? Who am I to deny someone's happiness?

I don't have the will to walk away like she did; I just don't.

And I got in the car and I hugged him to me and Finley--sweet, oblivious, devoted Finley--was talking to me about this and that and I burst into tears.

Shock on his face. Shit. Had he done something wrong?

"Oh Pay, Baby," he said, and I felt sick and nuzzled my Fox, my Fox, the Fox who wasn't leaving--the Fox in my bed now--"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't want them to go," I sobbed, huge sobs, all the sobs I'd not shed over Katie and the Roses and losing my Crown and the Tumblr that changed its name to "long live the moon" in case I come back and the Poem I wrote but couldn't post--all of it--I sobbed it then; "They go and they forget me they forget to answer me and I don't care but I feel it--God, Finley, I felt it all--I channeled all night just like Jazz Di Pasta and I wanted to kill that fucking woman and I couldn't--I just couldn't--" I stop for a breath; a first pause as I weep, "Please just take me home I don't want to be alone just take me anywhere and Katie," I sob, "Kept looking at me like she were expecting me to stare and I miss them and they forget me and I talk to two people--two people--and now I'm losing one and Schultz was so heartbroken and I'm dying, I'm dying Finley I'm dying I can't watch this happen and I'll be whatever they want me to be--I'll say whatever they want me to say--I would've stood out there all night I don't care how cold it was and I don't want them to go," I finish, sobbing so hard my shoulders shake, tears onto his little porcelain face;

nuzzling against him like this were the Golden Compass and he were my Daemon, like I'd never let him go.

I kept repeating those things in different ways but I was angry now and anger overcame me from those people and when it left me I felt sick, and empty, and sad and hurt and all I want is Katie, all I want is Schultz or Hannah Nathan to be here with me. I want someone who understands how I feel, who can make me feel human.

I felt Finley,  then.

I'm supposed to tell you, non-real people, that I'm not always right when I "feel" people, that they aren't books to be read, that I'm human.

That's true.

I felt Finley, then.

And he was sad and I set myself aside--human Payton had no need for pettiness, no need for scrumptious emotional scandal--and I said, in a completely normal voice, "I'm going to bed now." He blinks twice.

"You're all right?" He asks, sheepish at tears like the best of men are.

"Perfectly fine," I purred. "Just a little distraught. I apologize; it won't happen again."

I'm "Flawless" and he believes me and when I let down my hair in the mirror?

I had Alex Kingston curls. Real, honest-to-goodness Alex Kingston curls on my head from the knot I had had on my head.

Jesus God, they are beautiful--

But there's no one here to see it except for my Fox.


Finley promises he'll talk me to Schultz, that I'll see her soon, that surely she will not forget me, that surely she cares, like she were a talisman.

Wrong, Finley. I have the talisman here, covered in my silly girl tears. My poor James; how silly you must think me.



I want to see her anyway, but she has a life. I get it. I let her go, I promised that I would and I have--just like Katie.


But God, my Finley--my little "Tony"--how I wish that it were someone who understood me, now, that I was with instead......









My
beautiful
hair....

Wild: I'll miss being a Queen

Oh, and I'm curling my hair.

http://www.thetotaleffectltd.com/sites/default/files/Total_Effect_Hair_Salon_Salem_Perms.jpg

This type of perm would suit me, I think?

Wild:

How I handle my heart is not your concern, nor his
but mine, and mine alone

I will not have you two rescue me,
rather, leave me in my torment
I will spin and fight and spit and snarl
I will rule and be just and lose you
in my human life

and I will never ask for you again.


You understand me? I hear you.

I empty you from my heart,
I free you from me now.

Do not say I am disillusioned by desire
that I do not know your heart:

I set it free.

Run.

Run now, run quickly
run until you don't look back.









To me, it's over now.

To me, you're free.
































Now run. 

Wild: Don't mind me. Just being invisible.

"I worry about my friend now that I have one. I suppose that's a natural thing.... Katie and I ate dinner together, too.  She told me about Kate and alcohol, and I listened. I did my best to be myself and make her a little happier, and the more I think about it, the more I talk about success.

Katie had joked several times throughout the evening that I was her ''rentable wife''. As we got into that charming red car of hers, I said the trouble was with rentable wives was that when you didn't need them, you stopped hiring. Katie told me that she'd always remember I helped her..."

Katie keeps her promises.

""You've been really unhappy lately," he said, his eyes glistening, "Especially after you go to play practice. Payton... no matter what you tell me or how you try and laugh it off, these people... they treat you awfully." I open my mouth, he cuts me off. "No, let me talk now, okay? Out of the cast members, people... they treat you badly. They really do. You go in smiling, laughing, blowing me kisses, hugging your script.. and you come out sad, and lonely, and feeling like a monster again. Even I can't make you happy... and there's not a lot I can't make you happy after, Payton. Not a lot."

This time, I do answer.

"I understand Beatrice," I said quietly, "people... people don't like her. They... tolerate her. She's... crazy. I know what it is like to be treated as... to feel... crazy. I was cast like her because I understand her." "

Finley doesn't understand Beatrice, never will; that makes me happy, if nervous. If he hasn't then he might someday. Please, God, let that not happen--especially not because of me.

"Mr. Noll put a ban on rhetorical question openers for our essays, so I will use one here.

Have you ever been simultaneously run over by a bear claw, showered with poisoned needles, drowned in a pool, and had everyone laugh at you while it happened? ... That fits, I remind myself. That's what we want, for my character. The old woman that nobody likes, who doesn't understand what real life is like, who confuses guests with the Avon lady, who doesn't get out much... who the adults politely tolerate. ... She's lying. 

"You know, Payton, you're really intense." "


""Payton, just tell me what's wrong? You're not bubbly or happy or... you. Instead, you're... like... emo and quiet." I don't have people remain focus on me... but this is Katie, I remind myself, and the tears come as we reach the bridge edge; this is my friend..."

" http://www.health.com/health/static/hw/media/medical/hw/h9991451_001.jpg

Here's a diagram. Simple, isn't it? Plunger, cap, needle, barrel. Four parts. Save your life. In fact, when I was a little girl, they gave me a teddy bear. Charlie, (Or Charleena, depending on whether or not your particular bear had a skirt) had bright colored patches all over him.  Elbow, buttock, legs, arms, stomach....

The bear was always, always happy when he had remembered to give himself an ''insulin injection''. The bear didn't cry. The bear didn't struggle. The bear didn't hide. His facial expression didn't even change.

I did all of those things.

What else would a little girl do? Mom answers people who ask with saying, "The next time you look at your little girl, imagine her saying, 'Mommy, please don't hurt me. Mommy, please don't hurt me anymore.' "

But hey... I could have cancer...."

""No, my love. You need us." Devlin had helped me from the shore, and as I stood, my dress turned into a material made of water; translucent and flowing. My curly hair touched his hand as he continued. "You see, you're turning into a human, Payton. Sorcha--" he indicated his sister with a swift movement of his head "--desires you to stop that transformation. She says that without magic, you will die, will be remade."

"And so she shall be," says Sorcha evenly, "you have been a being of power with the magic you see and embrace, day by day, the magic God has given you. You walk filled with love among humans, but since you have stopped to feel that love more carefully, have shared it with others, I fear it will wither in light of your envy and ambition."

"Envy and ambition lacking is a rare enough thing in itself, for faerie or mortal, my lady," replied Devlin. "Surely you can see that?"

"Can't I be both, Sorcha?" I whispered.

"I don't know," she replied, perfect eyes staring into my soul. "Can you?" "

I'll continue this later.


Maybe. I'm a flake, after all.

Wild:

I went through some blogs today
from when my life was fine
and realized it was because there weren't
Roses, trauma, Love, lust, power,
not even myself.

It was fine because there was
nothing
because all I had was
two people
and I was okay with that.

Now I look back and think
is that fine?

But oh, oh

what I would give
to have that back
and be that way again...

Wild: Drawing my Sword

So I was thinking about things today, and I realized I was lonely, so I texted Hannah and she told me she was at rehearsal. The play, which is ‘You can’t take it With you’, is wildly unpopular with the Schultz Elitists. Rumors have abounded. The director is weighed down by her kid, she can’t read; no one knows their lines, the set is crap, blahblahblah. I also heard a lot of ‘That’s what they get for abandoning her’ and I knew they meant Schultz.

Pause.

Let me just say: This pissed me off. People like that always have, in fact, so, to avoid names, let’s go with--err--Elitists.

Elitists (a term I intend to keep from here on out) are people for whom it is Schultz or nothing. People who are favored or found the level of understanding, who were early enough to claim a piece of her poor and wild heart. Those people abandoned this new play without even thinking about it.

I don’t think those people are fair, but we will come to this idea later.

Loving Schultz isn’t the question. Even if we don’t know her favorite color (Purple?) or why she’s so amused by silly young people (protection and a natural goodness?), it doesn’t mean we can’t love that. People might be ignorant enough to dim it down to comfort.

That is, the idea that she comforts, protects us so we “have” to love her. People make those accusations, empty-hearted people in this empty-hearted town.

Those people are perfectly right: She does protect. She does comfort.

But that isn’t why we love her.

We love her because we look at her and we see hope. Oh, if you asked her, that would not be why. She’s the first person who found us, the first person who threw our wishes into the well, the first person who we run to when our hearts our broken; because this is an angry town and she’s tolerant.

I don’t think she gets that the more she denies that she is good and decent and kind and rare, the more we are convinced she is. Maybe she does get it. Maybe she’s doing it to fish for compliments.

Guess what? I don’t give a shit if she is fishing for compliments! If she is then she deserves each and every one and I will murder violently anyone who is not ready to ‘handle’ her, you stupid, stupid city with your stupid, stupid people!

Call me young! Call me a “young” reaction! Call it cute!

It’s called Loyal, you assholes. It’s called ‘I value what she taught me enough to live it’, and I’m never, ever going to stop trying.

For those people--people who loved the roles she gave them or the drama--well, whatever. It’s your heart to break. For the ones of us who really cared, who really wanted what she had to offer us--that has never, for me, no matter how hard I try, been the easiest to say--abandoning this play is twice as wrong.

Because she deserves a life, too.

Look what happened. She went after her dream and, okay, maybe it isn’t going well and she might have some heartbreak and adjusting issues. So will you when you get a new life, because I’m a college student and I have a new life and I miss the old one sometimes.

But the things that hurt me in that old life would be right there when I got back, no matter how grateful I was for the fucked-up time vortex that put me back where I was (aside, perhaps, from Sedition).

But her new life will be good when she can let herself make it good, if that makes sense. Schultz won’t be able to get over the gnawing ache she has from missing us if we cling to her like weights tied to somebody’s bootstraps.

She has to be able to move on from us, and we have to be able to understand that (while what we’ve done will always live with us, always hold our heads a little higher) holding her to us--just because we love her and wish things were they way they had been--is wrong.

Those people--the Elitists--are driving me insane today. I intend to offer my help to this new… creature. Even if I hear things are horrible, even if for whatever reason Schultz isn’t helping, even if actors don’t know their lines; I want to help.

My home might be besieged, and I might never step foot on a stage again. After all, you need to be pretty for that; you need more than to be able to enact a Queen or offer your heart to anyone. You need to be able to lift your head, and I--After Ryan, after what happened with the Roses, after Finley--I just can’t right now. No matter how pretty my voice is; no matter how fast my eyes can change.

That doesn’t mean I can’t help.

Unlike these silly Elitists, people who don’t care enough to get to know Schultz as she really is (and not whatever idea is in our heads), I do care. I’ve always cared, from the minute I stepped on that stage freshman year and laughed for the first time in three weeks.

(No, really. Three weeks. I used to keep track.)

Because I don’t think it was just Schultz who gave me that laugh. It’s the people, too; it’s the Theater idea itself. I might not have a Degree in it like Schultz, but any stage is better than none, is home, and this--this I understand.

That is to say, I understand the idea of companionship and learning from what we feel and showing what we want to the world. I also know it can’t be done alone, and I won’t leave the kids in that play (the people who were there with me when I belonged) alone. Period.

This kind of idea--not just Schultz, not just the people I loved so much--is empty without help, without hands, without Love.

So yes, I offer help. I let Schultz go to live her new life and hope that somewhere, even if it’s just a tiny piece, I have a piece of it.

After all, my new Director, this is, above all, a reminder.

A reminder, a reminder from a single, wild-hearted girl--the loyal one--this serves a purpose, these words you’ll never see. I give them with a warning: that you cannot take it with you.