Savannah's Thoughts

[vannah121thoughts]

“I looked down at my fingers as he talked, picking at my nails. I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t feel sorry for him. ‘Your father was an idiot,’ I whispered.

Zeffren’s eyes were hard. ‘My father was the bravest man I knew.’

Still, my eyes wandered the hall, the drapes, the silvery vases and their droopy flowers. ‘A man can be both brave and stupid.’ Zeffren scoffed, but my heart pounded. ‘You should have been a sailor, should still be a sailor.’”

Athene and Zeffren from my story

[vannah121thoughts]

I watched him, mesmerized. Almost translucent, his veins shimmered under his skin. Sometimes I thought I made Vyn up. Just a figment of my imagination, a beautiful deception played on me by my own brain. But he would do things like hold my hand, or make me laugh and I realized that I didn’t have enough good in me to procure such a treasure as Vyn.

Vyn from my story

[vannah121thoughts]

Truly, if she wasn’t a killer. If she hadn’t murdered people of my race, and wasn’t so grotesque, she would’ve been the most beautiful person I had ever met. With full lips and upturned, grey eyes, I’m sure men have swooned over the sight of her. Her dark hair waved down to her chest contrasting with her rosy cheeks. My heart ached. I sincerely wished she was beautiful.

Fantasy novel I’m writing

[vannah121thoughts]

When I think of Night Elves, I think of dark haired demons, I think of people so ruthless, they relish in the craft of death. In my head and in my dreams, they made the Darkened One. They made this essence so essentially dark that light is swallowed up in its presence as if light itself had never existed. And even though I know that can’t possibly be true, The Darkened One hurts them too and no one knows where it came from, I can’t help but match their hair, their eyes, their cruel expressions to its absence of light.

But as I walk through their kingdom, I see the cottages, the flowers, the candles hidden in their house as a lazy, peaceful light. A few elves sit outside, staring at the stars, walking around to ease the stress of the mind. But the elf that really sticks out to me is a boy, not too much younger than me. He was laying on the roof of his home, his feet dangling off the side. I couldn’t see his face or his expressions, but I didn’t have to. I could hear his cries. Not small, unfair cries. But large, body-wracking sobs. But that wasn’t the part that hit me the most. It was the way I could hear him trying to stop them, breathing irregular in hopes that no sound would escape. Swallowing tears between his hands, I grieved for him. For his loss. My heart hurt for what caused that boy so much pain. And that’s when I stopped. In the middle of the street of the Night Kingdom, because I had just felt the pain of my enemy. No more. I kept walking.

Fantasy novel I’m writing

[vannah121thoughts]

I glanced towards the Night Prince and physically flinched. Oh, he was beautiful, that was a given. But every place that he was alluring, he was sharp. He was enchanting and monstrous at the same time.

Fantasy novel I’m writing

[vannah121thoughts]

I was a phoenix, flames were my feathers. Orange eyes, I flew over an army. A dark, deadly army. My anger poured out of me in a bright red, melting the soldiers. The screams were horrific. I was crying embers, scorching the earth black. It was devouring them, and I liked it. I spread my wings so wide until I became the suns, the moons. I became the sky, the atmosphere, the air in their lungs. A sea of flames, I burned them all. Death, death, death. So much death. That’s all there was. Until we were choking it up and spitting it out like a bad apple. My grin was seething.

The fantasy novel I’m writing

[vannah121thoughts]

I’m tired of giving my all to humans who only know how to break me.

[vannah121thoughts]

I thought of the rules I had written in my notebook the day before. It wasn’t working right now, I thought. But it has too. 1. Don’t give him attention. I looked to my right. There he sat, brown eyes towards the board. I felt the clench in my stomach. Look away, I told myself. So I did. The more I focus on him, the harder I fall. But he was so beautiful. A beauty that had never hit me before. A beauty that caused my lungs to stall. A beauty that turned my mind inside out. It was a beauty of both physical and mental. Shut down the thought, girl. I needed to let go of his beauty. 2. Don’t think about him. But this was the hardest one. “Dawn,” it was him. The sound of my name on his lips made me want to melt. Not melt, Dawn. Don’t melt. “Dawn.” Screw number 1. I faced him, my heart burning. “Yes?” He threw a piece of paper at my face, causing a smile to blossom on my mouth and a laugh to bubble out of him. I loved it when he laughed. He would throw his head back and close his eyes. But I made myself look back towards the board, made myself wipe the smile off my face, made myself focus on the task at hand. You can never have him, my mind whispered. But I want him so bad, my heart cried. My body was at war, but although my mind and heart seemed to be enemies, they agreed on one thing. I needed to get over this boy. I reached into my bag for my notebook. I needed to see the list, I needed to see the words. Feel the determination I had when the ink went into the paper. 3. Focus on other dreams. Other dreams. When I was in his presence, all I could think was, what other dreams? But that had to change. I have dreams of a future. Of traveling and changing lives. And I wasn’t going to let one love change that. My heart wanted to build a life with this boy, but my mind said that life continues on without him. He hasn’t noticed me acting different. And that alone affected me. He doesn’t care, Dawn. He doesn’t care. 4. Don’t care about him. I don’t want to spend my life with someone who doesn’t care for me, who doesn’t put in the effort. But this boy, the one who sits next to me in Geometry everyday, the one with the bright, brown eyes and who always carries a smile. The one I have shared dark thoughts with, and who seems to know just what to say. The one who always throws things at me during class and causes me to be distracted, whose laugh could cause flowers to bloom, I want him to be that guy. I want him to be that guy so bad. I want him to care about me. I want him to put in the effort. I want him to feel the same way back. Because my emotions for him are so vast, I feel like I swallowed the world. But that’s when I look at number 5. The one I believe some days, and others, don’t. 5. You deserve better. Some days I look at him and think the opposite. I don’t deserve him. He’s so captivating. But then on the good days, I realize, Dawn, you deserve better. You deserve someone who’s going to put in the time, who is going to make you a priority. Someone who would risk it all. But he’s not. He’s not, Dawn. You are. You freaking are. And you don’t deserve to risk it all on someone who’s not risking anything. You deserve better. I close the notebook.

I deserve a better love.

[vannah121thoughts]

When I was young, I used to look out the window of the car and try to see the farthest part of the sky. I would tell myself that that part of the sky I was looking at was over Italy or China or Australia. It was lovely to think that, although I was in North Carolina, I could see the skies of places so far away. It made me feel like I was there, seeing the same weather and view of the sky they were. I guess even from a young age, I had the urge to travel, to see. It’s rooted somewhere deep inside me, the desire to experience what the world has to offer. And despite the fact young Savannah was off and this isn’t possible, I still find myself doing it. I’ll look at the blue sky above me and wonder if they see that same blue in California. Wonder if there is a young child in the world around me, who quite like me, is dreaming of the skies of places they have never seen before. What a whimsical thought.

[vannah121thoughts]

"He will love you for you," she said. "No matter your faults, your flaws, your failures. He won't be able to get enough of you. You will become his everything." And she looked at me. And it was like she knew. She knew that even though nothing had happened yet. Even though the future was still to be determined, she just knew. "I love my boyfriend," she told me, her eyes bright. "My father makes fun of his nose. Says it looks funny. But I love his nose." A small smile touched her lips. "Yes, I can see other guys, attractive guys. And I know they're attractive. But when I look at him, he's the most good looking boy I've ever seen. And that's what it'll be like for him when he looks at you."

Advice from a lovely friend of mine

[vannah121thoughts]

'But he isn't yours,' I tell myself.

He isn't yours

[vannah121thoughts]

I think often times, elders and adults forget the feeling of what being a teenager is like. So do let me explain. For me, being a teenager is powerful and overwhelming. Specifically in the emotional department. My feelings fester inside of me. I feel myself bubbling to the brim, until I think I might explode. Being a teenager is absolute madness. There's no control on how you feel. And to give examples, being a teenager is like pressing the gas to the floor inside of a sports car. It's like the sound of music being so loud, when you can't even hear your thoughts. It's the burn in your throat after screaming for hours. The feel of a teenager is claustrophobic, except it's in your mind and inside your body. When you feel like there's not enough space under all this flesh for yourself. It's consuming, literally. The feel of a teenager is big, too big. Too much.

[vannah121thoughts]

I want to text him at 2am. I want to grab his arm, and run forever. I want to run my fingers through his hair. To tell him to say my name one more time, because I like the sound of it on his lips.

But just friends don't do that

[vannah121thoughts]

I keep being told to follow my heart, to go for it. What do I have to lose? And to that I say, I have myself to lose. I have myself to lose.

I don't want to lose myself, but I don't want to lose you either

[vannah121thoughts]

I find that I am a person who is easily forgotten. Just when you think you mean something to someone, they forget. And that's my problem. I never forget. I never forget people. They forget me. So what must I do to make these people that I never forget, not forget me? What must I do to make my image burn so brightly in their mind, that the possibility of forgetting me is absolutely absurd?

What must I do to not be forgotten by those that always forget?

[vannah121thoughts]

I screamed over you again. It was different this time. The first time, it was for you. The first time you asked me to. But this time, it was all me. It was me wailing. Me moaning. Alone in a car. At night. Far away. Tears bleached to my skin. A throb behind my eyes. My fingers so white, they began to go numb. I’ve never grieved in such a way. I’ve never broke so harshly. And maybe that was when I realized what breaking actually was, when I didn’t know if I would ever stop moaning. I kept stomping, kept shaking, moving, because I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t be still. And this didn’t just happen once. This happened multiple times. When pieces of me were scattered all across my driver seat of my old Isuzu Rodeo, so many shards that I couldn’t even begin to pick them all back up. I was just left there, broken and bleeding.

[vannah121thoughts]

It’s easier to hide in the shadows than walk beyond them.