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If they find out, they'll leave.
So, I keep it to myself. I keep all my writing—the poems, the stories, the journal entries—to myself.
Fan fiction is fine, but anything personal—that's mine.
I write things from my heart all the time. Words get caught in my throat and I spill my guts on the page. It's like that expression. How do you write? It's easy. You just cut yourself and bleed on the page.
Only there's nothing in the expression about guarding your sc
ars with your life.
Writing in my journal makes me feel at peace.
Writing, period, makes me feel at peace.
It's my favorite thing in the world.
But I'm not brave or foolish enough to share it with anyone.
That means it's staying a hobby.
That means it's staying mine.
I fall back on my bed. It's still covered in my Little Mermaid bedspread. I've had it since I was a kid. Emma's addiction to Disney movies is contagious. I love all the Disney princesses too. Every one of them.
But there's something special about Ariel. She knows exactly what she wants. She's fascinated by the human world. Even though it's strange and foreign, she wants to be a part of it. And she's willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. Even give up her family. Her home. Her voice.
I want to be that bold.
That sure of myself.
But here—my journal—is the only place I can really hear my voice.
I bring my pen to the page and I let all the ugly thoughts in my head flow through my pen.
I want to show this to someone.
No, not to someone.
To him.
But there's too much risk. He might run in the other direction.
One day, I'll be brave enough to open my heart.
I close my journal and trace the Latin saying scribbled over the back.
Serva Me, Servabo Te.
Save me and I'll save you.
I want that. One day.
But it's as much of a fairy tale as The Little Mermaid.
Chapter Seven
Kaylee
