Lets make one thing clear, this Is not a romance novel! I've always hated them, and how they never really do tell you the truth. It doesn't matter what the critics claim, the story line will always be that same stupid cliché where everything leads up to the perfect ending. " the perfect guy will always find the perfect girl, " they'd said, " you're perfect someone was out there somewhere! " they'd said. Can we stop with the false hope crap and get back to reality? The fact that I was schizophrenic was real. The fact that my dad Jake had always been a terrible father to me was real. The fact that no guy but my gay best friend Luis would ever consider coming near me because of my diagnosis was real. As blunt as this sounds its just how reality works.
I used to believe. When my mom told me her stories before I'd fall asleep at night. With every painted detail in every passing year I'd hear the longing in her voice. She wanted the prince charming from her fairytailes. She wanted the elegant dresses, the glass slippers, the happy endings for us both. She wanted everything that Jake wasn't to her, but was stolen away before she could even work for it. I stopped believing in the fairytales the day she died. I don't plan on falling in love, ever. Aunt Catherine thinks I'm being to dramatic but I know the truth. I don't want to struggle in agony like my mom did, I don't want to live a life based on a fantasy. I don't want to wake up through every painful hour of a day regretting the places I could've gone, the dreams I could've accomplished but never did because of one bad decision. My mom had loved someone, my aunt had said as much, she'd loved him with such a passion that it broke her on the inside when she found out the true scumbag he was. He'd led her into a trap, and after she was engulfed in it she couldn't break free of the harsh Cocoon's walls to spread her beautiful multi colored wings. No one had known her like I had or Aunt Catherine had, and now that she was gone I made myself a promise. Aunt Catherine had always said, "the one good thing that had come out of that nightmare was me, and I planned to live up to that. This could never be a romance novel, because I could never fall in love. I , Kaylon West, refuse to fall in love, because I want to spread my wings.
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They Called Her Hoodie Girl, He Called Her His
Teen FictionLove had never been eighteen year old kaylon West's thing. With an alcoholic father, a dead mother, and a diagnosis of schizophrenia, its hard to believe that a word like that is anything but a distant dream. The only things she had faith in were he...
