How can I (aka moi) possibly relate to a story of undelighted–oops!–unrequited love? But perhaps you can. Please give the girl a little encouragement. Tell her, remember love’s a game. And if you want it, it can always come again… So…don’t let the sun catch you catch you cryin’ (I like that) And by all means, leave advice about love and literature in the comment box.
Speaking of love, life and literature, once you have provided Kayla a little southern comfort, go to Theresa Ann’s blog Let’s Make A Scene! and leave a comment or two about any of the obnoxious/whine-ee/or noble characters starting to surface in her interactive stage play. Pick a favorite and put some money down on the ongoing horse race to see who is gonna get ahead, who is gonna get even, and who is gonna get just what they deserve!
And, as always, invite your friends into the playground by pimping for us on Facebook and the twit thing.
In the meantime, here is
by Kayla Roth
“Dear Blue Eyes,
I love you. Will you love me, too?”
With her shoes resting on the grass beside her, Rebecca sat scribbling away in her notebook. It was a childish love letter, written and rewritten but always addressed to the same boy down the hall.
“If only it was as easy to speak to people as it is to write to them,” she wrote, “then maybe I wouldn’t be so afraid.”
She glanced up, and saw him, Blue Eyes looking seamless as he strolled across the grounds. Her heart beat faster and the grip on her pen grew stronger. But in his hand was another, belonging to a tall blonde in a blue sundress. They kissed, and Rebecca felt her chest cave.
She looked down, face burning. Rebecca couldn’t let him see. Her hand tore out the page of confessions from her notebook. “You didn’t write that,” she mumbled, as she tossed it into the nearby trash can. “You didn’t write that at all.”