"I wish I had died before I ever loved anyone but her." - Hemingway

~
 
calendar
 
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may 15th - APUSH exam
 
may 21st - boyfriend's/best friends' graduation
 
june 3rd - chemistry final
 
june 4th - apush & ap english final
 
june 5th - creative writing jury & french II final
 
june 6th - math final & journalism jury
/ LAST DAY OF JUNIOR YEAR
 
june 12-16? - greece/italy
 

I cannot wait for summer!
 
I shall make it very productive
and pride over my summer homework
and read all the books I've wanted to read
and finally get my driver's license!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and start on my college essays and write a TON
 
I'm going to grow my hair even longer and re-do my blonde ombre and take a bunch of photos and ah
 
Please do hurry...
 
The seniors already left school
and it's very sad and empty now
 
- alex

soundtrack: YA HEY / vampire weekend
 
downloaded the new album
and i’m crying SO GOOD
 
(not really)
 
Good luck to anyone taking AP exams!
 
{MMN}
 
Inspired by the lovely @emgeemtee
READ HER STORY FIRST !
and everyone else’s too
 
basically
 
also a huge happy birthday to @lalasparkles !!!
of course I’m late :\ But I honestly made a set for you
using the Poly app and it got deleted apparently????
 
Anyway I hope it was great :] You really deserve it girl!
I’ll read your new story this weekend ;D
 
Guys, this is really long and I’m sorry.
 
But it’s ~”important”~
 
~
 
April 22nd, 2013:
 

My hair was long again and it stuck to the back of my neck in the warm, sticky air.
I couldn’t believe it was spring again, almost summer.
 
As I walked along Verona’s pathways in my coat,
I realized it was no longer time for winter attire
and it saddened me a bit;
 
I had missed my favorite season in the city.
 
Now the trees around me were beginning to blossom.
 
I had to familiar myself with the boys playing Frisbee on the green lawns,
the girls in their pretty designer sundresses and sunglasses, and the bright sun.
 
I needed to buy a sundress…
 
"PRINCESS? IS THAT REALLY YOU?
AT /SCHOOL/?"
 
I had gotten many sarcastic remarks on my presence on campus
ever since I arrived, but Nate Carters always had to make an ass out of himself.
 
"Hey! Slow down, Cripple."
 
I quit my hopping and pulled my crutches from under my arms
and turned to smile at Nate.
 
I've always had trouble frowning at him.
He was the only familiar face around.
 
Sure, I only came to make sure I was caught up on all my term work and to prepare to take finals - and to take the finals and leave once again - but every inch of campus lacked a pretty Upper East Sider, an old flame, an old friend. It made me awfully nostalgic.
 
Then Nate came, shooting out of the sky, and he stayed by my side.
 
It was as if it were high school all over again and we were tripping over ourselves,
laughing at nothing. Secretly I was desperate for a friend and for company. I was dependent.
 
"Have you talked to Matt yet?"
 
I frowned.
 

Nate wasn't the only one by my side lately.
 
He and Matt were always together,
so I started seeing him too.
 
So when Nate wasn't around,
and Connor wasn't either,
it was just...us.
 
And it led to steamy make-out sessions,
insane gro*ping, and my favorite -
 
"God, if you weren't in a cast I'd fu*ck you right now,"
said on the subway at 3 in the morning, last week.
 
But the butterflies seemed to migrate somewhere warmer
and the feeling went sour when we somehow ended up talking
about Ashley and her new guy, and Rivera, and his sadness…
 
Matt called me pathetic for sticking up for him -
my good old friend, my good, good old flame -
and I told him to leave. And my favorite part,
 
"And tell the sl*ut I said hi!"
"Whatever, crazy person."
 
We haven't talked since.
 
Neither have Ash and I after a dinner gone wrong last night.
Ever since what she did to Alex, I couldn't take her seriously.
 
It was as if she broke his heart and my trust.
 
She said, "It has nothing to do with you!
Not everything does!" and my favorite,
"It's not like you didn't do the same,
and he did the same, again and again."
 
That's when I left the restaurant, hobbling and all,
all the way to Nate’s place where he answered
with a grumble, his head poking out the door:
 
“Um, you can’t come in right now…
I have…company…sorry, babe.”
 
I was dependent.
 

“No, I haven’t talked to Matt.”
 
Nate nodded. “Sorry about last night. I didn’t know she wanted to go home with me.”
 
I smirked. “It’s fine…” but nothing really was these days.
I was quiet, looking around campus, and Nate raised an eyebrow.
 
“Who are you looking for? Elena?”
 
My eyes went wide. “No.”
 
“I never really see her around. I don’t really see anyone around.
Can you believe this school year’s almost over?”
 
His words sent a wave of anxiety through my body.
 
“No. I can’t,” I sighed. “We’ll be college sophomores…
I swear, the days fly by now. I just can’t…”
 
I couldn’t find the words to finish.
 
He nodded. “How’s the treatment going?”
 
I watched his eyes fall to the pocket of my shorts where,
tucked in carefully so that my shirt was supposed to cover it,
was a pack of Marbolo cigarettes. I pulled my shirt down, smiled.
 
“Fine. Thank you for asking.”
 
“You’re smoking again?”
 
“Dr. Diver said it’s fine,” I shrugged.
“He said he was keeping the ‘OK’ from me just so I wouldn’t.”
 
I smiled again but Nate was frowning.
 
“That’s so /bad/ for you—“
 
“Smoking weed isn’t?”
 
“That’s different,” he said seriously. “And no—“
 
“/Nate/—“
 
“Whatever,” he shook his head. “Sorry for caring.”
 
I felt a pang in my chest when I realized his words
seemed to mimic what the Riveras had told me last night.
 
To make that ever so true, Nate muttered,
“You still didn’t tell me how you /really/ got that cast.”
 
I blushed.
 
It had taken me multiple sessions with Dr. Diver to finally convince him
that my cliff jumping incident really was an /accident/ and not an act of “mania”
or a sui*cide attempt that my medication could have triggered. It was only boredom.
 
“I wanted to feel in control of myself,” I confided to Dr. Diver.
“With this medication, it’s difficult. But I wanted to jump, so I did.”
 
I tried to tell Nate the same and added,
 
“The medication I’m on takes away a thrill I used to get in doing things
that I don’t even have the energy to do anymore. I wanted to feel it again.”
 
Nate looked at me for a while before speaking again.
 

This look was full of worry and disbelief and I realized
it was much like the look Alex gave me last night,
except the look Alex gave me affected me differently.
 
I wasn’t able to look at Alex because I was afraid I’d burst into tears as if I disappointed him,
or even worse, as if I were incomplete without him.
I could take neither of those.
 

“Alright, alright,” Nate wrapped his arm around me
and together we continued walking. He held my crutches
and I leaned on him, attempting to walk without getting stared at.
“Enough of the tough stuff. Want to come over the frat house tonight?”
 
“Why?”
 
He was smiling mischievously.
 
Nate could never really smirk—he just does this boyish grin
and you know he’s up to something, exactly like when he was a child.
 
“I’m having a little get-together. I want you to meet someone.”
 
“Oh?”
 
“Wait,” he stopped to pull me over to the side of the pavement,
into the grass where we stepped over a tiny new patch of yellow flowers.
“You’re not…seeing someone are you? I mean I heard a lot about you and Alex—“
 
“I thought you said no more tough stuff,” I said quickly.
 
My heart was racing and my palms went wet—
but that was silly, it was only hot out,
extremely hot for April...
 
He held his hands up. “Alright, alright,”
he smiled again and repeated,
“No more tough stuff.”
 

That night at Nate’s, I was feeling stupid wearing a tight dress—
it was not too formal, the right amount of casual—
and my bulky, ugly white cast.
 
I suddenly regretted having a whole bunch of Monegasque children sign it
because it was rainbow and full of large, messy, uneven handwriting.
Then I felt terrible for thinking that and ached for Monaco,
and my father, and the feeling of tranquility and solace.
 
With this horrible feeling, I stumbled into Verona’s fraternity house.
 
I could walk without my crutches now if I really wanted to—
it was heavy and uncomfortable, but so were the da*mn crutches.
 
After forcing myself to walk without them when I visited Elena,
I forced myself to do it a lot. As soon as I entered,
a large amount of eyes met mine. It was a party.
 
Of course.
 
I instantly regretted coming until I heard a bellowing laugh
that I immediately recognized as Nate’s. He was in the kitchen.
 
Of course.
 
Red-eyed and tearing, Nate turned from the fridge
with an arm full of junk food. When he saw me,
he dropped it all, and with his arms still out,
he embraced me tightly, nearly giggling.
 
“You came!”
 
“Some ‘little get-together’.” I muttered.
I adjusted the strap of my dress and he winked.
 
“Cute dress.”
 
“Thanks.”
 
“You think so too, Tom?”
 
Nate turned and my eyes followed to a boy in the corner
with dark hair and a very handsome face that had a bit of scruff.
 
He nodded. “Very cute.”
He smiled to reveal a perfect white set of teeth.
 
“Cam, this is my good old friend Thomas C. Harington the III,”
Nate said in a stupid, silly voice.
 
Tom extended his arm and I shook it slowly.
“You can call me that or Tom.”
 
“You look familiar,” I said softly, nearly as if I were in a trance.
 
“So do you,” he smirked.
 
It suddenly dawned on me that he was a well-known polo champion.
 

His father is currently a chairman for the United States Polo Association,
as were the men before him in the Harrington family.
 
They were ridiculously rich, ridiculously reserved and ridiculously talked about—
much like the other UES families. He and his brothers used to attend Monroe’s rival school
before they all became homeschooled. Their parents had decided they were too good for it
and simply had no time for homework; they should be riding horses and winning trophies—
 
—which is all they do now.
 
I had watched him play many times and even encountered him upstate once when I was practicing myself. He had been with his brother, who’s nowhere as good as him,
and who then challenged my horse to a race and we beat him severely.
 
Then I went home with him.
 
I didn’t remember looking twice at Tom and now he simply studied me carefully,
nodded once, lit a cigarette, and walked out of the room. Nate snorted.
 
“What do you think?”
 
“I slept with his younger brother.”
 
“Eddie?” He broke into a huge grin. “/That’s/ the polo player you told me about?”
 
I buried my face in my hands. “How /mortifying/,” I moaned.
“I was so hor*ny though, Nate. So hor*ny…”
 
“He’s a huge di*ck.” Nate was still grinning.
 
“Shut up. I know. I don’t know what I was thinking then. I don’t remember that night at all.
I woke up in the hotel room and he was gone like I had hoped.”
 
“Tom’s really chill though,” Nate nudged me. “And he’s so different from his brothers.
You should really talk to him. He thinks you’re cute.”
 
“/Cute/?” I kept my face in my hands and Nate laughed.
 
“You are cute!”
 
“Oh, God…”
 
Nate opened a bag of chips and offered me some.
 
“They’re chicken and waffle flavored,” he said.
I simply stared. With a smile, he continued.
 
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not going to even bother with Tom…”
 
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “He’s really cute. But I—“
 
“—Are thinking about someone else?”
 
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start with me.”
 
“Why don’t you tell me about that?” he whined.
He sounded like a little kid and his high wasn’t helping.
 
“It’s not important.”
 
“So it’s true.”
 
“Nate!”
 
“How could you even think about getting back together with him?”
 
“Nate…”
 
“I mean, you have a lot of history but c’mon, he forgot who you /were/—“
 
“—Like it was his fault! Nate, I swear to God if you keep talking—“
 
“—He dated Ashley!”
 
I flew out of the barstool I sat in and tripped over to the secret booze cabinet
Nate told me the “frat boys” kept and took a nice bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.
 
“I’m going to find Tom.”
 
“Good,” Nate grinned from ear-to-ear. “That’s what I thought.”
 
“Fu*ck you.”
 

/ / Tom / /
 
(flashback)
 
“Ed, pass me my helmet, will you?”
 
Eddie finished putting Lucky into her stall before throwing my stuff over.
Lucky kicked her hooves into her wooden door again and Ed cursed.
 
“It’s the fu*cking butcher for you, bi*tch,” he spit.
 
I found myself smiling although I knew I shouldn’t when he was like this;
he was angry all the time though so I smiled anyway.
 
“That’s what happens when you name ‘em something stupid like Lucky, it’s bad karma,”
I grinned. “Also no one eats horses. Unless you do? Whatever happened to the first Lucky?”
 
He opened his mouth to respond with something angry and bitter,
his face red, mouth in a line and nostrils flaring,
but a high whistle interrupted followed by,
“Your snack is over here, Pumpkin!”
 
A familiar looking orange-brown stallion whipped by the barn—
clearly the fastest thing around, even our horses seemed startled.
 
Our heads snapped to the sound of a light laugh where once again a petite brunette
was running about the acres of green, laughing and looking as if she’d been here her whole life.
 
“Hey, that Princess is back,” I tossed to Ed.
I don’t know if she was really royalty or if that was a pun to mock her.
 
For some reason Ed’s frown was gone and he was smirking.
“Of course she’s back. I slept with her last week.”
 
I raised an eyebrow. “After your argument over equestrian safety?”
 
He shrugged. “It was fun. She was really nice.
Like /really/ good too. And flexible,
and kinky, you wouldn’t even—“
 
“Stop,” I interrupted, looking away from the girl as if I wasn’t allowed to look anymore.
Now Ed’s mood was gone and he was smiling like an idiot.
 
“Are you blushing?”
 
I didn’t answer him. I blushed easily, he knows that,
but he threw my gloves at me and laughed loudly.
 
“Go talk to her! I’m sure she’ll sleep with you too.”
 
“You’re sucha di*ck,” I shook my head.
 
When I looked back out, the girl was looking over,
petting her horse’s mane with tender affection.
 
“Pumpkin is such a dumb name too,” Ed muttered.
“Why’s she suddenly interested in riding anyway?”
 
“Her family has always kept their horses here.
Her dad bets with the guys every year.”
 
Eddie was scrubbing at his equipment
and spat on the ground before saying,
 
“She’s a natural at riding. I wanted to shove her off that da*mn horse.”
 
I snickered. “This girl really gets to you. I like her.”
 
“You should. She knows positions I didn’t even know—“
 
“/Ed/! C’mon.”
 
He laughed and sprayed me with the hose before I tackled him,
and through his struggle, he managed to grumble out,
“Her…name…is…Cameron…”
 

(present)
 
/ / Cam / /
 

Tom was leaving the party, walking up the path that led out to the courtyard,
and the school’s fountain, and then the dorms and later the apartments.
 
I realized after 5 minutes that I was following him
and it was super creepy and that I should stop.
 
After realizing this I had already chugged almost half of the bottle myself.
When I seized to stalk and simply stood in place, he whirled around,
smiling and softly saying, “Don’t you want to know where I live?”
 
I felt like I was suddenly engulfed in flames.
“I’m tipsy,” escaped from my mouth without a thought.
“I don’t know why I said that,” I added. “My name’s Cam.”
 
“I know,” he was smiling again, one that seemed done without effort.
“You have a nice horse.” A silence got caught between us.
 
It was a comfortable silence. The night air was a bit chilly,
but nice enough to enjoy its breezes against my bare shoulder.
The moon’s light hit my dress and it was as if I were glowing.
 
I haven’t worn a red dress in a while.
 
“I don’t know why I said that,” he suddenly said with a chuckle.
“I meant…you have a nice face.” I smiled. “And a nice smile,” he added.
 
I was still in the flames, my face no doubt the same shade of my dress.
“Oh stop,” I giggled. “Please. It’s cheesy.”
 
“You’re right.” He looked down at my cast, the smile still on his lips,
and then he saw the vodka and the shot glasses. “Those for us?”
I nodded and he looked over his shoulder at the nearest building.
 
“My dorm’s actually there. It’s the only place they had open.
I just transferred from Yale.” He paused. “Am I talking too much?”
 
I shook my head, trying to ignore the fact
that he had attended my dream school
(before Verona existed) and smiled.
 
“What are you studying?”
 
“History major, psychology minor.”
 
“That’s a lot of work.”
 
He nodded. “Wanna head over then? You can keep your dress on.”
 
I didn’t want to. I wanted to finish the bottle and remove my cast
and taste something new. I wanted to bum a cigarette and make a friend.
 
I wanted to be somewhere strange
and forget every thought that lingered in the back of my head.
 
Every face.
Every word.
 
Every, ‘You’re not the same girl.’
 

April 26th, 2013:
 
I wasn’t planning to go to Robert’s party but I did.
 
I realized my absence from Manhattan had been quite a statement
and I was never really “back” until I appeared at a party like Samuels’.
 
So I did come, hand-in-hand with Thomas.
 
It’s only been a few days, but I guess we were “casually dating”.
 
I was almost too surprised when he told me he didn’t want to sleep with me
the night we met because he wanted to “take things slow”. I thought that was bad.
 
But maybe I was just tipsy—maybe that was good, even kind! Gentleman-like.
 
I was also surprised when he told me he was going to the party.
Rob had invited him; something I knew had to do with me
(pardon my suspicion and ever-growing ego) and I said,
 
“Oh. Are you sure? Robert’s kind of…”
 
“I know,” he assured me. It was easy for him to do that.
“But since I’m new to Verona I’ve got to get out, no?”
 
I agreed. He would definitely “get out”
to the public and to the elitists of Verona.
 
At the party, greetings came from around,
and then whispers, giggles, and a phone camera went off.
 
Or two.
 
Maybe I was paranoid.
 
I was mixing painkillers for my leg
and my daily meds and although
Dr. Diver said it was safe, fine—
 
I felt a bit loopy and lightheaded.
 
Matt was at the bar with Nate when we arrived.
Immediately Nate took Tom “under his wing”
which worried me. Tom was…good.
 

I realized almost immediately that he had the quality of someone very unaware to things around him, in the good way—he didn’t care what people said or what they said about /him/—he only cared for himself and went about his days one at a time. When we first started talking, I found myself admiring him and his go-with-the-flow attitude. I wish I were the same. But I was the opposite of that.
 
It was as if he hadn’t a problem or issue in the world,
never drama or a worry to bring him down.
 
It was as if he wasn’t an Upper East Sider.
 

Pulled out of my thoughts,
I turned from Nate and Tom
to face Matt. He looked sorry.
 
“Look—“
 
“I’m sorry,” I finished. He nodded.
I smiled. We were fine. I missed Matt.
 
From the corner of my eye,
I saw a little blonde head
disappear into the crowd.
 
My heart leaped.
“Ash?”
 
Matt turned around and back at me.
“Yeah. You just missed her.
She’s with…some guy.”
 
My mouth etched into a frown.
 
Matt looked upset at what he just said,
but I found myself upset at the fact that
Ash and I were on bad terms, once again.
 
I seemed to be doing that with everyone.
As if he read my thoughts, Matt put a hand on my shoulder.
 
“Did you guys have a fight?”
 
I nodded. Thoughts were swirling in my head and it worried me.
I turned to look for Tom but he had disappeared and a cloud of smoke
was literally floating in place where he had stood. My heart started to race.
 
I cursed myself for becoming dependent on yet another person,
another boy, even for just a second. Thoughts were swirling in my head.
 
“Have you seen Elena around?”
 
The words flew out by themselves.
I suddenly felt the heaviness in my stomach
disappear when Matt said, “Yeah. Over there with Rob.”
 
I smiled. “Thanks Matt.”
 
“Anytime.”
 
The heaviness that had been sitting in my stomach since I arrived disappeared
as I found the short-haired girl with a sloppy, perfect smile and became
completely at ease. Even if there was a devil by her side—
 
There usually was.
 
“Happy birthday, Rob,”
I told him. He nodded.
 
“Thanks for coming.”
 
He disappeared into a crowd
as Elena turned to me,
eyebrows high.
 
“That was rude of him.”
 
I shrugged. “I think he’s mad at me.
Isn’t everyone?”
 
Elle smirked a bit but I didn’t think she wanted to talk about me.
She looked around, observing, curious, and took a sip from her drink.
 
Her eyes ended up on the floor and she saw my cast and smiled.
“It’s so weird seeing you with that thing on.”
 
It felt nice hearing her talk, if that makes sense—
thoughts were swirling in my head—but with Elle,
everything always okay even if they weren’t.
 
“I never told you how much I like your blog.”
 
When I said it, Elle’s nose crinkled. “Oh.”
 
“But really,” I sighed. “I’m not just saying that.”
 
“I didn’t say you were, Cam.”
 
“I know. But I mean it. I check it a lot.” I looked down at the floor.
I don’t know why there wasn’t a drink in my hand.
 
“Thanks Cam. That means a lot.”
 
Elle was looking at a boy from across the room I realized,
someone I didn’t recognize. It suddenly frightened me
that I didn’t know a lot about Elle then, not at all.
 
It was as if I had missed too much
and I would never catch up,
me and my cast,
and new dress,
and those
whirling
thoughts
 
I couldn’t—
 
“I just want to read what you think about everything,”
I said softly. “I always want to have your opinion
and those two-cents. You know? I need that.”
 
When Elle’s eyes touched mine I felt sick.
I looked quickly through my bag, then,
for a cigarette and a lighter
and she sighed heavily,
a stick in my mouth,
 
“Cam, oh, don’t,
Alex will freak
when he gets
back—“
 
I dropped my lighter. “/Back/?”
 
She looked regretful.
“I—He’s here.”
 
Her eyes were intense then,
burning through mine.
 
I attempted to reach for the lighter
and instead sent an ache through my cast
that made me hiss. She reached to pick it up.
 
She kept it. “Cam…”
 
She didn’t finish.
She didn’t want to.
 
I knew I had to leave.
My heart was racing.
 
Thoughts were whirling in my head.
 
I don’t know why. It was strange.
But it was familiar. It wasn’t in my head.
 
No, it was in my fingertips,
my chest, my limbs,
in every breath
I took. “Elle.”
 
She nodded. “I understand. You’re running off? I’ll tell him you said hi.”
 
I felt nauseous again. The heaviness came back to me
and I had the dreadful feeling of dissatisfaction.
 
So I reached into my bag of tricks,
or rather the bag of privilege,
and I pulled on a fake smile,
one I found myself showing
Elle quite a lot lately and,
 
“Hey, I have a guest ticket for the Met Ball. It’s on the 6th of May.
Will you come with me? We can go shopping for dresses and—“
 
Elle’s face actually lit up, as if, through my smile,
she saw my true attempt at becoming part of her life again.
 
And it was true,
it was honest,
it was just…
unstable.
 
“Of course I’ll go with you.”
 

Outside, I rushed out of the building’s gold doors and out onto the street.
 
Immediately cigarette smoke hit my face and a familiar voice said,
 
“Hey there cutie, where are you going?”
 

My heart stopped. It was him.
 

I turned and Tom was smiling,
a bit high, and a bit bored, but happy.
 
I sighed in great relief.
 

Relieved of what I did not know,
because certain thoughts still whirled
in the back of my head, whispering, reiterating.
 

“Did you have fun?”
 
I couldn’t answer so I copy-and-pasted
the smile I gave Elle and delivered it
perfectly and said, “You?”
 
His laugh sent a shiver through my body
and when he said, “Half-fun. It was okay,”
I threw myself onto him. We kissed and—
 
He smelled of aftershave
and tasted of marijuana and gin.
 
He tasted like release and distraction.
 
“Come home with me,” I cooed.
I was dependent and desperate,
shoving it all out in front of me.
 
“Of course.”
 
He would and we would laugh, cry and have sex,
something so odd, out-of-place and completely okay,
and those thoughts continued whirling and badgering;
 
I shoved it all away from me.
 

May 5th, 2013:
 
We had thrown our new gowns for the Met Ball on the couch
and were attempting to make chocolate muffins.
 
Elle had finished telling me about a recent success for her blog
and I was just starting to tell her about Thomas.
 
We were happy. We were running on each other’s energy,
finishing each other’s sentences, pink and content and fine.
 
When I finished everything about Tom,
every unique detail about him and his rare self,
she mentioned a boy named Oliver— I leaned in,
ears wide open, her eyes also wide and excited, eager.
 
For those single seconds, I thought I stuffed every doubt
and insecurity away but when a set of keys were put down
on the counter followed by a jacket and a shake of hair, Rivera—
 

—Alex walked in. I don’t know what came over me.
I forgot everything. Nothing else mattered.
 
I forgot my cast. I forgot my smile.
I forgot I was holding a tray of muffins
over the fu*cking oven tray. I forgot Elle—
 
Nothing else mattered.
I was dependent again.
 
I was weak and dumb.
 
I didn’t have an oven mitt on
so when I tore my eyes from his
it was because I had a bright red burn
that looked as if it were screaming at me.
 
Elle had oven mitts on because she was Elle,
she was on top of things without even trying.
 
She caught the tray before it fell to the floor
and the look on her face, utter disappoint,
could have killed me if I were lucky.
 
“First a cast, you’re working toward lung cancer
and now you’re burning your arm off?” Alex teased.
 
I wanted to die.
 
Elle’s looks couldn’t do it because she was busy setting the oven’s temperature and cleaning up. I could only look at Alex—He had teased me but he was frowning.
I knew he heard me talking about Tom. That didn’t matter though.
 
Right?
 

Dr. Diver said I had a 10% of hallucinating on the medication I was on
and I was positive that the number could’ve been higher,
and now, I was sure of my assumption.
 
In my denim shorts and Monaco-tourism-esque shirt,
I could’ve disappeared then and there.
 

Alex left his stuff on the counter
and went to the bathroom.
 
Elle huffed. I opened my mouth and apologized.
She rolled her eyes. “For what, exactly?”
 
“Everything.”
 
“Are you really hung up on him, then?”
 
Elle looked furious. I wanted to melt,
stick my head in the oven with the muffins.
 
“Please lower your voice,” I whispered.
I had tears in my eyes, pathetic, pathetic.
 
“Cam, I thought you—I thought you were stronger than this!”
 
For some reason, that insulted me to a great degree.
I couldn’t deny what I felt anymore
but I knew I couldn’t have it.
 
It wouldn’t happen.
I wasn’t lucky, worthy
or even pretty enough!
 
I dumped the bowl of leftover batter that I had been holding
into the sink with a thud where it most likely cracked—well,
it wasn’t the first time I was breaking their da*mn kitchen ware.
 
“I’m just being the fu*cking /crazy person/ that I am, Elle,”
my eyes were stinging. I heard the bathroom door opened
and fu*ck, if I didn’t want to die right there, pathetic.
 
But that was dramatic. That was crazy.
It hit me with a fallen tear that
I just couldn’t take it—
 
I couldn’t take loving people so.
 
It always got me in trouble
and I was disappointed;
they always went away
or I always ran away.
 
The thoughts whirled,
I collected my things,
 
and Alex’s hand was on my shoulder:
“Hey—“
 
And every part of me seemed electrocuted.
 
“Elle,” I jumped around to face her in the kitchen.
She looked misplaced and awfully bothered.
If anything, only disappointed, surprised.
“I’ll meet you at the Met. Alright?”
 
She nodded.
 
Then, with a sigh,
I said, “Bye Alex,”
and he laughed—
 
I was smiling,
so odd, so right,
so sad and unfair.
 
I think I would always be insane.
 

When I got home,
I was still smiling
—drunkenly really.
 
Then I sat on my bed
and was overcome
with it all—
 
the heaviness, the love,
the thrill of Thomas,
the shrill happiness,
the real true happy
feeling I had—
 
I was home.
 
I was in Manhattan.
 
No matter the person
I was thinking of,
no matter the person
I was actually with,
 
I was where I belonged,
and these feelings washed over me
and all at once I was taken over with it
and I fell into a deep sleep. I hadn’t slept.
 
I had not slept well and full for endless days,
as Dr. Diver warned me could happen.
 

But I fell asleep,
content and full
like a baby.
 

Whatever was happening
and whatever would happen
when I would wake up—well,
I would survive it. I was strong.
 
And I could.
 

~
 
PT. I
 

May 6th, 2013:
 
I was surrounded by mirrors
when I saw myself in my new gown.
 
I truly felt beautiful and thought I would cry
but the woman that was fitting me said,
“Tighter here?” and I could only nod.
 

Moments later, three men flooded into the room.
They were dressed viciously, if there was such a thing,
in dark clothing with dark objectives and I gasped. “What—“
 
“Miss. DiVello, you need to come with us.”
 
One of the men was Anton, my personal guard back in Monaco
and I looked at him with complete bewilderment.
 
“Que’est que c’est?” I shouted at him.
 
The feeling of absolute dread fell over me
and I nearly kneeled over in my new cast,
one light and flimsy so that I felt weak,
absolutely weak and powerless and—
 
“What is it?” I demanded.
 

“He was shot,” Anton said. “Your father was shot. He’s—Cameron, he’s—“
 

The feeling of dread was set and nothing could be seen quite clear.
Everything around me was out of focus and far away.
 
The thoughts whirled around me
and they settled far back,
like everything else,
far back where
I could, alone,
sit and stare.
 

They wanted me somewhere safe.
 
I told them about the Met Ball, and my promise,
but they were blocks with solid, expressionless faces.
 
I could not move, only dragged between them like a doll.
Cameras flashed whenever we were outside.
 
Images flashed in my head and I vomited once,
right on the foot of a photographer right before the black car’s door closed.
 
“You’re not safe,” Anton told me carefully. “There is a great threat—“
 
“I need to see Elle!” I was choking on my words but to me
there was nothing more important. “I need to see her /now/.
I promised. I can’t let her down. Oh, my God, why—“
 
They gave me a water bottle and I drank my tears back.
 

They wanted me somewhere safe.
In hiding even, away.
 
I told them I only felt safe at one place.
“As long as it isn’t your home,” they said,
but it was, it was really my home. Always.
 

Outside, the cameras blinded.
 
I stumbled into the building and pressed the button in the elevator to the very top floor.
They looked suspicious and absolutely apprehensive but I knew where I was.
 
I walked in and called her name out like a lost puppy—
completely dependent and pathetic and disappointing
just like she had said, without words, but I needed her.
 
Goddammit, I needed her.
 
Posing at the Met Ball or baking chocolate muffins,
I was a wreck and I was a ball of tears and confusion.
 
“Miss, I’m almost sure this penthouse is empty,” they tried
but someone had called my name from the top of the stairs
and there he was. Everything released without trouble.
 

“C’mere, oh my God,” he whispered.
“I’m so sorry Cammie. I can’t—
I don’t know what to say…”
 
And no one did.
 
I didn’t say his name or think of anything but my father’s casket
and the warmth of Alex’s body against mine, the feeling of ease and safety,
reassurance and certainty. Nothing was clear. It wouldn’t be for awhile.
 
But the feelings washed over me, all at once, and I was taken over with it
and fell into a deep sleep. I knew, before breaking over it, that I was fine.
 
In that moment I was convinced and assured I would be okay,
because Alex told me, and I believed him. I always did.
 
I always will.
 

- xoxo, Cam.
 

 
Sounds horrible but I had been planning his murder for awhile
and I’m so glad it has finally happened
 
A lot of the rest of this wasn’t as planned
 

New character!:
 
Thomas C. Harrington / 25 / Polo Champion, new student at Verona / Adam Brody

STEP / Vampire Weekend
(also their new song, ‘Diane Young’, both very good but ‘Step’ is better eep)
 
{MMN}
 
Okay who DIDN'T look at this set and go, "Oh, Cam."
Spoiler? lol
 
I was going to wait from stories from both
@mclovinn and @emgeemtee but we're all so busy
and I probably won't publish a "real story" (a super long one) until late May...
 
Maybe?
 
So here's a short (still pretty important) story...
I think I’ll release little tidbits like this for now.
 
By little I mean (3000 or so words…and not my usual 7000)
 
I think this story puts Cam where I really want her to be right now.
(It also catches up to the date so it’s basically a filler story)
 
Dedicated to @little-red as a late birthday gift
and to @cestlula as a, yay-you’re-back-and-writing! gift
and also @lalasparkles and @laurcams94 as a,
thank-you-for-always-writing-and-inspiring gift
 
(Not that this is much of a gift)
 
But still e n j o y
 
~
 
April 15th, 2013:
 
"Nobody knows what the future holds
Said it's bad enough just getting old
Live my life, they say it's too fast
You know I love the past, 'cause I hate suspense."
 
I waited patiently for Connor.
 
I had already finished my book
and the sun had reached its highest peak.
 
I felt like a rock was sinking down into the pit of my stomach.
 
The feeling is one I thought I had forgotten
and it was almost scary having it there again.
 
I sat in my backyard looking out into the Mediterranean.
 
Slow, peaceful jazz played in the background –
Louis Armstrong’s cover of La Vie En Rose,
I think; it blended into the Monaco breeze.
 

I have a backyard now.
 

“You look so tiny,” the voice trembled.
 
I turned and saw Connor’s face.
He looked as if he matured in the months I hadn’t seen him.
 
I suddenly felt a surge of sadness for where he came from,
mostly because I wanted to be there. The city. My city.
 
I inhaled the sea air and smiled at him,
nodding to the housekeeper that let him in.
 
The feeling in my stomach began to bubble
and I was feeling warm all over —
the sun’s rays were on me,
his eyes were on me.
 
“It’s because I’m surrounded by something so big,”
I grinned, holding my arms out to the ocean around me.
 
I followed by collapsing into him,
arms around his tense body
which was always tense.
 
I almost forgot why I had been avoiding him, and everybody,
almost thinking I could be dumbed down by my medication.
 
“I missed you,” he said softly.
When he pulled away,
I looked down.
 
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I feel the same.”
 
We sat down on at the little picnic table
and I couldn’t stop smiling at him.
 
Everyone knows I tried to kill myself.
Everyone knows I ran off again.
Everyone knows I’m a failure.
 
Everyone thinks I’m getting better.
“Are you feeling better?”
 
It was as if he read my mind.
 
Looking into his bright hopeful eyes,
I could only smile and felt light-hearted.
 
I am getting better.
Not a mantra,
but a fact.
 
“Yes, actually,” I reached for my lemon water
and studied Connor over my glass. He smiled.
 
“Good,” he reached for his water and wrinkled his nose.
“Do you have…um, lemonade?”
 
I called over Mary and she rushed inside to get Connor a glass.
He seemed embarrassed by the rushed response and shook his head.
 
“I feel as if those old men locked you up out here,”
he looked out into the deep blue water and back at me.
“This giant, beach house of a hideout. You’re like Rapunzel.”
 
I shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s exactly what I need,”
I took another sip of my water. “And my hair’s not that long.”
 
Connor was nervously playing with his hands.
“It’s much longer,” He reached for a lock of my hair.
 
Mary came back and handed him a glass of lemonade with a floating flower in it.
He smiled shyly. “Don’t you get…lonely?” His eyes flickered on me.
 
I shrugged. “I keep myself busy.”
 
“I’ve heard,” he smirked. “Good weather for parachuting, huh?
And paragliding and fishing and whatever else you’ve done.”
 
I giggled.
 
“Tell me, then,” he said curiously.
 
He took a sip of his lemonade and his eyes lit up.
“This is so good.”
 
“I know,” I was smiling too much. “Tell you what?”
 
“All the stuff people are saying. Is it true?”
 
“What are they saying now?”
 
Suddenly he was frowning.
I rolled my eyes and refused to get angry.
 
“Why would you say something like that?” I mumbled.
 
Connor was suddenly studying me,
watching me fill up, waiting for the eruption.
 
I gritted my teeth. “You wanna pull out your journal?”
 
“Stop it Cam,” he set his cup down. “I’m sorry.”
 
“You don’t have to do that,” I looked down at my newly bitten nails
and continued to bite them. “You don’t have to tell me to stop. I can stop myself now.”
 
Connor leaned in to the table. His eyes bore into mine.
“Good. A lot of people believe in you, you know.”
 
I laughed, short and simple. “That’s dumb.”
 
“Do you believe in yourself?”
 
I rolled my eyes. “I have no other choice.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“I do what my medication tells me to,” I smiled to myself darkly.
“I’ve never been so submissive to authority before.”
 
Connor was leaning in closer to me now.
 
“You know who I saw the other day? Out on the street?”
 
My stomach rumbled. I sighed. “Who?”
 
“Lizzie Davis.”
 
My eyes lingered on his and I felt my lips twitching.
“And?”
 
“She asked about you,” he looked out into the ocean.
 
His chest heaved in sync with the waves crashing on shore.
 
I closed my eyes and tried to smell the breeze in Central Park that blows by often, carrying the scent of the best churros around, that one vendor with his one little cart.
 
I only smelled sea salt and damp sand.
 
Sometimes I could smell summer and fresh fruit, and coconut tanning oil.
 
But sitting in front of Connor, I only got the smell of fish and loneliness.
 
“Lizzie was hiding for what — a year? And she’s back.
You should come back. This is ridiculous, Cam.”
 
We sat in silence.
 
It suddenly dawned on me that I did not feel like a princess.
Or a queen. I felt like a prisoner. I felt lost. Connor was right.
 
“/Fu*ck/,” I whispered.
 
“What?” Connor reached for his shirt pocket and pulled out a lighter.
 
Then a cigarette, and he lit up, and I felt my eyes go wide
and he looked at me and whispered, “Fu*ck,”
and stomped it out immediately.
 
The sweet smoke hit my nose and I nearly kneeled over.
“What?”
 
“Sorry, I forgot,” he looked at me carefully.
 
“Fu*ck,” I said again. He raised an eyebrow.
 
“What?”
 
“You’re right. You’re always right.”
He just stared at me.
 
“Are you ready, then?”
 
I couldn’t reply.
 
“Do you feel…ready?”
 
I stopped chewing my nails
and looked up at him.
 
He was completely leaned in now,
not knowing that he was doing it.
His eyebrows were up high
and his kept his lips wet.
 
“Hold on,” I stood up and started walking away, quickly.
 
“Where are you going?” he called, voice carrying in the wind.
 
Fish, damp sand, salt and loneliness.
 
“I’m going to go ask my doctors,” I smirked.
 
Connor got up and started to follow me.
He was still holding his lemonade.
That stuff was really good.
 
That’s what I’d miss most.
 
“Ask them what?” he laughed.
 
“If I’m ready!”
 
The breeze blew by us as I ran across the lawn.
It was always summer here, with fresh fruit
and coconut tanning oil and the shiny sun.
 
The lemonade is not all that I would miss.
 

 
“So yeah,” I muttered. Connor offered another Oreo cookie and I took it.
We looked back out into the ocean and I shrugged.
 
“I can feel it working, but sometimes I feel…as if I’m a filler for myself.
An empty version of myself. Dr. Diver said it’s very, very normal...”
 
Connor raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that doctor in Manhattan?”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“Another reason for you to go back.”
 
The Oreo crumbled in my hand. I ate the crumbs one by one.
“There’s plenty of doctors here,” I rolled my eyes.
 
“Diver’s the best though—“
 
“Just the most expensive.”
 
“We’re in Europe, that’s not true at all,” he laughed.
“Stop doing that, you look like a bird.”
 
I threw the crumbs at him and soon sea gulls surrounded us.
I screamed, stumbling over Connor and myself as we ran away.
 
I was laughing in hysterics, soon hiccupping,
and Connor was choking over his laughter.
 
I couldn’t look at him without exploding into another fit of giggles.
I hadn’t thrown a fit with a smile on my face in awhile.
 
When we could finally breathe, I realized the sun was setting
and the pink, orange light hit Connor’s eyes and made them glisten.
 
I felt my breath get caught up in my throat
and he asked, “What?” and I released a sigh.
 
“I love you so much,” I whispered.
“I wish someone loved me like I love you, Connor.”
 
Suddenly, Connor looked horribly worried.
“What do you mean?”
 
I started catching tears from my face.
 
I haven’t cried in the longest time,
and it felt all too strange doing so.
 
“I love you!”
 
“And I love you,” he said quickly. I covered my face.
 
“Why can’t someone I can be with love me like you love me?”
 
Connor knelt down and sat on the rocks looking out to sea in thought,
eyebrows still drawn, looking as if he were writing in his head.
 
“Is that what this is about?”
 
“What?” I whimpered.
 
“What they’re saying — it’s true,” he shook his head.
 
“What!”
 
“You’re still in love with that idiot,” he grumbled.
 
My face flushed. “What are you talking about?”
 
“Rivera! You know exactly what—“
 
“So I miss Elle—so what? She was being a—“
 
“Oh, shut up,” he put his head between his legs.
I looked down at him and my knees shook.
 
“I don’t see what the problem is.”
 
“I thought you were done with Alex.”
 
“What does /Alex/ have to do with this?”
I felt his name stab me in the stomach
and I wanted to puke. Instead I cried.
 
“Don’t let him get to you!” Connor shouted.
He looked so angry. “You /chose/ not to have him!”
 
“Stop yelling at me!”
 
“Why do you do this to yourself?” His cheeks were bright pink.
“People /care/ about you, Cam! You can't just—run away—mope—“
 
I turned away from him and finished crying.
When I was done I sniffled and looked back.
 
Connor was writing in a journal that he pulled out of his ass.
 
“I wasn’t crying at all until you came.”
 
“And reminded you of reality?”
 
“Why are you so mad at me?” I said rashly.
 
“Because I care about you,” he said, closing his journal.
“I care about you, as you always ask of people,
and you’re somehow surprised about that.”
 
He took a deep breath, and with a shaking voice said,
“I was the one that found you on the ledge, Cameron.
I don’t have medications to fight away anything…”
 
I crossed my arms and shivered.
“It’s getting cold out here.”
 
The sun was nearly set and the moon was right above Connor’s head.
“What are you going to do about Alex then?”
 
I kicked a stone and huffed. “Stop saying his damn name.”
 
“Cameron—“
 
“I’m just bored, that’s all…” I drifted off.
 
“/Cam—/”
 
“He’s not mine anymore,” I cried. “And I’m just /bored/!”
 
I started climbing the rocks.
 
Connor was busy thinking
and being nosy and upset
that he didn’t really notice.
 
Then I heard his harsh shout,
“Cam, get down from there!
We’re on a fu*cking cliff!”
 
“I’m bored!” I shouted.
 
“This is not what the doctor meant by extracurricular activities, Cam,”
Connor called. “Get down from there and tell me about your polo games—
and your swimming—your tennis—Cameron! Stop it, get down goddammit!”
 
I put my hands above my head.
 
“This /is/ an extracurricular, Stan!” I grinned.
“Just like skydiving and bungee jumping…”
 
“You just want attention!”
 
“Fu*ck you!” He’s always right.
“Fu*ck you, Connor!” I was smiling.
 
“I’m coming after you—“
But I knew Connor hated heights
and he hated the beach house only /because/
it was located on a cliff, just like the palace is.
 
“I saw kids doing it just the other day,” I shouted down.
“They jumped off and into the water and swam and climbed back up—“
 
“They weren’t on this damn regal mountain!” His voice was straining now.
“Now get your royal pain in the ass down from there!”
 
I started giggling, happy that it wasn’t any medication,
or any sickness, but simply true, real entertainment.
 
But it did seem awfully crazy, didn’t it?
 
“Tell him I love him,” I called in a light, raspy voice—
like Marilyn, or Jackie, and all the women with tragedy before me.
 

And I remember my inability to scream—
only Connor’s piercing my ear before the wind did,
howling and silencing me into a forceful, gut-churning fall.
 

The impact was harsh, and rough, and the sea was colder than it had been that morning.
 
When I hit the water, I choked on a gasp, and I couldn’t feel the right side of my body down from my hip. It was as if the water were ice cold in that specific spot,
so cold that I couldn’t move it until I finally did,
and the heat rushed up to me in a howling pain.
 
When my head poked through the water I let out a horrible wail
and I thought my lower right leg were on fire. I struggled not to move it
without drowning. I knew it had popped and I could feel it—limp and aching.
 
I failed my arms and could see a tiny figure on the cliff
suddenly disappear and that’s when I started to panic.
 
Seeing the little black dots in my vision,
I knew I was going to faint,
but I struggled against it,
fought against myself,
as I had been doing
for some time.
 
I floated and flailed like an idiot, biting my lip to forget the agonizing pain,
and didn’t stop until I saw the little boat and the boy in it, shaking his head,
knowing he was right – always right. And suddenly I felt satisfied.
 

I was suffering greatly, but smiled when I saw him,
because I somehow still floated in the water there,
defeating the pain that had tried to sink me down.
 
It was awfully crazy, wasn't it?
 

April 20th, 2013:
 
"The gloves are off,
the wisdom teeth are out -
What you on about?
I feel it in my bones,
I feel it in my bones.
I'm stronger now..."
 
From: Niall
Is it true then?
 
From: Cameron
Yeah…tibia, fibula…I might as well live at the doctor’s :\
 
From: Niall
No, Tatie – the other thing
 
From: Cameron
What?
 
From: Niall
Never mind
 
- Niall has signed out -
 

“We will be landing in JFK International shortly. Please…”
 

“I really miss flying coach. Private jets can be so…stuffy.”
 
I slammed my laptop shut and closed my eyes tightly,
trying to forget what I had just read.
 
Connor reached for my peanuts and shook his head.
“Your stomach’s gonna hurt from eating all these.”
 
I frowned. “I have another itch,” I moaned.
I rubbed my cast against my other calf,
whimpering and feeling like a mutt.
 
Connor smiled, smugly, as he has done for a few days now.
“Your fault.”
 
“If you heard about my accident…” I drifted off.
 
“It wasn’t an accident.”
 
“Never mind,” I mumbled.
 
My mind kept flickering to my Skype conversation with Niall
and I suddenly did feel sick – and not from a commercial plane’s peanuts.
 
It was my first time hearing from Niall in four months.
 
I wondered why he waited so long to ask me,
and the question burned in my mind.
 
“What were you going to say?”
 
All smirks gone, Connor looked like his simple nosy-self.
 
After all, he had gotten his way with convincing me to leave Monaco.
I didn’t even blink once when we pulled away from the sparkling city.
 
Flowers and kisses and good luck wishes were given to me at the airport from the good Monegasques, and the little children filled my cast with drawings and bad handwriting.
 
It was saddening, but I believe I took all it offered me wherever I went.
 
“It’s nothing.”
 
I looked ahead at the TV in front of me,
feeling the seatbelt tight against me
as the airplane began to descend.
 

 
Connor;
 
She was quieter, in a way.
 
She talked with patience
and seemed to think before she spoke.
 
When she jumped off that damn cliff,
it was like she jumped into another stage of life—
 
She fought something alone in that city, and it was a silent,
frustrating battle that never ended, only made her stronger.
 
It was saddening, because I knew it wouldn’t end for a long time,
only grow much more easy for her, so that in the end it felt like an illusion at best.
 
She didn’t need the attention anymore because she had the convincement.
She knew who was in control: she knew who held the cure, who kept the heart.
 
Jumping into that water, she knew she’d get hurt,
she just needed to know that she could survive it.
 
“It /was/ suicidal of you,” I whispered in her ear.
 
I watched as she shut her eyelids very tight
and pressed her lips into a straight line.
 
“But you knew you’d be fine. And so did I.”
 
Her brown marbled eyes peered into mine then, and her hair tickled my cheek.
 
She brushed at her new bangs, ones she had cut in the bathroom herself again,
and burst into a wide grin. “It was fun,” she said in a muffled giggle.
 
“Until your leg was deformed, maybe,” but I couldn’t not give it to her—
she had swam with sharks, golfed with pros, even did something like
yoga on the highest hills of Monaco while the sun rose.
 
It was like the medication couldn’t do as much as the privacy and the time had.
 
The pills were just tiny Band-Aids.
She was the catalyst.
 

She was tan, happy and ready
and I looked forward to seeing
what exactly came next for her.
 

 
Cam;
 

“Oh my /God/,” Nate’s grin took up his entire face.
“I never thought I’d see you as a cripple, Cam.
This is /so/ good. Finally, some karma for all the bones you broke shoving kids down the stairs—"
 
Connor put down my bags in the trunk of Nate’s private family car
and no one laughed until Nate did.
 
It was contagious.
 
“Shut /up/, that was /once/,”
I smiled, clicking and wobbling
my way over to Nate in a heavy cast and one heel.
 
I regretted not taking a wheelchair as, for some reason, everyone expected me to do.
 
Nate ruffled my fringed bangs and looked over me with that look that sent every girl's stomach into a fit of butterflies.

I looked up at him and my heart swelled in my chest.
 
“I—“
 
“I missed you so damn much!” Nate finished,
embracing me like my dad used to.
 
I felt my eyes water and I felt awfully lame.
 
The skin under my cast no longer irritated or itched,
as if looking into Nate’s far-off, slightly blood shot eyes
were a medicine no doctor could have the ability to prescribe.
 
“I missed you too, Nate,” I pulled away and took a deep breath.
“Damn, I don’t want to break ribs though,” I shook off his heavy smell
and looked up into his smile and bright, expecting eyes. He was always happy.
 
“Wanna hobble over to my 4/20 party?
I got some wicked plans set up.”
 
Connor’s eyes washed over us two,
taking in everything with an observant,
amused, hidden smile. Nate looked back.
 

He had called me days after Connor’s article was published.
Connor had revealed a suicide attempt, an old sex tape, a burdening diagnosis.
 
Nate threatened to take Connor’s life for me but I let it be.
They were secrets, but they were the truth.
 

Later when I sat on Nate’s couch,
watching Connor slowly reach his high
with Nate and his buddies, I took his place,
observing and absorbing everything around me.
 
I grew high from the environment, feeling as if I could sink and disappear into that couch.
I was happy and felt as if I belonged, as if I were completely put together.
 
The cast around my calf wasn’t the only thing that kept me whole.
 

- xoxo, Cam
 

 
(inspiration for this story came from my own 4/20 experience
that ended with me thinking of this - Cam having not only fractured bones in her leg
but also a “realization” and an “enlightenment” if you will and if that makes sense.)
 
(it doesn’t but the thought was crazy and Cam’s pretty nuts so voilà)
 
(also I caught up on the “time” so you guys need to fill in the dates!
just remember that Cam is gone in Monaco in that gap,
literally hiding from her own feelings about THINGS
from January 25th-4/20)

www.sexydiary.tumblr.com
/ www.camerondivello.tumblr.com
 
{MMN}
 
// soundtrack //
♡ RICH KIDS BLUES / Lykke Li
♡ SADNESS IS A BLESSING / Lykke Li
♡ TEEN IDLE / Marina & The Diamonds
♡ ON TOP / The Killers
♡ ONE WAY TRIGGER / The Strokes
♡ BONES / The Killers
♡ GIVE ME LOVE / Ed Sheeran
♡ THIS / Ed Sheeran
 
http://8tracks.com/alexx/i-look-at-you-and-smile-because-i-m-fine
 
Ooh I hope this story doesn’t get too long
Lots of stuff in here though
 
Feedback appreciated :)
It’s amazing how we’re still getting stories in!
 
P.S, I dedicate this story to @laurcams94 and @lovelygabriella
because I never had time to make birthday sets!
 
And ugh, Cam is really behind on dates –
@lalasparkles & @mclovinn please note
your Ash/Aidan thing begins on 1/24 – 1/25
 
AKA, I didn’t know what Ash was really up to until then!
 
Also this is a collab with my favorite gal @emgeemtee
and also the spicy @lovelygabriella (spicy?)
 
/ / /
 
January 3rd, 2013:
 
“Sadness is a blessing
Sadness is a pearl
Sadness is my boyfriend
Oh, sadness I'm your girl…”
 
"Hey! Ease up, DiVello," Connor dodged a rocketing tennis ball
and then went to chase after it, his head bobbing up and down
and the sound of his panting heard from across the court.
 
The concrete glittered in the sun and sweat glistened on my skin.
I went to the sidelines to take a slip from my lemonade and grinned into my glass.
 
"Don't be such a pu*ssy, Stan."
 
Connor's laugh echoed throughout the palace's gardens and courtyards and endless glamour.
He jogged to my side and took a sip from my straw and smiled.
 
"I forgot how good you were at tennis."
 
"Me too," I nudged him as he picked up my bag and rackets,
my smile pompous. "Then again, I'm good at everything."
 
He chuckled once, but his smile had vanished.
 

Dr. Blanc was the best in Europe at what he did
and he scoffed at anything American, Canadian, you name it - apart from me.
 
He called me "a rare breed" and looked at me with a gleam in his eyes.
 
"So, Princess," I could feel his gaze on me as I stared out the window.
"I've decided what we're going to do with you."
 
I nodded. "That's good."
 
When he continued, the words started to blur -
only one stood out, among numbers and dosages -
 
lithium.
 
Dr. Blanc pursued his lips in thought.
 
He began flying through risks and major benefits
and how he believed the benefits outweighed the dangers.
 
Then the side effects —
 
“Acne? Weight gain? Hair loss?”
The words dropped out of my mouth like vomit
and I thought I would faint already. Dr. Blanc only laughed.
 

Later we sat in his office after tests on my thyroids and my blood
and I felt like a giant sack of potatoes. I couldn’t feel my arms.
 
"Now, another important step in your recovery is psychotherapy."
 
I sighed. "Sounds like something for psychos."
 
He shook his head and wagged his finger
as if I were a disobedient dog.
 
"Now that's the kind of thinking your psychotherapist would disapprove of."
 
My heart sank. "Sorry."
 
"It's alright. It's a long and winding road, Miss. DiVello."
 
My eyes touched the floor.
 
“Well you, of course, deserve the best…I went on a search for a psychotherapist that specializes in bipolar disorders. I found a great man who studied Bipolar Disorder II in particular and he can’t wait to meet you.”
 
“Why can’t my doctor ever be a woman?”
 
“…and he’s actually located in Manhattan,” Dr. Blanc continued,
ignoring my remark. He looked up from his folder
and up at me and I felt my heart race.
 
Manhattan – my home,
my city, my territory…
 
“Manhattan?”
 
“I thought you’d like that,” he grinned. “And plus,” he took off his reading glasses
and stared at me intently. “Only at home do we recover best.”
 

Before leaving, I was given my first dosage of lithium.
Each pill is 300 mg, and I was told to continue taking my anti-depressant
although Dr. Blanc wanted to slowly ease off of it. My goal was to be taking 900 mg a day.
 
He wanted to see how my body responded to it
and then choose what to do after.
 
I felt as if my body had its own mind.
I was no longer in control.
 
“I’ve scheduled your appointment with Dr. Diver for the 5th.
Until then, I suggest trying something new…a new, what do they call it, hobby?”
 
I nodded.
 
“Attempt to clear your mind of everything and keep yourself busy.”
 

I attended a few meetings as princess of Monaco, since I was still that, somehow.
 
Michel, friend and minster of state, stood in the middle of the last meeting
to announce my leave of absence, leaving me shocked.
 
In his quick French and my zoning out, I only picked up the words
“sickness”, “recovery”, and then his proud statement,
“I will be in charge of affairs until her return.”
 
Then there was polite clapping,
and impolite stares, and I stood up,
storming out of the room with a frown.
 
“Cameron?” Michel was behind me.
 
“Qu'est-ce que c'était?”
I lashed out.
 
His eyes were wide.
My fists were tight and shook.
 
“We want you to feel comfortable,” he said slowly.
“We will do what is best for your recovery and Monaco.”
 
I simply looked at him, my eyes filling,
my breathing heavy, my throat raw.
 
I felt betrayed, I felt hurt,
but I simply smiled,
“Thank you.”
 
I began to stomp away and didn’t stop until I was in a room
that had become familiar to me – with a familiar scent
of cologne and leather and spilled ink.
 
Connor looked up from his copy of the New Yorker.
“How’d it go?”
 
“Do you want to go skydiving?”
 

January 5th, 2013:
 
“I got the rich kids blues
And it's got nothing to do with you
I got the rich kids blues
And I'm not sure that I'll pull it through.”
 

Dr. Diver greeted me with a determined handshake.
I felt his devotion humming through his skin
and I knew he was nervous about it.
 
“Did you get involved with psychology because of your last name
and its relation to ‘Tender is the Night?” I grinned and Dr. Diver smirked.
 
“That’s not the first time I heard that.”
 
“I hope not.” I sat down into the couch and crossed my legs.
 
“That is very impressive though.”
 
“Fitzgerald is Connor’s favorite author,” I remarked. “He’s my best friend. Because of him, I re-read Great Gatsby, most of his short stories and read all his novels… The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Beautiful and the Damned…I didn’t like This Side of Paradise…”
 
Dr. Diver was suppressing a big smile.
“Very impressive indeed. Have you been reading a lot?”
 
“I can read two books in a day now.”
 
“So you’re keeping yourself busy, I know that…” he wrote something down
and then nodded. “I heard about your tennis playing, the snorkeling,
the sailing…even heard about your skydiving the other day—“
 
“You watch E! News?”
 
He laughed. “It’s hard not to hear about your adventures in Monaco…speaking of which,”
he leaned in. “How’d you handle Monaco publicly announcing your leave of absence because of your BD?”
 
“That’s a straightforward question,” I mumbled.
 
“Oh,” his eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, it’s just—
 
“It sucked,” I shrugged. “People talk.”
 
Dr. Diver leaned back into his chair.
His eyes were bright, bright blue.
They remind me of Niall’s.
 
I sank into the couch.
 
“I wanted to focus on two things today,” he said slowly.
“Family support and your sleeping schedule.”
 
“Okay.”
 
“I am well aware of your father’s state…and your mother’s. I’m sorry.”
 
“Thank you.”
 
“Do you have any family friends or close friends you can rely on
to help you through this recovery?”
 
“Sure,” I twirled the locks of my hair slowly. “I have lots of friends.”
 
“Cameron,” he looked a bit amused and so I giggled. He shook his head.
“You have a father in hiding. I know your life isn’t the average life of a 19 year old…”
 
“So? I’m a big girl…”
 
“Cameron.”
 
“Please call me Cam.”
 
“Cam,” he cleared his throat. “Is there anyone you can go to after a bad day?
Anyone…you can talk to about things regarding your medication and your—“
 
“/Yes/,” I stretched out on the couch and sighed. “I have Connor.”
 
“I’d like you to have at least 3 people, a sort of ‘Emergency Contact List’ if you will.”
 
The room went still as my thoughts raced—they usually did that now,
but they were less heavy with every day that passed.
 
The next words I said flew out of my mouth without too much stress
and thought and I nearly gasped at the relief that came over me.
 
“I have the Riveras,” I mumbled. “Elena and Alex.
They’re like a fam—They are my family.”
 
“And you see them often?”
 
“Of course.”
 
I realized I was lying.
 

Dr. Diver went on to talk about my sleeping schedule—
lithium could either bring or take sleep, it all depends on the person,
so he emphasized 8 hours a day. I barely heard him through my own thoughts.
 
I couldn’t recall the last time I got more than 5 hours a night.
 

I always get stuck on repetitive dreams—
a boy with light brown eyes and gold hair
and a lost dream, a lost life,
 
or a girl with scars on the inside of her arm,
in a hospital bed, pale, sad, lost and then dead.
 

“And I’ll see you again soon, okay Cameron?”
 
“Cameron?”
 
“Cam?”
 
I didn’t even notice he was standing.
I shot up from the couch
and kissed his cheek.
 
“Thank you, Dick Diver!”
 

“Excuse me, excuse me…”
“Am I too late?”
 
I collapsed into the seat next to Connor and surprisingly no one in the auditorium cussed me out. Gabby’s ballet company had a recital today and I promised Connor I’d show up and “be nice”, something I found dumb for him to add in.
 
“This is literally the last scene,” he murmured in my ear
and for some reason I giggled. He shook his head with a small smile
as I buried my laugh into his brown leather jacket. Then I saw Gabby.
 
She looked like a Barbie doll I used to play with as a child.
She was flexible and pretty and I always wanted to look like her.
 
“Damn, Stan,” I mumbled. “You nabbed one there, didn’t you?”
I nudged him but he was too fixed on her twists, her turns,
her pirouettes, her pointe, her pilé…
 
I felt something pang in my chest,
and in the dark, I studied Connor.
 
I thought I would cry
but felt weighed down.
 
I thought I would definitely cry when I realized
it wasn’t jealously that stung, but a longing;
I pined to be looked at the same way.
 
And I used to be, just weeks ago,
and it wasn’t enough…
 
I was a monster…
I am a monster,
I really am…
 
In the dark, Connor whispered,
“I was late too,” and his eyes were wet.
 

When it came time for the standing ovation,
Connor fled the room in a panic like the loser he is,
having forgotten to get Gabby flowers. I just smiled big
and cheered as if I had been there watching the entire time.
 
Then I went in search of refreshments.
 
My hand hovered over the pretty glass of champagne
as Dr. Blanc words echoed in my mind—
“No smoke. No drink,”
and I bit my lip.
 
It was only champagne…
 
“Cameron?”
 
My name chimed and echoed through the room and in my head
as I turned and saw the petite blonde, my blonde. “Ashley?”
 
“Cameron!”
 
We collapsed into a hug that took my breath.
She had lost hers, too. “What are you doing here?”
 
“I’m in Manhattan for a bit,” I said softly.
“Got fired as Princess.”
 
“Oh, no you didn’t,” she giggled.
“Anyone would be stupid to do that.”
 
“That’s true.”
 
“How’s…how’s…” she was at a loss for words.
“How’s the treatment?”
 
My throat felt tight, as if threatening to close.
“It’s good. Going. Just st-started.”
 
I realized I was stammering.
Ashley suddenly looked worried,
or maybe she was just confused—
 
Who was this girl?
 
Just a few days ago we were asleep in a warm bed, hiding from the world,
and now we were staring at each other as if strangers.
 
We found ourselves pacing around, found ourselves in a corner.
“What are they putting you on?” she whispered.
 
“Lithium.”
 
“Oh, wow.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“And the…anti-depressant?”
 
“Still on it.”
 
“Wow.”
 
It threatened again, my heart pounding against my chest.
And then it was there, in plain sight. We had nothing to say.
 
This sickness was driving away my friends!
 
I wanted to drink every glass of champagne I saw
and have Ash join me then collapse somewhere safe.
 
But we were completely unprotected and lost,
staring at each other like I stared at the subway for the first time.
 
“Enough about me,” I managed weakly. “How’s the acting?”
 
“I think it’s really starting up,” her eyes gleamed.
 
“And…how’s Alex?”
 
Her mouth twitched.
“He’s…good. We’re…fine.”
 
I felt that pang in my chest again.
Now I wasn’t sure what it was.
 
“Have…have you talked to Lou—“
 
“Oh!” Ash jumped suddenly, as if torn from me or…
as if she wanted to change the subject and smiled small.
 
“There’s Gabby. Let’s go congratulate her.”
 
She looped her arm through mine,
reaching for a glass of champagne
from a nearby plate before she did.
 
I looked down at our intertwined arms and,
as if shocked, I pulled away quickly.
 
Ash whirled around.
“What’s wrong, Cammie?”
 
I felt sick. “I feel fine,”
I swallowed hard.
“Excuse me.”
 
As I knelt to the porcelain tiles in a bathroom stall,
I realized it wasn’t the lithium pill I’ve been taking for the past three days,
for it couldn’t have hit yet, but instead it was simply my own doing. I made myself sick.
 

 
I felt dumb leaving the hall and not congratulating Gabby,
but I knew I could just ship her to Monaco for a vacation
and all would be fine. It was low and arrogant of me.
 
But what would you expect?
 
The night was cold, as it still is these days,
and I clung to my black coat for dear life.
 
I looked about the empty streets and wondered if taxis still existed in Manhattan.
 
It seemed like a ghost town, for just that one second,
and I felt alone and at peace. Maybe it wasn’t me.
 
Maybe it was everybody else…
 
“Cameron?”
 
I turned around and Zayn blew smoke toward me,
lingering in the air like a fog and having me ache for a stick.
 
Fu*ck me.
 
“Oh, wow,” I cleared my throat. “Hey, Zayn.”
 
“Have you been crying?”
 
“No.” I hadn’t shed a single tear, actually.
I surprise myself more and more every day.
 
“Niall ‘as been,” and with that he took a drag, smiling to himself.
 
“Didn’t know popstars could be so cruel,” I mumbled, putting a hand to my throat.
I was inhaling every bit of smoke he let out and wanted more.
“What are you even doing here?”
 
“I don’t know ‘nymore,” he studied me carefully and I studied the tip of his cigarette.
“You can’t have a drag, can you?”
 
I shook my head. Then he suddenly leaned in,
wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.
I started to cry. I didn’t want to.
 
Fu*ck, I thought I wouldn’t.
 
But he just patted my back
and in his stupid accent sang,
“You poor, poor baby…”
but I was rich, rich, rich
and I wanted more.
 

Eventually we’d pull away and he’d attempt to say nice things,
but I’d just walk away and call up a rich polo player I met
and have him stay at The Plaza Hotel, where I’d be,
sulking in 100% Egyptian cotton sheets,
waiting for him with a scary lust.
 

January 19th, 2013:
 
“I don’t know why, but I feel conned.
I wanna be an idle teen. I wish I hadn’t been so clean.
I wanna stay inside all day. I want the world to go away.
I want blood, guts and chocolate cake. I wanna be a real fake.”
 

I waited two weeks to see if any side effects kicked in, but things seemed fine.
 
I did another thyroid test and a lithium test at the doctor’s
and with Dr. Blanc’s approval from Monaco, I was already taking three pills a day,
for a total of 900 mg of lithium a day. It was a lot, but it was successful and I felt good.
 
I played for an organization’s “celebrity” tennis game to raise money for cancer
and was taking polo lessons with that very handsome young man outside the city.
 
Dr. Diver encouraged my burst of activities,
even complimenting how I looked on the cover of Teen Vogue.
 
But he knew I wasn’t sleeping well.
 
He didn’t know I was officially suspended academically from Verona
and he didn’t know the feeling I got in my gut every time I passed the Rivera penthouse
on my way to another interview or another shopping spree to ease any bad thought that came to me.
 

I decided to go in finally, charging past the doorman who simply stared at me wide-eyed—
he was different than the usual man, and that upset me more. I hit the button for the top floor.
 
I had a spare key, which they probably forgot existed,
as they probably forgot /I/ existed…
 
“Hellooo?”
 
I closed the front door. “Surprise!”
 
A head poked over the stairwell’s railing and my heart lightened.
“Cam?” Elle looked confused.
 
She came down the steps slowly, dressed in pajamas, having just woken up.
 
She had my Sailor Moon slippers on.
I mean – they were hers.
 
“Jesus, it’s 1 in the afternoon!” I laughed.
I embraced her into a hug and she was warm.
 
I pulled away and she was smiling
as if she had no choice. “Wow.”
 
“What?”
 
“Nothing…” she took the paper bags from my hands. “What is this?”
 
“Lunch,” I was grinning like a mad woman. “From Café Sun. Remember that place?”
 
I smiled at her fresh face. It was still very pretty, although she looked exhausted.
“You’re very pale, Elle.”
 
“You’re very tan.”
 
“Am I?” I stretched out my arms.
 
She nodded. “And your hair’s lighter. I forgot you cut it.”
She watched me squirm under her gaze.
 
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
 
She nodded. “How was your New Year’s?”
 
“Great! I can’t believe you didn’t come…I missed you!”
 
“You didn’t answer your phone calls.”
 
“I forget I /have/ a phone these days—“
 
“I wanted to come…it’s just so far away, you know? Alex went—“
 
“—I know."
 
(http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=81252319)
 
My frown was evident and felt as if it weighed down my face.
Elle stared curiously.
 
"What, did he—"
 
We paused at the sound of footsteps on the stairs and soon Alex breezed in,
yawning, his hair long and messy. He was just as pale but his face was just as bright.
 
“Oh…wow,” his eyes lit up at the sight of the food, and then at me.
“What a surprise, Cam.”
 
“Rivera,” I smiled, not looking at him anymore.
I took out the macaroni and the bread and the jam.
 
It was oddly quiet, so I found myself talking.
 
“When will Spring roll around in the city?
You guys should see Monaco…It feels like summer every day.
I go the beach in the morning—I mean, it’s right in front of the palace—
and I recently got licensed to drive a boat, so I was—“
 
“Grab the utensils, will you Cam?”
Elle was on her tiptoes as she got three plates out from the cupboards.
 
I nodded. Alex watched as I opened and closed several drawers,
finding matches, candles, napkins—
“Down two drawers, Cam.”
 
I shook at the sound of his voice.
“Oh, yeah,” I said softly. “Wow, it’s been long…”
 
Elle and Rivera looked at each other briefly.
I cleared my throat. “I was going to get lemonade too,
but it would’ve been too much to carry…at the palace,
they make the best lemonade—you have to try it, Elle,
especially when you take it out to the—“
 
“We have some lemonade in the fridge actually,”
Elle said softly. “Minute Maid.”
 
“Oh,” I bit my lip. “That’s good.”
 
As I went to the fridge, Rivera fumbled around with his phone,
complaining about voicemail, and Elle watched me about the kitchen.
 
I suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if the room were getting tighter
and weighing down on me. I cleared my throat again.
 
“Where are the cups again?”
 
They only stared at me.
 
Alex got up and got them himself eventually
and Elle looked to me as if I were invisible.
 
My heart was beating quickly.
 
“So, how’s that…fashion thing?” I smiled, recalling something I read on Twitter.
“With Vogue? You know, they’re nicer than I thought they’d—“
 
“I didn’t get the job,” Elle said mono-toned.
Rivera slammed the cups down on the counter and I jumped.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
Elle was quiet, her cheeks turning pink.
 
“…Elle?”
 
“I mean, I guess they don’t want a former heroin addict working for them, okay?”
She looked at me with blazing eyes and I looked away, surprised.
 
“Why do you keep bringing that up?” Rivera mumbled,
giving Elle a once-over before staring down at his juice,
and then his phone’s screen, then me, then his phone.
 
I reached for my glass of juice and found myself finishing the entire glass
before slamming it down and crossing my arms.
 
“Well, that’s ridiculous! When I went there, they were too nice—
awfully nice! I swear, I’ll give them a call, I’ll let them know—“
 
“Fu*ck, Cameron!”
 
Alex slammed his phone down on the counter,
causing Elle and I to jump, our faces a matching color of pink.
 
“This isn’t about /you/!”
 
I stumbled over words and leaned over the counter for help standing.
“Ex-Excuse me?”
 
He flew up, looking to his now-cracked iPhone screen,
cursing, and fumbling around with his hair before muttering,
“I don’t know what the he*ll you’ve become, but it’s not doing anyone any good.”
 
He stomped away, towards the stairs,
and I stood shaking as Elle simply bit into her croissant slowly.
 
When I heard his bedroom door closed,
I felt my eyes stinging and whispered,
“What the fu*ck was that?”
 
Elle set down her bread, looking as uninterested as ever,
and shook her head. “Everything I wanted to say,” she murmured.
 
My heart was slamming against my ribs now
and I was starting to feel nauseous.
 
“Wh-What did I even /do/?”
 
“What /didn’t/ you do, Cam?”
 
“What is that supposed to mean?” I spat.
 
“I lost my appetite,” she declared, standing up and storming away.
 
“Fu*cking tell me about it!” I walked after her
until we were standing in the living room.
“What did I do? Tell me!”
 
“It’s all about ‘Princess Cam’, ‘Queen Cam’,
‘Cam the socialite’, ‘Cam the trendsetter’,” Elle mocked.
“Even you can’t stop talking about yourself for a second!”
 
“I…” I struggled to find words as I noticed my vision was blurring.
“I was just catching you up,” I tried, but she was right, she always was.
 
“Oh, I’m quite caught up with the times, Cam,” she said bitterly.
“Teen Vogue, E! News and even CNN told me about you.
But you never even called.”
 
“I thought you’d show up to my party!”
 
“Of course you did!” Elle had tears down her face now
to match mine, and she put her hands to her face.
“Fu*cking hell…”
 
It hit then, with the blur going past my vision and to my thoughts.
“I thought…” I looked for words but felt ever so /dull/. “I…”
 
I bolted to the bathroom underneath the stairwell and knelt,
letting the cool tile touch my knees as it has before.
After I wiped my mouth and started to cry again.
 
Elle was leaning against the doorway.
“I think you should go,” she mumbled.
 

January 23rd, 2013:
 
“Give me love like never before
'cause lately I've been craving more.
And it's been a while but I still feel the same—
Maybe I should let you go.
 
You know I'll fight my corner
And that tonight I'll call you,
After my blood is drowning in alcohol.
No, I just wanna hold you.”
 

Dr. Blanc was far away and demanded that I return to Monaco,
but I couldn’t. I was completely captivated with Manhattan
and the way it was stuck between two seasons.
 
In the shadows it was awfully cold
and in the sunlight I could’ve sworn
I was in the Hamptons, tanning, warm.
 
I took more tests and according to the best doctors in the city,
my hypermania seemed controlled but my dosage of lithium was too high.
 
We went back down to two pills, for a total of 600 mg of lithium a day,
and hoped for the best. I felt as if I had failed my own body
but Dr. Diver said it was just the negative thinking again.
 
For some reason, I told him about my fight with Elle, and with Rivera,
and he encouraged me to fix it immediately. I couldn’t figure out how.
 

I was leaving Dr. Diver’s office when I bumped into a shaggy haired boy,
and his cheeks were pink from rushing in the cold in only a band t-shirt.
 
“Georgie?”
 
“Cam!” he grinned. “Wow, look at ya.”
 
I smiled. “It’s been so long…”
 
“I know.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Where ya headed?”
 
I shrugged. “I don’t have any plans for today actually…” It was a first.
Not being a first, George simply grabbed me by the arm and tugged me along.
 
“Hey—“
 
“Oh, shut it mate. How’ve you been holding up?”
 
“I’m…adjusting.”
 
He nodded once, a sure nod. “Good.
I heard about ya fight with Elle. And with Alex.”
 
“That was dumb.”
 
“Haven’t made up yet?”
 
I didn’t say anything.
He shook his head, smiling.
 
“It could be done so easily, Cam!”
 
“I don’t feel like…being around people…
when I’m like…this. I feel monstrous.”
 
“You’re with me.”
 
“It’s different.”
 
“How?” he shook his head again.
“You seem hell-bent on being hopeless and givin’ up.
Like with you and Alex—you coulda fought for him, y’know.”
 
I felt my cheeks flush. “No—“
 
“Yeah. An’ you chose than Irish lad instead.”
 
I shrugged. “We had our run.”
 
Georgie suddenly frowned, looking down at his boots
as we reached a crosswalk that told us to stop.
“You two always made up,” he mumbled.
“How’re the rest of us supposed to do it?”
 
“Are you referring to you and Elle?”
My voice trembled, just imagining a heartbroken Elle—
she’d fake it, fight it off, never show what she’s letting ache.
 
“Do you mind stopping ‘ere real quick?”
Georgie stopped in front of a bar and I nodded.
 
“Sure. I’ll wait here.”
 
“No, come inside mate…”
 
And like an idiot I did,
and Georgie walked straight up to Alex,
who was waiting and he looked up with big eyes.
 
“Guess who I found out in the cold?” George said with a big smile.
 
I rolled my eyes. “I gotta go—“
 
Georgie’s hand landed on my arm roughly, and he whispered,
“See ya two back at the penthouse in a bit,” and I realized I’d been forced into an intervention.
 
I watched him leave the bar, humming to himself,
and from behind me I heard,
“Whatta wanker,”
and I laughed.
 
“You sound stupid saying that,” I remarked,
and Alex looked to me curiously.
 
“Is this really happening?”
 
“I’ll leave. I can’t drink anyway.”
 
And I started to turn, but his hand stopped me,
cold on the back of my neck. “Wait, Cameron.”
 
I turned back slowly, shivering. “Yeah?”
 
“I’ve got to apologize,” he muttered,
almost incomprehensibly.
 
He might’ve already had a drink. Or two.
I nodded. “I haven’t eaten lunch yet.”
 

We ended up at Café Sun, eating what I had brought the Riveras two weeks ago.
Alex said he had eaten the food all to himself for dinner one night.
 
“I felt pretty lousy,” he chuckled.
He had cheese sauce on his lips.
 
I giggled as if I couldn’t control myself.
 
“What’s up with Elle and George?”
I asked carefully. Alex sighed.
 
“I never know anymore…”
he looked to me once before
looking down at his plate.
“I think they gave up.”
 
“Oh.”
 
It was a few minutes before I could muster up any more to say,
but Alex met me half way, and he had me talking about things
he wanted to hear, and he told me things I missed and wanted to hear as well.
 
He would have me talking nonstop,
then laughing in a way only he made me laugh,
and I would even get embarrassed, hiccupping and blushing.
 
And Alex just laughed,
amused, smirking,
being Alex.
 
Eventually we realized we were no longer eating,
but just talking, and the café was looking to clear tables.
 
We got up quietly, walking to the door hesitantly,
and then stopped at the sight of the pouring rain.
 
“Well,” Alex smirked. “This is romantic.”
 
“/Stop/,” I smiled.
 
“You wanna bolt for it?”
The penthouse was a block away.
 
I looked down at my brand new red Chanel shoes,
and so did he, laughing as if I were a clown.
 
“Shut up,” I mumbled, tugging on the straps
and pulling them off my feet. “Keep up!”
 
And the rain soon pelted me,
cold but encouraging, fresh and new.
 
I ran for a feeling of renewal,
I ran to Elle, I ran to a new start.
 
I ran until I couldn’t feel my legs,
my lungs, and could only hear
the sound of the drops hitting
pavements and his laughter,
his laughter, his laughter.
 
In the building’s lobby,
I nearly slipped on the tile,
and he caught me by the waist,
grinning, smiling, “God, you’re fast,”
and laughing, his laughter, his goddamn laugh.
 
The doorman made us take the stairs because we were dripping wet and loud—
with every step my heart pounded louder, hearing his breath,
still hearing the rain in my ear, his soft laughs, still.
 
I couldn’t do this myself,
I couldn’t drive myself mad,
I couldn’t dare fall into it again.
 
When I thought of his body behind me,
his shadow on mine, I thought of it in a hospital,
one, two, three times, thought of him on a road, bleeding.
 
I thought of my hands, dripping with it, the evidence, complete proof—
 
I was a monster…
I am a monster,
I really am…
 
And when I turned to him,
his eyes were warm with passion,
his lips looked soft, his touch the same—
 
“Alex,” I wasn’t crying, I was shaking,
I was cold, I was sad. “I never t-told you—“
 
“Shhh,” he murmured, and his hands were on the side of my face.
“You don’t have to say anything, Cammie…” My body was on fire,
and I looked up to him, his bright, warm, light eyes and I pulled away.
 
“Your accident wasn’t an accident,” I trembled.
“It was my cousin. It was Louis. It was a set up.”
 
We were two floors down from the penthouse.
Once single window behind me told us it stopped raining.
 
It was completely silent, only Alex’s quivering breath and my heavy, heaving chest.
 
“Tell me you’re lying,” he said mono-toned.
He sounded just like Elle, announcing her rejection.
 
“Alex…”
 
“Just lie to me!”
 
“No…no, I won’t,” I cried,
and I turned my back to him,
to the window, gasping to keep it in,
feeling like lead was suffocating me quiet.
 
I heard him collapse to the brick wall,
and punch it, again and again,
and I turned to stop him,
his bruised, bleeding
fists in my hands.
 
“Please, stop.”
 
“Y-you are the worst thing to happen to me,
thank you for sh-showing me that, again.”
 
“Please…stop…” my eyes glistened wet
and his shone with remorse.
 
“Fu*ck,” he whispered. And then he shook his head.
“This isn’t about us—it’s about you and Elle.”
 
I nodded. “I know,” I said meekly.
 
He let me reach for his fists, though,
which I wiped with the vintage scarf tied to my purse,
worth $100 or $1000, it didn’t matter. It was covered in his blood.
 
And I pressed the cuts to my lips, and he closed his eyes,
pulled away slowly and shook his head. “Let’s go.”
 
I followed him like his forgotten shadow up the stairs.
 

No one said anything as I walked in, wiping my face,
and as Rivera walked in straight to the bathroom,
bandaged his fists and then came back out,
sinking into the couch silently.
 
Elle and George looked dull and neutral on the couch,
their faces full of unfinished business and dissatisfaction.

No one said anything.
 
I looked to Elle and immediately wanted to kiss her face.
 
Maybe it’s because I felt sore inside,
maybe it’s because I ached for love,
or maybe it’s because I needed her.
 
I sank into the couch by her side, hugging her close
like my favorite blanket that I had lost.
 
She didn’t care that it was soppy and lame—wordless, but felt—
and I pulled away to get a DVD from my purse.
 
I held up the new movie ‘Zero Dark Thirty’.
 
“I love Bin Laden,” Elle remarked, and Alex and George were the first to crack smiles,
and I the first to let out a weak laugh, which grew strong only when they joined in.
 
And we were a big bunch of idiots, not knowing what to say,
knowing it didn’t matter for long, hoping it’d stay that same way.
 
(Almost done…I promise)
http://freetexthost.com/snw3xuh40d

I LOVE IT / ICONA POP
 
Hey yo
 
So this is Cameron DiVello’s “Then & Now”
 
First I’d like to inform everyone of the fact that Polyvore has the ability to remove your sets from being publicly viewed and doesn’t notify you that they did—
 
So you have to often go through your sets and see which ones have a red border.
Then you have to edit those sets and publish them so that they can be publicly seen again.
 
14 of my sets were like this! I got through all my old sets …
(Including the ones from my Twilight, “Team Edward” days) (Not ashamed)
(Actually look at this set I made when I got 400 likes, 3 years ago
http://www.polyvore.com/400_faves/set?id=11139164)
(Now I have 30,000+ likes isn’t that nuts) (Anyway)
 
Thank goodness Cam’s stories are in collections:
 
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/collection?id=319634 133 stories
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/collection?id=595674 68 stories
 
I have written 201 stories for Cameron in total !!! That’s CRAZY
 
/ / /
 
So I have combined these stories into 4 stages of the past 3 years of Cameron’s life.
Ages 17-19 — The “Queen Cameron of Monroe Academy” stage,
the “First Love” stage, the “Falling Queen” stage and the current stage,
the “Princess Cameron de Monaco” stage. Exciting stuff right!!??!?!?!
 
It’s a lot too…so as a way to inspire me to write (and maybe all of you to write too)
I’ve decided to make this ‘Then & Now” thing READABLE like a story
but still informative and brief
 
This set has been sitting in my drafts
AND THIS IS SO LONG I’M SO SORRY
 
I’m tagging all members so please bookmark this on your phone or something
and read it when you can :) This inspired me to write for Cam very soon
and hopefully it’s the same for you!!!
 
@emgeemtee @mclovinn @devilish, @little-red, @dark-blue-doll, @cestlula,
@lemonade-lagoon, @lovelygabriella, @oh-jayne @laurcams94, @lalasparkles,
@this-moment-is-stardust,
 

/ / /
 
“PHASE 1: QUEEN CAMERON OF MONROE ACADEMY”
 
It’s 2010 —
 
Cam and the Monroe crew have begun their Junior year and not being a virgin and being able to sneak into clubs is the newest trend…
 
And of course Cam’s on top of both, constantly. The year starts up with big, big drama — Nate and Morgan—and Cam becomes a lost puppy when she loses her longtime boyfriend and her trust for her longtime best friend.
 
It was always them, the three musketeers, and suddenly she doesn’t know what to do.
This, of course, is told with Cam still forcing a smile on her face and dancing and drinking with people. But she becomes the observer and she becomes strange.
 
She /befriends/ Robert Samuels here, who takes advantage of her loneliness:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=13748275&lid=319634
(Remember when the stories were this short? I don’t…)
 
/ “The water was burning me. Rob walked in the bathroom. Fcking door didn’t have a lock. He brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through his smooth hair.

He opened the shower door and looked at me standing under the shower rod with tears in my eyes. He sighed.

“Jesus, Cam.
Why can’t you just tell me what’s bugging you?” he said under his breath. I wiped my tears, shrugged, and began to coat myself with the foamed soap.

He closed the door and walked out. When I got out, he was gone. I changed and met Morg at Starbucks with a couple of the girls.
Another day. Another year. Anyone want to shop tomorrow?” /
As you can see, Cam pretends like nothing is wrong. Then Rob goes AWOL and Cam is for sure alone. She stays away from Morg and Nate and in result, away from the A-Crew of Monroe. She is lost again, her family is in a feud, and she is staying across the street from the DiVello penthouse at a hotel alone.
When Rob returns, you get a glance at Cam’s vulnerability.
She’s pretty needy.
 
/ “"Cam!" I whirled around and almost choked on my own smile. "Robby!" I screeched. I ran up to Robert and threw myself on top of me. He lifted me up and ended our greetting with a loooong kiss.

He looked freshly-shaven, clean, sexy...his eyes were smothering me as I looked at him in disbelief. "Rob...w-what are you-" he cut me off.

"I'm so sorry Cam, I know I have some explaining to do about my absence. My father made me go down to Miami with him for his law firm...you know how it is. I was really upset with you at the moment...I shouldn't have left I know. I'm so-"

I caught /him/ off and gave him a kiss. 3 minutes later, we looked at each other breathless.

I've been so lonely.” /
(http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=15044725&lid=319634)
What began as Cam’s little plot of using Rob became a complicated relationship and a twisted friendship. Together, they rule Monroe and everything is fine once again because Rob makes Cam feel like she’s on top of everything. Rob knows that, sees that, likes that, and encourages that side of Cam. He loves it…he loves…her?
 
Yeah! He does! Crazy, right? And as soon as he realizes this, he leaves Cam. Around this time, Morgan leaves too. Cam and Nate are heartbroken and lost together:
/ “I woke up with a shudder. It was dark. I looked around, and with the moon light pouring through the windows, I saw my living room. Red plastic cups were everywhere, alcohol bottles thrown around. It looked like a place after a party.

I clutched my throbbing head. I was sitting at the bar. Tons of bottles surrounded me. I heard a sudden snore and I shook. I whirled around to see Nate sitting on the couch, where he never left throughout the party, and I sighed.

I got up, and fell next to him.
I leaned my head on his shoulder.

I just want to be loved.” /
(http://www.polyvore.com/how_you_looked_at_me/set?id=16092611&lid=319634)
More vulnerable, needy Cam — the TYPICAL Cam —
After this, lil-needy-Cam falls into a weird relationship with Nate
that she practically carries on for the next 200 stories—everything they do
makes it seem like they’re a couple, or at least lovers, but they’re not…are they?
 
Cam can never decide on her feelings for Nate so she just leaves it at what it is.
She tells him her problems and they fu*ck if they’re in the mood (and if they’re both single)
 
Cam just wants that rush of love again with Nate,
and she becomes quite bored of her own dullness when it’s not exciting anymore.
 
So when she sees Elena “Too-Cool-For-School” Rivera laughing with Robert Samuels,
something inside of her comes to life…
 
(http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=16597122&lid=319634)
(I had written in this in some lazy “poetry” style omg I CAN’T)
/ “I put my waving hand down. Watched Elena gracefully
get in a taxi. saw Rob. in the taxi. watched them ride away. with a panic-striken face.

hailed a cab; said my new home's address.
leaned back into the leather. whipped out my phone.

TO: Elena
FROM: Cameron
hey E, want 2 do lunch on the 5th b4 the Chanel opning? we need 2 talk.

my vision was blurry. thumbs were quick. tears flowed.

the driver pulled up to my new home. I said "thank you." gave him $10.
I marched up the steps to an unfamiliar place- home. surrounded by boxes,
i sat down on the floor. and wept.

out of the shadows, came out N.
"hey. nice place. why are you crying?"
he knelt down beside me,
holding my arm tight, as he's done so many times before.
but I felt no tingles.
it was a victory.

I explained to him my life problems- the usual.
he didn't complain.
he never did.

we shared a few smokes and a few drinks
and a few laughs and fell asleep watching
Forrest Gump.

"run forrest, run!' “ /
 
As you can tell, Cam is absolutely crushed by the fact that Rob blew her off
and then skips around the city with some “D-Lister” or whatever.
So she starts plotting but really she’s just being a baby.
 
On her way to meet this stranger “Elena Rivera” to totally bi*tch at her,
she’s running things through her head. Thing is, SPOILER –
Cam’s actually nervous. Elle seems like a really cool girl—
someone who could beat Cam up —Cam just passes it off as,
“She’s a doll” — but she’s actually intimidated!
 
While she’s fretting some idiot bumps into her and she spills her coffee on him.
What idiots…they’ll really regret that huh
(http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=16674432)
 
/”I started walking my way towards 5th and 32nd, where Café Sun was located, and where Elena would be waiting. I started running things to say to her thorough my head. There wasn’t much- I just wanted to know what she’s doing running around with Robert. But in the nicest way, of course.

El was a doll, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that.

I turned the corner of the street, and BOOM- some moron bumped into me.

“Ugh- excuse me.” I stated, and then saw the man’s lovely denim jacket was stained by the coffee I had been holding in my hands. As a habit, I began to blot it gently with a napkin from my purse.

“Sorry, just hate when there’s a stain on my shirt, so I imagine you’re pretty pissed-” I rambled, then looked up to see the guy was smiling down at me. I blushed. I haven’t blushed in a long time.

“It’s fine. Hey, that’s pretty cute- any other New Yorker would have cursed me out and rush away.” He took the napkin from me and threw it out.

“But it’s fine.”

I grinned. “I /would/ have cursed you out, but mind you, I’m really in no rush. I’ve got to go to Café Sun to meet someone…” I drifted off.

He smiled back. “I’m Alex. You are?”

“Cameron. Cam.” I told him, shaking his out-stretched hand. Yes, I noticed how our hands stayed together for awhile.

“You look familiar,” he said, “Have we met?”
I shrugged lightly. “What school do you go to?” He laughed.

“I just graduated, actually- I’m taking a free year.” I laughed.

“Well, if you need any fun this free year,” I took out my Blackberry and handed it to him, “…call me. Put your number in.” I said to him with a wink.

He gave me a seductive smirk back and my stomach did flips. When was the last time I flirted with a guy that I /had not/ known since daycare?” /
 
SO LONG but obviously pretty important…
Cam’s basically flustered for the first time in her life aha
and she acts like a kid (or the 16/17 year old that she is?)
 
She’s acting so unlike what she’s supposed to be acting,
so basically herself, and not what society had made her,
and Alex falls into a trap and Cam is totally in for it
muahahahahaa
 
Then this happens at the café:
 
/ “She laughed, shaking her head. “Because this is ridiculous, you see…we’re just friends. Trust me. Rob isn’t my type…” she drifted off. I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?” She took another sip of her smoothie. I watched the red liquid go up the straw slowly and looked back to her eyes.

“Well…have you ever heard of a ‘Chuck Bass’?” WE CRACKED UP.

Her laughter went as she looked behind me with a frustrated frown. “What the he!l are you doing here?”

I whirled around stunned. And saw…Alex. I smiled.

“Hello, there…what are you doing here?” I said flirtatiously. Elena was about to say something, but Alex cut her off.

“You left your phone in my hands when you ran off, silly.” I blushed, taking my phone back. “Oops. Sorry.” I said.

“Its fine, babe.” He gave me a wink and I smiled back.

Elena seemed to be gagging. “You two /know/ each other!?”

I looked at her confused. I looked from Alex and back to Elena.

“Do /you/ two know each other?” Elena was flustered and Alex laughed.

“Yes, this child you sit in front of happens to be my little sister.” Elena blushed. I giggled.

“Wow, I didn’t see that coming.” Elena shook her head.

“Yes, well, you can’t choose siblings, you see.” I looked at Alex and he winked at me. Again.

“Alex, get the hell away.” Elena said as I giggled.

“Okay little sis…I’ll talk you later, Cam.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and walked out of the café.

I watched him go and Elena scoffed.

“Please, Cam, don’t get any ideas.” I looked at her and laughed.

“Relax, relax…” I pulled my thoughts back and looked at her seriously. “Just don’t get any ideas with Rob…deal?”

She looked at me without an expression on, and I wondered what she was thinking. “Sure.” She finally said.” /
 
So we see that Elle and Cam hit it off and they have great chemistry.
 
Also, fun irony in this story too – Cam threatens Ashley about being with Nate.
So because of Cam threatening both Ash and Elle over Nate and Robert, she meets Alex.
 
You can also see that Cam will ruin a certain “deal” in a pretty big way
L O L …
 
Yes, I’m talking about…
 
“PHASE 2: FIRST LOVE”
aka, “CAM’S AWAKENING”
 
So the weird thing with Camlex is, not only are they polar opposites to society
(rich girl, rebel boy in a way?), but this is both of their first times really being so into someone else—
and they try to really get over it but the love becomes sort of addicting to them both…
 
This of course creates problems with Elle, who doesn’t approve of it at all
(and also Emily, who writes for Elle, who ends up leaving the group 329425 times)
(I BLAME MYSELF) (we lose a lot of her great stories too wah) (I actually hope it’s not my fault)
 
Also Cam changes, she really becomes what she wants to become,
and not what society forces her to be. Even her style kind of changes—
from dressing like this—
 
http://www.polyvore.com/all_about_leighton_meester/thing?context_id=599007&context_type=lookbook&id=23356713
http://www.polyvore.com/gossip_girl_fashion_blast_blair/thing?context_id=2332063&context_type=lookbook&id=20358430
http://www.polyvore.com/october_22th_2010_0003_youknowyouloveme.org/thing?context_id=2332063&context_type=lookbook&id=25508582
 
to this—
http://www.polyvore.com/leighton_is_life_spy_shoes/thing?context_id=599007&context_type=lookbook&id=20450691
http://www.polyvore.com/lauren_moshi_frankie_happy_face/thing?id=40588151
http://www.polyvore.com/leighton_meester_street_style/thing?id=70501167
 

Anyway Camlex events —
 
They hook up for the first time after a pool party, drunkenly:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=17058500&lid=319634
 
Then of course, the many break-ups, I’ll list some “important” ones:
 
Fighting over Alex and his drugs, which remind Cam of her mother’s involvement with them
and so she ends up sleeping with Rob http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=17948311&lid=319634
 
Cam being super dramatic, GG trying to ruin prom for Cam,
Alex hangs out with Ashley for the first time…and there’s chemistry there:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=19359588&lid=319634
 
Their first real, big breakup:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=19902533&lid=319634
 
Then of course they date other people, Cam dating Zack—Nate’s cousin—
who ends up abusing Cam until Alex beats him up:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=20181630&lid=319634
 
So of course they get back together, break up, get back together, etc.
They’re just a big ball of happiness and great sex until their worries get the best of them.
 
I think this story represents that best:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=21077189&lid=319634
 
And in a way, they grow up together, and mature,
and go through A LOT together.
 
Alex was, of course, with Cam as she began her next phase,
or more precisely, /became/ her next phase—
her mental health began to deteriorate…
(http://pastebin.com/jnDPdME3)
 
She went and broke up with Alex and really started hating herself and he left for a month
and she was with Rob AGAIN. THEN SHE MADE THE MISTAKE
OF THINKING A BOY COULD BRING HER THE HAPPINESS SHE NEEDS.
SHE WAS HAPPY BUT IT WASN’T ENOUGH:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=21999036&lid=319634
 
“PHASE 3: THE FALLING QUEEN”
 
I’M STILL TYPING IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE
I CANNOT EXAGGERATE ENOUGH
HOW CAM’S SICKNESS
IS CLEARLY
WORSENING
 
It began with the death of her mother—
Cam develops PTSD
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=21629766&lid=319634
 
She does extremes like stripping (I totally forgot about that)
and tempting an engaged-ex-boyfriend-Alex
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=26116487&lid=595674
to being totally normal and laughing along with her father
 
She dated Leonardo, a totally nice and perfect guy who was actually used
just to demonstrate her sickness and how it drives people away (oops)
 
And then Cam objects at Alex’s wedding…they end up engaged themselves!
You think things would happy and dandy for Cam,
but people start to really question her…
 
She confronts her weight and bulimia, claiming Alex was the one who helped her through it
(which is basically true, but c’mon girl – can’t depend on no boy for your health):
http://www.polyvore.com/wont_get_lost_in_your/set?id=29012433&lid=595674
 
And then, on a school trip to Italy, Cam seems to be a different kind of girl:
http://www.polyvore.com/take_bite_my_bad_girl/set?id=30202791&lid=595674
 
In the attention of all the boys she rooms with, she experiences hypersexuality
and she basically can’t get enough of it – she’s super excited and hyper
and happy and she has to stop herself from banging Leonardo
 
Later you notice her great intake of anti-depressants – which marks the end of her hypomania –
her depression is more common since she has Bipolar II —
and this is officially seen as a problem here:
 
http://www.polyvore.com/guess_that_your_truth_is/set?id=31683763&lid=595674
when Cam and Alex decide to see other people.
 
Bascially Alex realizes that he can’t be the one to always heal Cam
and be her medicine and aid and etc – this is after she finishes her pills because of her obsessive intake.
 
So Cam is officially off the rails, and,
the pills aren’t helping her at all—
 
Bipolar disorders are often misdiagnosed as only depression
and the hypermania can get out of hand and the depression can kick in
and be taken to an EXTREME – a dangerous, life-taking one –BUT LUCKILY,
 
CAM STARTS TO TALK TO CONNOR!
He definitely keeps her afloat from doing something dramatic after her /millionth/ break up from Alex.
 
They spend a nice few weeks together during the summer,
but of course no man can keep Cameron DiVello tame—
when she suddenly runs into Ashley and Matt in Dubai,
things start to change and Cam’s hypermania returns…
 
She takes pills with strangers and sleeps with strangers (and secretly, Ash) in Dubai
and just wrecks havoc for the rest of the summer which includes sleeping with Will Schuller
(read all of this in the following link).
 
You get Cam’s first reaction to her realizing that she has a problem
in this story, where she and Connor split because he decides to attend Brown:
http://www.polyvore.com/you_say_can_we_still/set?id=35982169&lid=595674
 
She doesn’t know what her problem is though, no idea that she’s actually mentally sick,
and describes it as something that is controlling her, and only Connor sees it,
which he does. Connor has a feeling about it, which is why he gives her a pep talk in this story.
 
Which is good, because it’s what keeps Cam so hyped up instead of being too depressed
when she later finds out that the Riveras left after finding a letter Alex wrote to Cam.
 
/ “I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping my face. “I’m selfish.”

Connor opened his mouth.
He could’ve called me a bit*ch,
and walk away, like anyone else.

But Connor /knows/.
Connor knew everything.

I told him everything,
and he was the one person
who understood what haunted me,
what inhabited my body, what could…control me. /
 
That’s all in that one story; it’s quite the stepping-stone in Cam’s life.
In the end of the story, she’s technically alone.
 
This great big ol’ story is the last story in MMN’s First Generation! (8/22)
 
And Cam starts off her school year being insane and sleeping around with /a lot/ of boys…
mostly new guys she meet in her law class, Eric Atwood to add to the “brothers of friends” list
and also her professor. She’s insane.
 
Things like Morgan Atwood as her new roommate and Melinda Brown,
a nemesis of hers, being her sorority sister have her in this “I’m on top” phase,
which is funny because she’s actually spiraling down in her sickness – hence “Falling Queen”.
 
Anyway, Elle and Alex come back after 3 months and Cam feels upset, overwhelmed
and threatened and the whole “Cam vs. Elle” thing begins.
 
Of course they make up, and Alex/Cam too, and when they get together
they eventually get engaged, and they don’t “break-up” again:
http://www.polyvore.com/like_heart_undone_love_without/set?id=41262627&lid=595674
 
“PHASE 4: PRINCESS CAMERON DE MONACO”
 
Oh, also, Cam ends up being Monaco’s long-lost Princess because her father
was their long-lost heir to the throne. Her cousin Louis would be, but he opted out…suspiciously…
turns out it was to set Cam up to reveal her father’s sexuality to the Monaco officials…
 
And he was going to be the Prince then, but he ran off
and disowned Cam, taking all the money to her name with him.
 
AKA, lots of pressure on Cam.
Alex really starts to see this dark change in her,
and its her depression kicking in, that long moody phase:
 
/ She was having trouble sleeping; shaking and sniffling.

She stammered when asked how she felt
and she was smoking cigarettes again;
having too much coffee
and eating little.

But she was still there—
for me—and that mattered greatly.

I played records and she still danced.
I kissed her and she still went limp in my arms.

I caught her staring at me sometimes, with those lovey-dovey eyes,
and she still laughed at my stupid jokes and reached for my hand
when the cars honked too loud or when there were
too many people on the sidewalk.

She even woke up early with me, 5'o clock on every weekday,
with sleepy eyes and a tired cute smile to make breakfast
and kiss me to work as she drifted back to sleep.

She was perfect—
until it all hit her again
and then it scared me to death
and I hated it, the only little thing.

The only little thing that could consume her. /
(http://www.polyvore.com/found_you_with_bottle_wine/set?id=45384701&lid=595674)
This phase actually totally sucks because it’s basically a bunch of stuff
that comes crashing down on Cam right after thinks everything is perfect
and it turns out nothing is, but most importantly, she is far from perfection…
 
Cam decides to do something to curve her depression,
which is what she was always told to do (“Make yourself busy”)
and also make some money on her own, since she has none.
 
Alex encourages her to “be normal” and so she applies
for a job on campus at Café Verona, and here she meets Niall,
who is actually doing the very same thing—trying to be normal.
 
/“Hello?”

A blonde head popped from where he had been crouched.
I smiled. “Hey.”

His eyes went wide. For awhile I didn’t say anything,
only thought, /Well, sh*it, maybe this is a bad idea/,
but my thoughts broke when he replied, “Hi,” shyly.

“I was uh…” I drifted off. My fingers tapped on the counter nervously.
I cleared my throat. “Are you hiring?”

There was a great pause and after awhile
I thought I just had something on my face.

Then he seemed to jump in his shoes,
reached behind him, and an apron hit my face.

“You’re hired.”

I stared at him stunned. His cheeks were pink.
He smirked. “I’m Niall.” I shook his extended hand./
 
Cam continues suffering with her problems—
she mentions difficulty with taking her anti-depressants and also birth control—
after a pregnancy scare she opts out the anti-depressants for the birth control
and she begins to suffer a bit more than before. Her PTSD is seen in this scene
with Alex as well as some foreshadowing:
 
/ He popped strawberries in his mouth,
chewing angrily. He glanced over at me for a few times.

Then his face was normal-colored again.
“Just…tell me what to do.”

I played with the fruit.
“Stick around,” I murmured. “Not get killed in a car accident.”

He hit the brakes a little too hard,
scaring me to sh*it—but it was just a red light
and rushing pedestrians. I let out a shaky breath.

Alex noticed.
“Is that about your…mom?”

I shook my head quickly,
“No, no, why would it be?”

I started crying.

Alex just held me, and we drove on. /
(http://www.polyvore.com/wouldnt_you_like_to_love/set?id=46619633&lid=595674)
 
And then of course the worst irony happens and this happens:
http://www.polyvore.com/pieces_what_it_doesnt_matter/set?id=50495059
(That is Emily’s great piece of writing)
 
and this is Cam’s reaction:
http://www.polyvore.com/darling_heart_loved_you_from/set?id=51246846&lid=595674
 
And these are Camlex’s last exchanged words:
 
/"I love you, alright?" Alex leaned against my doorway and I smiled.

"We've been thorough so much," I whispered.
"Are you sure you want to keep going?"

I was grinning and joking and Alex,
who usually did the same,
was awfully serious.

For some reason, he kissed my forehead
and instead said,

"I think we'd have to, just to see if we really can get through anything."
And then he broke into a grin.

"I think we can."

We kissed again, again and again,
and Alex groaned in frustration.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he murmured.

But he did. I watched him go, to his beat-up car that I loved,
and he stopped half in to look back and blow me a kiss./
SO OBVIOUSLY CAM IS A MESS OKAY
and later you find out Louis, Cam’s cousin,
was behind the car accident and did it
after breaking down over his love for Cam
and committed suicide after writing a letter
that admitted all of this…
 
Alex tries to remember Cam and doesn’t –
they even sleep together as an effort –
and by the time Alex DOES remember
(oh sweet Jesus yes, he calls her and tells her he loves her, ETC.)
 
Cam actually chooses Niall and Alex is all pissy and goes off to drink
and finds Ashley! And you can fill in the blanks…There’s tension between Cam/Alex/Ash
and Alex even screams in Cam’s face for being at the Rivera penthouse at one point, it’s sad.
(http://www.polyvore.com/ive_come_around_this_time/set?id=64346065) ← pissy Alex written by Em
 
She develops a relationship with Niall that is at first her just being Cam and not wanting to be alone—
but then she develops actual feelings ☺ She falls in love with him right as he heads off on a world tour.
☹
 
Cam develops a strong friendship with Ashley,
even more strong than their friendship in Dubai,
and their “relationship” in Dubai is revealed, and
they are actually closer than anyone, even themselves, thought.
 
Cam reveals her relapse into bulimia to Ash,
and Ash is another to realize Cam has a real problem.
 
/Later, we would be in the bathtub,
passing a box of macaroons back in forth,
along with a bottle of beer. “I’ve been puking again,”
I told Ash, who was already half asleep, eyes squinting.

“Oh, no,” she uttered, sing-song like. “Don’t do that, Cammie.
I love you. I wouldn’t want anything to hurt you. What would Niall say?”/
(http://www.polyvore.com/bang_that_awful_sound_my/set?id=60549200&lid=595674)
This scene is a big foreshadow to
1) Ash/Cam’s hush-hush hookup that would be revealed
2) “I wouldn’t want anything to hurt you” – irony to Alex/Ashley hurting Cam
Anyway so Alex and Ashley hookup and decide to stay together
as was foreshadowed to happen in the past and Cam becomes Cam
and lashes out at Ash and even sabotages an audition Ash had.
 
After this, Cam goes into full-blast hypermania and she has many episodes,
most her being a total hyped out bi*tch and being rude to Ashley and Elle I presume.
 
It’s seen here when she goes on a joyride with Matthew Van Der Carte,
whom she also slept with, hence hurting Niall and clearly showing hypersexuality
– a sign of bipolar disorder:
 
/ “Bet you’ll scream before I do!” I shouted,
digging my fingers into his thigh.

One more gear and we were seconds away from crashing.
The brick walls and dark branches reaching to the sky
warned of Central Park, and a fork in the road,
and seconds later, an ambulance sounded.

Its lights glowed and howled in the black night and it scared us to death.
We screamed at the same time and were deafened by the sound of the brakes hitting the floor.

Matt’s head hit the steering wheel and my seatbelt yanked me back into the seat tightly;
though I threatened to fly out of the car, my angel wings were crushed.

After the stop,
the street was lit,
and the streetlight
flashed yellow until
it settled on a bright red.

There were marks on my neck, bleeding from the strap.
The angel wings, now in pieces, left bruises on my numb back.

Matt looked over and smiled lazily, shaking his head.
“Mr. DiVello will have quite the test ride report to send back, don’t you think?”

The police car wailed from behind us. /
(http://www.polyvore.com/too_many_joyrides_in_daddys/set?id=64755936&lid=595674)
So with that being there, Cam and Alex and Ashley actually have a little truce
(Ash and Cam are basically in love/in awe/inspired by each other in a really sister-friend-um-questionable way at this point) and TBH Alex makes up with Cam because he’s worried about her you could say.
 
(With good reasoning):
 
/ "I, uh, I was an a.ss. A giant fu.cking piece of fu.ck and I'm sorry for that."

She nodded,
once.
Permission to go on.

"I just had to sort everything out. And I realized that I was blaming you for my own problem and I'm sorry that I was such a di.ck to you, because you're a cool chick and one of my best friends."

She nodded,
three times this time.

Her eyes were scanning me,
and I felt nervous,
like I was under examination.

"Look, I'm sorry about Ash. I know it hurt you. I know /I/ hurt you and Elle hurt you and everyone just hurt you and that sucks but she's making me happy and I'm trying my hardest to do the same for her. And I hope to whatever there is up there that Niall is making you happy."

She waited a moment,
then smiled,
and said-
"What a big boy you've become."

I smirked,
then took a section of her hair in my fingertips,
"This looks good."

She looked down,
embarrassed as usual when I compliment her,
and shrugged-
"It was impulsive."

"The best things always are."

And when she looked up at me,
I winked playfully,
and she giggled.

"Yeah, Al," she said,
"I think we can be friends."

I fake bowed and said,
"It is my honor, Princess."

She smiled and pulled out a cigarette,
lighting it carefully,
and I pulled it out of her mouth.

She grabbed for it,
but I took a drag,
and said,
"Why are you doing this?"

"Al, that's not funny give that back."

"Why, though, Cam?"
I said, releasing the smoke through my lips,
then putting it back between them.

She shrugged,
"It's not a big deal."

"It is to me.” /
(written by Emily http://www.polyvore.com/had_heart_youre_one_who/set?id=68301687)
 
After that, Cam’s hypermania becomes dangerous when she’s on the ledge of a building in London
after partying with a bunch of strangers and getting too drunk:
 
/ Suddenly, I was standing on a chair, looking out into the city.
Suddenly, the thrill I had all night was boiling and edging me on.
Suddenly, I held onto the wall as I took a step off the chair and on the balcony’s ledge.

“Cameron! You crazy girl! Get down from there!”

I balanced myself and began giggling giddily.
“Isn’t it funny how the wind kicks up?”
 
I slowly let go of the wall,

slowly opened my arms,

slowly closed my eyes

and I felt alive.

With my hair blowing wildly in the wind,
arms spread open wide,
I looked like a god,
an angel,
a queen.

I felt alive. /
(http://www.polyvore.com/pick_you_up_let_down/set?id=69968373&lid=595674)
 
(CONTINUE HERE, ALMOST DONE)
 
http://freetexthost.com/al1qws51zr

backseat freestyle / kendrick lamar
(I NEED HELP QUESTION DOWN BELOW)
 
upcoming music festival down the street from my school...KENDRICK OR ED SHEERAN? (not the question)
 
idk if i can pay for both
 
ANYWAY
 
HEY
 
MY LAST SET WAS SO MELODRAMATIC AHAHA
school / life is indeed hectic but i can breathe
and i am alive
 
hmmm
 
i've been wanting to post from RPs
but never get around to it SIGH
hopefully this weekend
 
ALSO...where do i buy a prom dress online
i have like no time whatsoever to go out and buy one
 
i want something tight and sexy but flowy too
strapless and maybe high-low style
i want it to be long too,
perhaps
 
pale pink
gold/skin tone
light baby teal
 
um i'm not sure about anything else
but yes
 
HMMPH
 
Can I buy a replica of Marilyn Monroe's "Happy Birthday Mr. President" dress
 
hmph
 
-alex
 

www.sexydiary.tumblr.com

ooooooo
 
this is dumb
 
i'm so done
(with school)
 
like i'm exhausted and i cannot breathe
see how dumb this set is? IT REPRESENTS MY LIFE
 
haahahhahaa
 
anyway i'm gonna start listening to best coast more often and rolling my eyes and sleeping whenever the eff i wanna because i am SO DONE
 
bEING A TEENAGE GIRL
WITH A JOB
IN HIGH SCHOOL
IS THE MOST DIFFICULT THING IN THE WORLD
 
omg im gonna start drinking myself to sleep
 

and excuse me florida
 
i wore a strapless dress to school today because it was hot like ALWAYS and then i get out of work at 9 and it's 40 degreees????? WHAT EVEN
 
AND NOW TOMORROW WON'T GO HIGHER THAN 70?????
 

you're all like "AND"
but i am FREAKING OUT
 

GOODBYE
 
-ALEX
 
UGH

sleepin’ around / SONIC YOUTH
 
www.sexydiary.tumblr.com
 
~ ~ ~
 
{TWC}
 
I have had all this planned for the longest time
and since I never have much time,
I need to flush it all out now
 
There are a lot of flashbacks
but they’re more detailed unlike my last story
 
(http://www.polyvore.com/waiting_for_you_its_been/set?id=67331696)
 
This is a lil collab with @mclovinn and @iwearoxfords
and also briefly mentioned is @little-miss-rae (the #1 writer for TWC hehe) and @emgeemtee nicole of course i just don't know what's next for her so it's not much
 
It ends with a cliffhanger and also reveals Kat's past in NYC during the break
with Sam & Tom (wish I wrote more about them before cos now it's all past tense)
 
But I think it highlights what a romantic Kat is, no?
 
Being all nostalgic...Georgie's struggle in the last 2 years is also revealed
I tried to not make this too long
 
Hope y'all understand
Feel free to ask questions aha
 
~ ~ ~
 
12/28/12:
 
Falling back into routine was easier than I expected it to be.
Whether that gave me relief or not, I do not know.
 
Working two part-time jobs on the weekdays was more gruesome than I remember.
 
At the library, the adults still checked out self-help books
and the children and the teens laughed at me,
mocking and being more cruel than ever.
 
At the Rigby Antique shop, the old folks still wandered in
and they were kind but the job was ever so lonely.
Ma never came by anymore.
 
She stayed on New Temp seven days a week
and she refused to talk to me.
 
I found myself becoming dull and sad
the longer I worked, and when I was done working,
I often stopped at Effie and Alice's place to refuel (drugs).
 
I was starting to dress like a boy and my laugh was becoming smaller and smaller.
 

No, relief never came with the working-middle-class Dublin lifestyle,
and the more I thought about my time away from it all,
the more I thought about leaving again—
 
Then reality would settle and I'd need to pop another pill.
Down it went into my body, settling and dissolving,
disappearing and stored away like my secrets.
 

(Flashback / New York City)
 
I remember the day clearly because it was my birthday.
I was turning 19 and Sam went out to get a cake.
 
Tom came home from his garage early and passed out smelling like gasoline,
smudged with grease like always and being more quiet than usual.
 
He'd been like that the past 3 days and Sammy just said,
"Maybe the fu*ck is growing up,"
but I had that feeling.
 
I remember waiting for Tommy's eyes to close—
he'd be stretched out on the beat up suede sofa
and he'd look innocent and childish for a bit.
 
When he finally began to snore,
I snuck into his stash and got out my new kick,
my little secret, my reds and yellows. My bluebirds.
 
I knew I was addicted,
but I knew how to control the dosage.
 
I learned from the best but I think they'd be ashamed.
Of themselves or myself, I couldn't decide.
 
I danced around in my room until I couldn't feel anything
and I sank into my mattress smiling at the ceiling.
 
I'd never felt such a high before,
such a complete feeling of absence.
 
Even Ringo would feel it in the room,
filling up the cracks, as he stretched out beside me
and purred throughout the evening in delightful content.
 
I was happy there in that dingy apartment,
in that special city of America. Home of the free.
 
I never wanted to leave and I never thought I'd have to.
 
But one thing I remember distinctly from that day was the noise.
 
He barged in the apartment crying out for his brother
with a frantic voice I'd never heard before.
 
It wasn't until the commotion continued
and the muffled voices grew louder and louder
that I became curious and floated from my bedroom.
 
Sam's face was caked in black ash and he smelled of burnt cinder and smoke.
He had shaken Tom up and the two were shouting, both red in the face.
 
"They burnt the place to the ground!
They'll fuc*king come here next!"
 
"Calm down—“
 
"You said you had it covered!
How the hell could you let this happen, Tom?"
 
"Grab the money!"
 
Their voices blended together and it only sounded familiar
and warm to me, and in my state I was still smiling,
though I knew something was wrong.
 
Sam's crisp smell burnt my nose and made my eyes water
but I could only stare at him. I fell in love with him that summer.
 
And when our eyes locked, his fear settled into my own body.
"What's going on, then?" I asked.
 
At the sound of my little Irish voice, Tom started to cry.
 
That's when I started to shake and felt awfully dizzy,
and sick, and I wanted to lay down and I did,
right on Sam's duffel bag and his lips shook.
 
And so did his head, his arms as he steadied me back up,
"No, no, Kitty, we've got to go now. Something happened."
 
I leaned against the couch and watched them walk about frantically.
 
The severity of the situation didn't quite settle with me
until after I was gone from the city, the country, and my boys.
 
I didn't seem to react to the tons of green money
Tom stuffed into the black duffel bags,
and the pounds of colorful pills,
my pills, my great new kick.
 
There was more green paper,
and other green things,
and needles,
and tears,
 
"Stop doing that!" Sam screamed,
and Tom was a mess, as I'd never imagined before,
but still in that state of panic I was in euphoria because I loved them,
both of them, Sam and his kindness and even Tom and his roughness.
 
"Don't cry on my birthday," I sang to Tom,
and he suddenly looked at me and touched my cheek
and as I went warm and smiled, his eyes stayed filled to the brim
and the door was suddenly pounded on and everyone went still, tense.
 
Angry, muffled shouts were on the other side
and Sam sprang to action, reaching for his duffel bags
and my arm and looking to Tom. Tom was pale. He was strange.
 
"Go," I heard him murmur.
 
Sam was shaking more than ever
and Tom's face was wet.
 
"Tom—"
 
"Go!"
 
In a flash, and in my delirious state, I was reached for
Sam dancing me around, pulling me about,
and tugging me and I laughed.
 
His hand covered my mouth and it tasted like fire
and I nearly choked on the strength of his stench.
 
"You were in a fire," I murmured, but he told me to keep quiet with wide eyes
as we stammered out a unclasped window and onto the fire escape.
 
I remember looking back once and meeting Tom's glance.
 
And when he winked at me, I knew there was some kind of hope,
and as Sam tugged me down step by raggedy metal step, I was smiling.
 
I didn't react to the shouts coming from above us,
I didn't hear the, "Where is he? Where's my money? Where's the girl?"
 
And as we ran down the street hand-in-hand,
I didn't even notice the loud bang, the deafening pop,
or Sam's staggering step and sharp intake of breath—
 
Only the sudden tight squeeze of my hand snuggly in his,
and I smiled, and I laughed. We were running away, free.
 
My hair flew around me and nothing was wrong.
 

(Present)
 
"Hide and seek, then?" Someone said this into the dark,
the fire blazing behind them, the night brutally cold.
 
If it wasn't for the alcohol in my belly,
I'd be an ice block, we'd all be the Arctic.
 
But instead we stayed necessarily warm
with the beer and the laughter
and after the suggestion,
they all spread out.
 
Someone was counting.
 
I stayed close to the fire because I was growing increasingly cold
and as I stretched my hands to the flames, the scent of burning wood
stung my eyes and pierced my nose and with a memory and I stepped away, quickly.
 
I ran right into "It" and he shouted, "You're it!"
and I let out a pierced, frightened scream throughout the forest.
 
The surrounding trees and shadows giggled,
the forest creatures—the New Temp inhabitants.
 
"Were you even hiding, Kitty?" Reed laughed
and the crinkles around his eyes reminded me of someone.
 
I winced. "No," and I tugged my sleeves down, shivering.
 
He quickly shook out of his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders,
and with a tight, quick squeeze to my hand, he happily and drunkenly slurred,
 
"Don't worry then, princess," and with a wink went off to find someone else to tag.
 
I stayed by the fire with the thought of his hand squeezing mine
and his bold wink in the frighteningly freezing night.
 

It wasn't Reed at all, it could've been anyone then,
but I was hopelessly in love with that lingering touch,
desperate to have it back — the assurance, the sure trust.
 

12/29/12:
 
“Where’ve ya been?”
 
George appeared in front of me with his soft hands on my skin
and I slowly backed away from them as if they were repelling magnets.
 
“'Round,” I sipped my sugar-filled drink and I could feel it hyping me up by the second.
“I could ask the same about you…”
 
I ran my hand across the electric guitar slung back around him.
I wanted to touch him and never let go.
 
He had kissed me a week ago and it was the best thing to happen to me since I left America. But Georgie was incomparable to anyone else.
 
It was always different with him, and special, and my love for him
had rushed back to me with that one kiss in the cold
and suddenly I couldn’t stop looking at him.
 
Any past memory sat in the back of my head as my heart took control.
And Georgie’s gaze remained steady on my face.
 
He wasn’t drunk yet.
 
“I just came in this morning,” he placed a lock of hair behind my ear
and my cheeks flushed red. He smiled, a familiar loving smile.
“I had a thing with this record company…”
 
“How’d it go?” I took another sip from my drink.
It was making me do little hops up and down to the music.
 
When I noticed Georgie’s frown I looked down into my glass.
 
“Not so good,” he leaned back on the bar. “Like usual…”
 
“Well, at least you got your fans here in New Temp.”
I gave him my most supportive smile and he touched my nose.
 
“Least I got you.”
 
I handed him my glass and he took a sip and made a face.
“Sugary,” he grinned and I was ready to wrap myself into him
but he was called to the stage where he was best—they’ll see it one day.
 
And from that stage, he winked my way, singing,
“Waiting for you, it’s been a long time coming…”
 
And I felt like the only girl in the world.
 

That never lasts, though,
because Georgie gets drunk
and other pretty girls are about.
 
Skinny and difficult to stop looking at—
first there was Alice, and then Nicole as always,
and when Effie took the stage my voice caught in my throat.
 
George was laughing along with the boys
with their drunken sexist slurs and their hungry eyes.
 
I popped another pill; still wishing it was harder,
quicker, making my body more numb, more dumb,
I started to leave the bar knowing I shouldn’t have come.
 
I was too high and too tired to notice the footsteps behind me
and at my bungalow Georgie said, “Can I come in?”
 
I jumped and he was smirking.
 
“I didn’t see ya there…”
 
“Yer dressin’ like a boy now?”
 
I blushed. “It’s comfy.”
 
“Yer /adorable/,” he smiled,
charming as always. I sighed.
 
“Do you want to sleep with me then?”
 
I was surprised to see his cheeks go pink in the dark.
In a way, I was angry, because I knew I couldn’t be mad at George.
 
“It’s been two years,” he whispered, as if frightened.
 
“I know,” I murmured back.
 
What if things were different?
 
The air was cool and my body was as warm as it was two years ago,
and even as it was in elementary school, when George first took my breath away.
 
And he did it again, crashing his lips against mine,
pressing me against the wall of my bungalow.
 
“Are you sure you want me and not—“
 
Georgie pressed his finger to my lips and smiled.
“Shhh,” and I was shoved inside my little home
and high on my favorite drug, my favorite kick.
 

12/30/12:
 
Georgie’s body rested across mine
and his arms were heavy around me.
 
His breathing was light and his face ever so sweet.
 
My heart always felt as if it floated in my chest
whenever I woke up next to him.
 
That would never change
though other things could.
 
That was the worst part of it all.
 

I rolled out of bed and I was completely nude
and it didn’t feel odd or wrong
but completely normal
and fine and right.
 
I peeked over at Georgie and he was still fast asleep,
resting off last night’s performance.
 

Here in New Temp, he was the old Georgie I know and love.
 
He played songs from the top of his head
and they poured easily out of his mind,
out of his soul, and into the crowd.
 
But when we were away from our home,
and out into the real world—
the cold, frightening one—
he was struggling,
strange, lost.
 
He pitched demos to companies and they slammed him down.
He performed at bars and no one understood his words.
 
And only when he was a mold of their creation
could he ever be successful and “lucky”.
 
They stripped off his guitar
and replaced it with machines,
changed his clothes, changed his name.
 
He didn’t want it but he wanted his name in lights.
 
He could be a very vain person
and a very narcissistic artist.
 
He knows what he wants
and won’t stop until he has it.
 

And in the end, I always want him.
It was hard to understand and I never did.
 
I just knew it scared me to pieces and I was the first to leave, at least now—
it wasn’t like that before, but it felt like the last two years had done something to me
that made me do things I never imagined doing, most importantly, to the people I love.
 

On that thought, I fled my bungalow and ran to the dock for the boat ride home.
Last night was indescribable—magical, even—but I felt undeserving of it now.
 
On that thought, I passed a frail old woman leaning over a flower,
carefully touching its petals with care and tenderness.
 
“Ma?”
 
She slowly turned and then faced her back to me.
 
“Yes?”
 
“Are ya still upset with me?”
Tears suddenly filled my eyes,
a record for this time of day—
 
I just felt horribly sad.
 
I needed to go back to my bungalow
and lay back in bed with Georgie but I didn’t.
 
“If you don’t better yourself,” she replied slowly,
“all the flowers will keep dying.”
 
With that she plucked the flower from the earth
and left it at my feet, its roots stretching over my toes
and tearing up my heart until I burst into tears and kept on.
 

2/7/13:
 
George;
 

“So…you two aren’t together?” David asked,
popping open my second beer.
 
I shook my head. “Nah.”
 
“What’s with this whole ‘being in love with your best friend’
thing that’s so difficult?” he shook his head, looking towards Alice.
 
I laughed, bitterly.
 
“Maybe Kat and Alice lacked more than nutrition when they weren’t eating,”
I muttered. “Didn’t get some vitamins necessary to not be so fooked up.”
 
Dave was as drunk as I was so we laughed, loudly,
but it ended when the next song came on
and it was a sad song and we sighed.
 
We both took a swig from our bottles and shook our heads.
 
“That was horrible,” Dave said.
 
I nodded. “Yeah, I know. Just miss ‘er, that’s all.
I miss how everything use to be.”
 
He nodded in agreement and we continued watching the bar around us
grow and breathe and dance around us. Hell, it all looked the same.
 
It was the same music, the same booze,
the same girls coming ‘round “to just say hi”
in their short dresses, long legs and flowing hair.
 
And it was the same—taking that one girl home—
she was nothing special, and it meant nothing.
 
But it always did the job for the time being
and I didn’t have to fall asleep alone.
 

2/10/13:
 
Kat;
 
I woke up with my head resting against a log,
covered in blue paint, head throbbing.
 
It was Sunday morning.
 
/Sh*it/
 
It’s Sunday morning!
 
I stumbled past the bodies lying in the grass
like little fallen angels (though they were nothing of the sort)
and dashed for my bungalow, dizzy from a rush of blood to the head.
 
I quickly grabbed my knit purse with my change of clothes for the library
and scrubbed off the paint from my body and was out the door like the wind.
 
Then I rushed back and got Ringo and was out the door like a storm.
 

On the earliest boat, I sat alone,
wiping my tears as I looked at the gray ocean.
 
I didn’t see him sit down,
but he was there next to me,
legs propped up on the chair.
 
“You’re probably wondering if it’s even worth comin’ out here,”
Reed said softly. I laughed. “Yeah.”
 
He nodded. “Me too.”
 
I turned to face him, his handsome small face,
and smiled. “Well, back to the real world, eh?”
 
He stretched out in his seat, the ocean air wafting up our noses.
“Don’t know which is better.”
 
“You’re heading off to work, right? The record store by me shop?”
 
He nodded and suddenly a grin spread across his lips.
“Back to stealin’ yer customers and listening to the Ramones all day.”
 
“Sounds better than what I do…”
 
“You should stop by,” he suddenly said, quickly.
I met his gaze and it looked as desperate as mine.
 
We both looked to our laps and swallowed hard
and I cleared my throat. “Effie wouldn’t mind?”
 
Reed’s cheeks went pink and I bit my lip.
“As long as George doesn’t.”
 
We sat there with our pink cheeks
and the salty air and our awkward smiles.
 
“I’ll see you later, then.”
 
It was a breath of relief like the familiar bobbing of the boat.
 

2/15/13:
 
“Are you sure you want ‘ta go in?”
 
I peered into the bar and back at Reed’s face,
looking down at our conjoined hands. I nodded.
 
“Don’t we every Friday?”
 
Reed’s face contorted strangely
but then I lit up the joint again
and we each took a good hit
and we were giggling again
and he kissed me strongly.
 
“Yer right, of course, yea—“
 
And we glided through the doors.
 
If they were looking at us, I couldn’t tell.
 
A band was playing and a crowd was moving together
so that’s where I was, and Reed tagged along, and we did shots
and there was nothing, only thoughts shoved into the back of my mind.
 
Reed had the brightest face when he was happy
and that’s what I liked best about him.
 
He was a great kisser and a good friend
and within days we stuck to each other,
for comfort, for happiness, for company.
 
The first time we slept together involved good weed
and good music and good talk and so it was—
 
I forget everything else.
 
It was that familiar state I had grown fond of,
the empty euphoria—floating in numbness.
 
And I floated in that trance until the lyrics
and the guitar’s cry found and wrapped around me,
warmly, tightly, and I went still in the suffocating crowd—
 
“There was a world that I thought I knew,
but I’ve never met someone quite like you…
Days go by…if it’s a dream, I don’t wanna wake up…”
 
And it was the same song, the same band, the same boy, again and again.
We locked eyes and I went straight for the bar, looking for my sugar,
but the packets had torn in my pockets and spilled about like dust.
 
Spilled like the tears that were threatening
as George’s voice continued to float around the bar.
 
“Yer lookin’ for this, aren’t ya?”
 
Effie slid me a sugar packet across the counter and I went pink
and reached for it and nodded. “Oh…wow, thank you.”
 
I didn’t know how she’d react after hearing about Reed and I
and seeing us walk in and trip about each other in the crowd,
lips and bodies attached,
but she was just smiling, tipsy and amused by everything.
 
“Band sounds good tonight, doesn’t it?”
 
My throat went dry. “Yeah.”
 
Effie cracked into a grin.
 
“Aw, Kitty,” she ripped open the packet for me
and dumped it in the nearest drink, swirled it around
and took a good sip, made a funny face, handed it to me.
“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay. Right?” She laughed. “Okay!”
 
She rushed away and I worried for her briefly
but I couldn’t feel anything for long
as the drink went down my throat
and settled in my light stomach.
 
I knew Effie would act as if she couldn’t feel anything, too.
 
We were all such great actors,
such great liars, such slackers.
 
“Let’s get out of here,”
Reed muttered into my ear,
soon appearing out of nowhere.
 
His eyes were full of sadness—
Effie was leaving the bar.
 

That night, we would smash our bodies against each other,
skin to skin, bone to bone, moaning and violently
taking everything out on each other.
 
We’d come
to a mutual satisfaction
and we’d be still in bed
and we’d pretend tears
were not lingering too.
 
We would pretend and snuggle and feel equally sorry for each other
and with that the sleep came quickly and our eyes would shut.
 

 
2/22/13:
 
“It’s funny how something so perfect
came from sucha imperfect situation,”
Reed remarked, staring at Eden.
 
I wiped her mouth and continued feeding Eden
and smiled. “That’s my favorite thing about her.”
 
Reed leaned over to switch the record on the player
and as he did, the windows in my bungalow rattled.
 
Eden looked frightened and Reed looked to me.
“It’s just the tree branches outside,”
I murmured and he nodded.
 
We were both hiding out from whatever event went on tonight
and we did it without a word as to why.
 
Reed closed his eyes and looked peaceful.
With all my focus on Eden,
everything seemed to be.
 

The knock on the door was rapid and frantic and familiar.
 
Reed’s eyes were wide again and I carefully handed Eden
the stuffed animal I got her as I watched Reed get up.
 
“Should I put away the joint in case it’s Aimee?”
he asked, but I knew immediately that it wasn’t.
 
The feeling in my gut churned.
 
“Just answer it.”
 
He did, and the mop of hair in the doorway made my entire body hum.
 
He was dripping wet.
 
I hadn’t even noticed that it was raining.
 
Eden let out a cry of delight, which was funny—
the last she saw of George was 2 years ago when we’d babysit her together.
 
My voice was weak,
“What is it, George?”
 
And he looked briefly to Reed
before clearing his throat.
 
“I just got in from Dublin. Some lads are looking for you, Kat.”
 
He stepped into the light and I noticed his shaking hands.
 
“And?” I cleared my throat. “Could just be co-workers—“
 
“They’re not friendly.” He set his bags down and shook his head.
I realized his eyes were rimmed red like mine and he let out a heavy sigh.
 
“I’m sorry to barge in—”
 
“It’s s’okay—”
 
“I’m just tired of yer shite.”
 
My face went pink.
His had already been,
pent up with frustration.
 
Reed raised his eyebrows
and watched the record spin,
feeling ridiculously uncomfortable.
 
“Excuse me?” My voice was still small—
I just wished I could be defiant against him.
 
George buried his face in his hands.
“What did they do to you?” He shouted.
 
The room was still.
 
Reed was the first to move, and he went for Eden,
and he got her raincoat and then his own.
 
George watched and looked sick.
 
Maybe at the sight of his things
comfortably in my home—
at least I secretly hoped.
 
I felt sick.
 
“I’ll be out, then,” Reed murmured,
and he was, and the room was quiet again.
 
I counted the seconds before George spoke—
exactly 32 seconds—and he did softly,
scared, and somberly.
 
“What’d they do to you?”
 

I didn’t have an answer for him.
 

(Flashback / New York City)
 
“You’ve /got/ to leave, Kitty,” Sam cooed.
It was dark and we were hiding outside the apartment.
 
Sam wasn’t sure if the men would be waiting for his return
so he was trying to rid of me. I refused.
 
“I’m staying right here.”
 
He gave me a look of frustration before nodding.
“Fine. Duck behind that canister.”
 

I waited for what seemed like the longest time
and I realized how frightened I was.
 
I had come down hours ago,
and now it hit—Sam might not return.
 
I didn’t know where I was and I didn’t know what I was doing at all,
and that was enough to make me absolutely restless.
 

When he did return, he had another duffel bag—
it had my passport, some clothes, money, the laptop he had given me that morning for my birthday and most importantly, Ringo.
 
I started to cry.
 
Sam didn’t cry.
 
His hands were caked in dry blood
and he had some on his face.
 
I knew exactly whose blood it was
but I still whimpered,
 
“They killed him, didn’t they?”
 
I buried myself into Sam—
kind, warm and a savior, my Sam—
and we sat there in the alley until I stopped crying.
 
Sam still didn’t cry.
 
He was in a complete state of shock.
 
When he said, “You’ve /got/ to leave, Kitty,”
again, I knew how serious he was. I wiped my face.
 
“But I love you.”
 
Sam’s hands shook as he placed on the sides of my face.
“I adore you,” he whispered. “But they’re after you, baby.”
 
And that’s when he started to cry. He shook his head.
 
“I’ll find a way to pay off the debt,
but it won’t be with you, goddammit,
over my dead body.” He hid his face—
 
I held him in my thin, pale arms
and in the moonlight I stared into his eyes.
 
“Come find me when you have it all figured out,” I whispered.
“I’ll be in the same place, always.”
 
He carefully stood and helped me up,
fingers intertwined tightly.
 
“I love you, just remember alright?”
 
He wiped my face, grains of dirt and all,
and I studied his, all blood and sweat and exhaustion.
 
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispered.
“Did you ever think something like this would happen?”
 
I didn’t have an answer for him.
 

- sincerely, e. kat rigby.
 

 
INTENSE
 
p.s. none of this was edited/proofed
so excuse any lame spelling mistakes etc
 
it's 1 am i didn't do my homework i have to catch my bus in 5 hours WGNEAKSDFGHJKL

follow me / muse
 
www.sexydiary.tumblr.com
 
I'm seeing Muse in concert tomorrow
 
I'm super excited
 
If it wasn't for them and Kings of Leon in middle school idk how I'd be alive omg
 
IT'S GONNA ROCK
 
MATT'S MARRIED TO KATE HUDSON REMEMBER
 

that's completely irrelevant
 

-alex

www.sexydiary.tumblr.com
 
// soundtrack //
 
primadonna - marina and the diamonds
hang me up to dry - cold war kids
little things - one direction
back for you - one direction
losing you - solange (<-- yesss)
 
I’m choosing my classes for senior year already
and I’m planning on taking 4 APs
(NO MATH! NO SCIENCE EITHER!)
 
But yeah wow TIME
I always feel like I’m running out of it these days…
 
School is hectic
 
I’m so done
 
{MMN}
 
ANYWAY IT’S CAM
 
And this story has been stuck in my head for WEEKS
 
I wanted to mention everyone really, I just don’t want to ruin any plans!
But I’m in awe with all the recent stories,
I really love you all so much.
 
Hope your Valentine’s day was neat!
 
Now for Cam
 
IT’S SUPER SUPER LONG I’M SORRY
 
I skip the NYE party in Monaco because, well, Lilu already wrote for it
and also this would be WAYYY too long.
 
So there’s an “epilogue” and that’s supposed to be Cam after she’s begun treatment for her BD.
 
Mentioned are @emgeemtee and @mclovinn since this is Cam’s side of what they wrote
(both of you had mixed accounts for the xmas party but it’s cool,
I made it so that it made sense with Cam being drunk and all)
 
and also the lovely @lovelygabriella and the beginning of our collab
 
MUAHAHA
 
- - - - - -
 
December 19th, 2012:
 
“I'm sad to the core, core, core
Every day is a chore, chore, chore
When you give, I want more, more, more
I wanna be adored.”
 

 
“And that’s me ol’ school…
That’s me favorite restaurant!”
 
Niall turned to me and his face was as bright as the Christmas tree in Monaco.
“Joe’s Steakhouse, oh Jesus,” he gripped my hand tightly. “We ‘re goin’ there tomorrow.”
 
I smiled as my stomach turned to butterflies.
“Don’t smile so much, your face will hurt later,”
but I secretly wished his happiness would never end.
 
It didn’t, for the time being.
 
I could only snuggle closer to him in the uncomfortable bus seats
and feel comfortable in his company, in his arms,
and in the state of calm I was in.
 

It stayed, for the time being.
 

 
Once off the bus that had taken us from the Dublin airport
to a bus station in Mullingar, we were greeted with a mob.
 
Someone had ratted us out and the princess and the pop star
mounted off the bus nervously smiling
and the princess had guards
already waiting
in the shadows,
arms crossed,
eyes dark.
 
My personal guard, Anton, approached me at once.
He walked with a determined demeanor and smirked.
 
“Hello Princess.” I nodded and Niall looked suspicious.
 
“Yer gonna hover over Cams the entire trip?”
 
Anton’s smirk smudged on his face. “You will be thankful for my being here, trust me,”
he replied in his little French accent and soon he was blockading the mass of Irish girls who had come to see Niall.
 
He was kind and grinned and signed a few things but his eyes were wandering,
and soon settled on a petite strawberry blonde woman waiting by a little black car
with a very patient smile. His face lit up again and I couldn’t help but smile with him.
 
“Ma!” He tugged me over and his eyes watered
as he embraced his mother who was already crying.
 
His guitar case nearly hit her in the gut
so I took it from him and stood quietly.
 
“My baby,” she laughed. “Yer taller I think!”
 
“Fu*ck,” he pulled away and wiped his eyes.
“I hope me shoes still fit.”
 
Ms. Horan shook her finger. “The swearin’, Niall!”
But they were laughing together
as if in their own world,
no mass of people
behind them,
no camera
clicking.
 
“And ‘tis must be the girl yer runnin’ on about,”
her light eyes settled on me
and I felt very warm.
 
/Click/
 
“Hello,” I smiled carefully. “It’s nice to meet you—“
 
My extended hand disappeared under her massive hug.
“It’s finally nice to see ya!”
 
/Click, click/
 
When she pulled away Niall was beaming
and I realized he had his mother’s eyes,
and sweet smile and pink cheeks.
 
“Let’s get goin’ then, yea?”
His mother opened the trunk
and Niall threw our luggage in
as I stared all around us, lost—
 
“Niall, Niall, Niall!”
“Cam, I love yer hair!”
 
/Click, click/
 
“Ready t’ go Princess?”
 
I looked to meet the blue eyes
of the blonde with high-tops
and braces and a cardigan
and the best friendship.
 
I couldn’t help but laugh although I felt a strange heaviness
as if I were being weighed to the ground.
 
Niall twirled a piece of my short hair
and I breathed heavily.
 
Ireland was wet and the sky was gray.
It was nothing like the city.
 
“Always am.”
 

Niall’s father had the smile of a man who succeeded
in everything he wanted to do in life.
 
He looked at everything with this blissful look of satisfaction
and I blushed when I met him.
 
“Yer as gorgeous as Niall never shuts up about,” and I giggled.
Niall was pink in the face and cursing and talking more than ever.
 
I helped set the table for a homemade meal
that Niall hasn’t had in a whole year.
 
The only times he’s seen his family was on the road.
His parents are divorced so he always saw them separately.
 
But now he looked around in awe with wide eyes and his father’s smile.
 
“I wish Greg were here,” Niall suddenly said, and his mother winked at me,
signaling toward the backyard, and I grinned.
 
I felt light again—I didn’t have a worry or any fear.
I could only think of Niall’s happiness and how it affected me.
 
It was like handing out gifts in Monaco
or listening to a friend’s problems.
 
There was no room for anything else
and the thoughts sat in the back of my mind.
 
“Niall, show me around, will you?”
 
He grinned. “O’ course, baby!”
 
He took my hand and his mother smiled big from the kitchen
where the scent of real food wafted out and hit Niall’s father,
who was stretched out on the couch looking satisfied.
 
When we got to the backyard, Niall was still blabbering on—
“Me friends and I would always play football out ‘ere, I’d—“
 
He spotted Greg laid out on a lawn chair and exploded into laughter.
“You /fu*cker/—“
 
I stood by and watched them laugh and reunite
because it’s been about a year since they last saw each other.
 
“Did ya know ‘bout this?” Niall asked and I nodded.
 
Soon I was lifted off my feet and twirled
and left breathless. Greg smirked a bit
and then introduced himself.
 
Then I continued watching them interact
because it was like families in TV shows
and movies and it was hilarious and new.
 

It was during dinner that I came down with it,
the feeling in my stomach heavy and odd,
and I looked around the table sorry.
 
“What is it, dear? Did ya want more?”
Ms. Horan held up the plate of meat
and I shook my head quickly.
 
“No. I’m sorry. I—“ My eyes filled.
What had made me feel so warm and happy
suddenly made me feel stuffed and suffocated.
 
I couldn’t stand the way Niall’s parents laughed together even though they were divorced
and every time Niall laughed with his brother I was shot down by it,
again and again, and I couldn’t describe it except to say it was
consistent.
 
“I feel lightheaded,” I murmured softly.
 
“Must be some jetlag, ‘das all,” Mr. Horan said carefully.
 
Niall was already looking at me as if I were dying in front of him.
 
He held my hand tightly. “Maybe ya oughta get some sleep,” he said softly.
“Cameron has trouble sleepin’. Didn’t sleep on the plane.”
 
“Well, yer excused dearie, don’t ya worry!”
Their smiles were too sweet.
 
Niall led me to his childhood bedroom and tucked me in the bed.
 
He smiled, “The bed’s smaller than I remember,”
but it wiped off quickly when he looked me in the face
and his lips pouted and his eyes were wide and worried.
 
“Do ya think yer meds will help ya sleep?”
He whispered as if we were discussing a secret.
 
I looked at his sad, hopeful face lit by the setting sun
and thought of the love waiting for him in the next room
and the love I carried for him with every inch of my body
and realized the two went hand in hand, not different at all.
 
I met him nearly a year ago and never thought I would
cling to him the way I did now. I knew it was dangerous.
 
“I hope they help with a lot of things,” I said back.
“I’m really sorry about this.”
 
He shook his head. “S’not a problem at all, Tatie. You needa rest.”
 
He kissed my forehead and it seemed to burn.
 
“Plus now you don’t haveta see me eat so much
and me brother will stop hittin’ on you,” his smile sent
a wave of comfort to me and I melted in the bed sheets.
 
His smile cloned itself on my own lips. “Night then.”
 
“Sleep tight.”
 

 
I shuddered awake to the darkness of a small, warm room.
 
Only a crack of moonlight peeked through the windows' blinds
and it was enough to see the side of Niall's face when he shut the door.
 
"I didn't wake ya did I?"
 
His accent seemed to have grown stronger since we landed
and it made me smile wearily. "Not at all. I just can't seem to stay asleep."
 
I watched as he quickly stripped down to only boxers
and rushed into bed with me, flying the covers over our heads, shivering in the cold.
 
"Mmmm, yer so warm."
 
He buried himself into my side and I did the same,
surprised, as always, at how well we fit into each other.
 
Minutes went by before I whispered,
"Do they like me?"
 
I was talking about his family—
they were in bed now, quiet.
 
Niall hadn't been saying anything, which meant something was off.
He stayed hidden in my skin until he tilted his head so I could see his mouth only.
 
"O' course," he mumbled. "How could dey not?"
 
I stayed quiet and let my thoughts fly by one by one.
 
The image of Niall's mother tearing up in content
and worrying if I didn't have enough food, the family together,
stuffed in one room happily—too much food and too many inside jokes.
 
It suffocated me only because it could not make me happy.
It made ever so sad and it killed to even think about letting Niall know.
 
Happy families always made this way, it made me think of my own family, or my lack of one.
It made me think of my dead mother and my father who might as well be.
 
I remained quiet, allowing it all to take over.
 
Even though I knew I shouldn't—
I knew it was a poison—
 
I still sat there, a victim.
 
And suddenly, his voice broke through
a fragile barrier in the bed between us.
 
“I wish I could take all yer sadness away...”
 
His voice came out quivering and small
and even in the dark, I could make out
the pool of glinting sadness in his eyes
that met my own, unwillingly.
 
He looked away quickly.
 
Something had been picking at me for the longest time
and when Niall revealed his kept secret,
I completely fell apart.
 
“Niall,” I whispered faintly. “What is it?”
 
Tears fell from my eyes quickly as he pressed his face to my skin,
trying to keep it down as it crept up his throat.
 
“I…oh, Cams, I…” he drifted off, choking and hurting.
 
“Tatie, please,” I begged weakly.
 
Something pounded in my skull
and I could barely think clearly.
 
His body shook and then he whispered,
“It’s mum…she m-might ha-have a t-tumor.”
 
I felt my body become stiff and my blood seemingly curdled, fingertips gone cold.
 
“Oh, no,” I murmured.
 
I suddenly had the picture of the kind, friendly woman
who had greeted me as if I were her long lost daughter
with a tight grip on my body and a contagious smile.
 
I couldn’t get it out of my head—
a healthy, glowing person and
a dark, consuming sickness.
 
I let him cry it out because I didn’t know what to do.
 
I sat with him and our death sentence, fearing the future
until he turned to me with his sad baby face.
 
“H-How a-am I s’pose ta leave ‘er n-now?”
 
I bit my lip and wiped his tears.
“She’ll be alright,” I muttered.
“I know she’ll be alright.”
 
I couldn’t know for sure,
but it definitely felt right.
 
Just like Niall did.
 
He took me into his arms and flipped me over
so we were looking at each other desperately.
 
His mouth crashed into mine
and he moaned in my ear,
 
“Let’s just forget everythin’…”
 
And my heart raced,
“I’ve never had a girl in my room before,”
 
And it wasn’t until after I came to him
more intense and complete than ever before
that one last fear came to me, settling comfortably—
 
I had a feeling his mother would be okay,
but that was the only thing that would be okay.
 

December 23rd, 2012:
 
"Hang me up to dry
You wrung me out too too too many times."
 
“Where are you going?”
 
The morning sun cast on Niall’s face and he smiled wearily.
 
“Quick radio interview, ‘das all. Be back in a few,”
his kiss tickled my skin and my sigh shook my body.
 

I was still feeling low.
 
The only person in the house was Greg.
 
I wasn’t sure if he was really flirting with me
or if that was just his humor. Either way, it sucked.
 
I missed Elle’s humor and the city’s smell.
Ireland was still dreary and it didn’t help.
 
Greg tried normal conversation but it worsened.
He cautiously said, “So you’re going to meet that doctor later?”
 
I nodded over the soggy cereal I avoided.
 
He nodded back. “That’s good. He’s supposed to be the best in the country.”
 
I nodded again. The tap in the kitchen was leaking.
 
/Plop/
 
“And your mother’s seeing someone today too, right?”
 
Greg’s face went pink.
 
/Plop, plop/
 
“Ya.”
 
“She’ll be fine.”
 
/Plop, plop/
 
“You know, Niall’s never brought a girl home before,”
 
/Plop/
 
“…must be serious.”
 
/Plop, plop, plop/
 
“Will you excuse me?”
 
I had nothing to do. But that was good.
If I were anywhere else, I’d have to do something.
 
But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to move.
 
I didn’t even cry, I just went back to bed and lay there alone,
and it was cold, and I was unhappy, but at least I could be.
 

 
“Bulimic”
“Bipolar disorder II”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder”
 
The names dropped like bombs.
 
I knew it was bad, but not that bad.
 
I hated to hear Niall describe what could have been “episodes”—
 
“One minute she’s on top o’ the world,
flirtin’ and doing everythin’ nonstop…
Then she doesn’t want ‘ta get out o’ bed
and she’s hopeless and it hurts ‘ta see.”
 
And when he left—
 
“Have you ever committed suicide?”
“Cameron, it’s just us. I /can’t/ tell anyone.”
“No, I won’t tell him. I /can’t/ tell him.” He handed me a tissue.
 
“Then yes. Yes, I’ve wanted to kill myself before.”
 
“Good. Okay.” He wrote something down.
 
“Good?”
 
“No, not good. But it will be good.
I know how to help you, Miss. DiVello.”
 
I knew it was bad, but not that bad.
 

I had a list of medications to take with me to the city
and that was not the baggage I usually carried.
 
Hearing everything that had to be said
made me angry and I was no longer sad,
but upset, and I wanted to rage at everything.
 
This was inconvenient since I was in Niall’s home
and everything was so nice and opposite to how I felt.
 

Niall came home pumped as ever because he had Nando’s
and good news for his upcoming tour.
 
They would visit Japan for the first time and even Brazil
and have a stop in Africa for a charity.
 
He didn’t even notice me packing my things
and when he did, his hand touched mine.
 
“Whoa. Where ya goin’ der baby?”
 
“Home. For the little time I have to be there.”
 
“You said you’d stay for the holidays,”
his eyebrows furrowed.
 
“I forgot about the Rivera party,” I lifted my suitcase off the bed
and it landed on the floor with a thud. “I want to be home.”
 
“You don’t like it ‘ere?”
 
“I like you. And your family.”
 
“You don’t like it here,” he sat on the bed with his arms crossed.
“Is this about your visit to the doctor’s—“
 
“Don’t,” I said, hand up.
 
“Don’t what?”
 
“Don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of psychopath.”
 
My eyes already filled and I tried to not look at him.
“Cams, I just want ‘ta make you happy and we haven’t even—“
 
“I’ll be happy at home,” I started for the door. “You can come if you want.”
 
He shook his head. “I’ve gotta concert with the boys tomorrow.
You know that.”
 
“Connor’s waiting.”
 
“/Connor/? What’s he doing ‘ere then?”
 
“I asked him to pick me up,” I frowned.
 
“’Das great. Go, then, don’t wanna keep the fella waiting.”
 
“Niall—“
 
“Go!” His face was pink.
 
I clutched at my bags tightly and started to yell.
 
“Why are you mad at me? I can’t sit here waiting around for you
to finish show after show like some kinda fu*cking groupie, Niall!
That won’t do me any good! I need to get out while I can! I…I—“
 
The duffel bags fell to the floor at my feet and I covered my face to cry.
I was suddenly thankful for the empty house and thankful for Niall and overcome with guilt.
 
“I’m sorry, I just—“
 
“No, yer right, Tatie, yer right, I’m sorry.”
 
He was as sad as I’ve been since we landed
and for that I would never forgive myself.
 
“Lemme get yer stuff,” and reached for everything and walked me out.
Connor was waiting there in a taxi like he said, loyal and nice,
and Niall waved lamely and pouted and it was raining.
 
I watched as he put my things in the trunk
and paid the driver without being asked.
 
I thanked him profusely and he kissed my forehead.
Other than that, I didn’t know what to say, or do.
 
I wanted to go back inside and stay in bed with him.
 
But in the morning he’d have to leave
and in the morning I’d still be me.
 
“If you were wonderin’, me mum is fine by the way,”
he told me with a shiver. “She’s alright. False alarm like ya said.”
 
“I told you she’d be.”
 
“Are we alright then?”
 
/Drip, drip, drip/
 
The rain picked up.
 

 
“Hey, Connor?”
 
He switched the light above us on and leaned back into his seat,
looking quickly at his crossword puzzle and then at me.
 
“What is it?”
 
“Did you write about…that night? On the balcony?”
 
He chewed on the inside of his cheek like he always does.
“The one I said we’d never talk about again?”
 
I nodded. He put the paper down and sighed.
“Yes—“
 
I tensed.
 
“—but not for the book. For myself.”
 
“You promise?”
 
He nodded. “I swear.”
 
“Okay.” I looked out the window.
It was only a black ocean, nothing to see.
 
“I told you it’s about your recovery,”
Connor added, still looking at me.
 
I laughed bitterly. “What recovery?”
 
He rolled his eyes and opened the paper.
“I’m waiting on the ending,”
he nudged me. “No rush.”
 
I smirked.
 
I liked the way his leg felt against my own.
He was warm and kind like everyone else I love.
 
“2 words…to go crazy…”
 
I looked back out the window.
 
“Run riot.”
 
He paused and filled the spaces.
Then he smiled. “Good one.”
 
I looked at him and then back out the window again.
I’d do that hundred times but I wouldn’t fall asleep.
 
I liked the way his leg felt against my own.
 

December 24th, 2012:
 
“We used to kiss all night but now it's just no use
I don’t know why I fight it, clearly we are through
Tell me the truth boy, am I losing you for good?”
 

I was dying to see one special person
and I was positive she’d make everything better
like she always did—when my problems were simple.
 
Like the fact that half the school wore what I wore,
or that my history teacher gave me an A and not an A+.
 
“I came early to see you,” I greeted Elle,
and she hugged me tightly and it surprised me
but I was certainly glad to have received it.
 
I didn’t want to let go.
 
She still smelled like her shampoo and just that little fact—
that she would always smell the same no matter what—
absolutely rooted me to the ground.
 
“You look hot!” she exclaimed,
and I could feel my head get bigger.
 
I complimented her right back, looking better than ever,
and she acted nonchalant as she told me George picked it out.
 
Just the thought of good ol’ Georgie sent me
in a whirl for the past, the good ol’ past,
where nothing was ever too bad
and everything stayed at bliss.
 
We would always get over the bump in the road,
and the road would go on, except now we were lost…
 
Or was I the only one who took the detour?
 
I simply scanned Elle and the room for any signs of change
but it was the typical, chill Rivera abode I know and love.
 
“Niall couldn’t make it,” I found myself saying.
“He’s doing a show somewhere in England, I think….”
 
A pang rang through my body.

Suddenly a familiar voice came out of nowhere with his mouth full of food
and a shot or two of something in his hands ready to down.
 
“Shame! I like that guy. Told him he could borrow a record or two.”
 
I studied Rivera with a quick scan, naturally,
noticing he was in a suit and not being a bugger about it.
He looked nice in it like he always did. I wanted a shot. Or two.
 
I took one from him and we downed it together.
 
“Rivera.”
 
“DiVello.”
 
I took another shot and shook my head fast,
feeling some kind of addictive rush.
“Damn, these are good,”
 
and he laughed,
and so did Elle,
 
and I knew exactly what I’d be forgetting tonight.
 
(Every thing)
 

 
I watched Elle walk away fiercely, shaking off whatever
she had let Oliver Dumont stick to her and it left me in thought,
tipsy and bored, and looking about the penthouse with a strange hunger.
 
I barely recognized anyone and it seemed I was reaching for a concoction
every time a stranger blurred past me. I was slightly suffocated, slightly bored.
 
I knew the moment Nate and Robert came into view
that I was in for trouble. They carried me, arm in arm.
 
“Hey! Watch it!”
 
“We’re kidnapping you, Princess,” Nate chuckled in my ear.
 
“To hell you are!”
 
“If that’s where you wish to go,” Rob smirked, “Then hell it is.”
 
He pressed a glass to my lips
and Nate lit something
that sent a perfume to my nose
and I giggled and leaned back into the couch.
 
“What was I thinking—leaving my boys behind?
My city?” I closed my eyes and swam in my head.
 
The drinks made my skin tingle, my stomach bubble.
 
I opened my eyes and there he was, all frown and sad eyes,
standing at the front of the party like a lost puppy.
 
It was then I noticed that Rob had his hand on my exposed thigh
and Nate was murmuring in my ear, higher than the Empire State building outside—
 
“You know, I think we should /really/ steal you…
climb into one of those submarines they have in Monaco…
and we could just ride it back…you know? It’d be nice…You’d like it.”
 
“Niall, what are you doing here?” I stood, I wobbled.
 
“Came to surprise ya,” he murmured. “But yer busy I see.
I’ll just make me way out then—“
 
“Niall, wait,” I followed him through the crowd,
forming itself for us. “Where are you going?”
 
“Home,” he shook his head. “Shouldn’t have left.”
 
“Niall!” I collapsed myself against the wall next to him
where he stared at me, wide-eyed and surprised.
“You can’t leave.”
 
“And why not?”
 
“Because,” I huffed. I tried to catch my breath.
It was as if I ran a marathon. Or swam from Monaco.
“Because…there’s fun here. And drinks. No one’s frowning.”
 
“Cams—“
 
“Please don’t frown,” I held his hand in mine.
“Let’s just have a good night before I have to go, okay?”
 
Niall nodded solemnly. “For you, ‘den.”
 
I leaned against him and our lips met instantly.
Then we parted—he went to the bar
and I went towards the music.
 
(insert rest of crazy night with Ashley:
http://www.polyvore.com/bang_shot_you_down/set?id=70323600)
 

 
I woke up to throw up.
It was three in the morning.
 
The party was done and the penthouse seemed empty.
I looked around and saw Niall in a chair sleeping,
completely passed out, completely done.
 
I started to cry. I left the room before Niall could wake up.
Elle was downstairs and we said goodbye although I didn’t want to leave her.
 
As soon as I did, I started to cry again, pathetically,
and I cried quietly, alone, in the cold dark city
until I was at my old spot in Central Park
and someone called my name.
 
“Cams!”
 
I buried my face in my hands.
 
When he approached me,
he was huffing,
pink cheeks,
wet eyes.
 
He rubbed his hands together.
He had a coat on and I only had a dress.
 
I realized I was alone in public for the first time in months.
 
“Tatie, what do ya think yer doin’? It’s freezin’ out ‘ere.”
He wrapped himself around me and I coughed.
 
He held me as I hiccupped and went still in his arms.
 
“Do you remember our dates in the city after work at the café?”
I whispered. I could smell the pretzels and feel the warm summer sun
as I thought of it all, but it all seemed so far off, as if I dreamt it all—
 
Niall nodded and murmured,
“You were very tan and I was fallin’ in love with ya,”
he laughed softly. “I was sucha fool fer you…” he drifted off.
 
My throat felt strained.
 
When I pulled away from him,
we both knew what would come,
but we burst into tears anyway and I struggled.
 
“Niall…”
 
“Please,” he shook his head. “Don’t say ‘et.”
 
I ached for his warmth as I hugged myself and wiped my tears.
There was no wind, no rain, nothing but stillness and sadness in the night.
 
“Tomorrow I’ll be put on medication,” I cried. “I don’t even know who I am anymore
and you can’t just…stick around.” I crossed my arms. “I won’t let you.”
 
“Cams, yer just tired…”
 
“Yes,” I sighed. “I am. And you should be too.”
 
Without a word, he stepped to my face
and cupped it in his hands and angrily said,
 
“Yer just doin’ this because ya really love me,” he whispered.
“You realized it and ya won’t let yerself have it. I love you. Don’t do this.”
 
I blinked back tears and stepped away from him.
“You don’t deserve this, Tatie. You’ll let it go.”
 

Leaving the park, he called out my name,
again and again, and I never felt so cruel.
 

I was relieved.
 
I had the slightest bit of control again.
 
I was completely heart broken, again,
but I was in control and I told myself I wasn’t.
 
I also told myself not to cry,
and to go to my old apartment,
to tuck myself in and try to sleep.
 
I never did listen to anyone though.
 

- xoxo, Cam
 
(insert NYE party, link to Lilu's story previously posted)
 
epilogue:
 
http://pastebin.com/SxqsHvCj
 
(IT'S VERY VAGUE)
 

I'm so done with Cam tbh
i'm sad mostly because i know a lot is about to happen
 

also I'm very done with MMN becoming a 1D fanfic so uh
 
Yeah