Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Stages This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Stage 1: Denial


You sit waiting outside the dressing room. She twirls modeling a flashy, colorful bikini. You clap and nod in approval. She retreats back behind the tattered curtain. You blink wondering why your stomach suddenly aches. She emerges beaming, hanger in hand. You hesitantly follow her lead out. She casually loops her arm in yours. You flinch from the electricity. She raises an eyebrow confused. You shake it off as nothing. She nods and starts chatting endlessly. You can’t be feeling this way about her.

Stage 2: Anger


You both have rings now, proving you don’t belong together. If the band had on your finger sooner none of this would be happening. You hate your soon-to-be spouse for being so indecisive. You hate that damn halo for glistening so brightly, telling the world the lie of your happiness. You hate her for being so likable, able to put a smile on anyone’s face without saying a word. You hate yourself for feeling this way. You hate everything.

Stage 3: Depression

You haven’t gone to work in a week, the answering machine is full. They say if you don’t call back then you’re fired. You don’t care. She came over today, fiancé close behind. She asks if you’re okay. You don’t speak. Her hand grazes your forehead, creating the butterflies you so desperately want to rid. Her touch lingers as she repeats the question. You don’t move. She whispers something to her fiancé, he leaves. She sits beside you and begins singing softly. You don’t understand. Her embrace around you is friendly, the singing starts to fade. Her mouth forms a sad smile and your vision becomes blurred. You don’t cry. She holds you for what seems like forever, singing that soft melody. She doesn’t leave until you are in a deep slumber. You don’t cry.

Stage 4: Acceptance


You gasp when she sticks her tongue out playfully. You cross your eyes and pucker your lips. You giggle unknowingly at the childish game. You love how she acts five, rather than twenty-five, just to make you smile. You poke her side and she pokes back declaring war. You cease fire giving her time to catch her breath. You glance up at the vibrant sparks. You love how the simplest of things make her happy. You watch as she squirms with excitement. You sigh while leaning further back in the chair. You close your eyes just as realization sinks in. You love her.

Stage 5: Love


You called off the engagement today, surprisingly no questions are asked. The trinket slides off with ease, sending tingles throughout your body. You call her when you get home, she says she’ll be there in ten minutes. You pace around the small loft nervously, your legs are burning from the new workout. There’s a knock on the door, another shiver arrives. You let her in, fumbling while turning the knob. Silence takes over, the air is thick. You tell her it’s important, she nods waiting patiently. You stutter, your head throbbing. No one moves, the room is quiet again. You blurt it out, the pounding starts to subside. A bird chirps outside, a great weight is lifted. You look up, she is on the verge of tears. You apologize over and over, letting the drops trickle. The bird tweets again, his tone proud. You hang your head in shame, the bashing begins again. Another peep, he flies off. You sob and beg for forgiveness, she murmurs three words. You look up shocked, replaying her statement. The bird returns, a flock in tow. You return her grin, resisting the urge to squeal with joy.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback