𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧 ᵂᴬᵀᴱᴿ.

Last Login:
September 28th, 2023




Gender: Female

Age: 13
Signup Date:
July 31, 2023


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09/25/2023 05:28 PM 

your necklace hanging from my neck.

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
Under a vast canopy of twinkling stars, the beach stretched endlessly, bathed in the gentle caress of the moon's silvery embrace. The sands, cool and fluid beneath Belly's feet, seemed to murmur ancient tales with each ebb of the tide, tales that hinted at love, age-old yearnings, and the intricate dance of destiny.

Dangling from her neck was a sapphire pendant, its brilliance amplified by the moonlight. It was a gift from Conrad, a memento of a shared evening—a moment in time they both would cherish. "Your necklace hanging from my neck," she found herself murmuring, her voice a soft serenade to the memories they were creating, "The night we couldn't quite forget..."

The bonfire a few paces away danced with wild abandon, casting an erratic glow on her face and weaving mesmerizing patterns on the sands. Each flame seemed to spark a different emotion—passion, nostalgia, hope, uncertainty. The gentle serenades of a distant guitar melded seamlessly with bursts of laughter, creating a tapestry of sounds that reflected the multitude of emotions within her.

Yet, even amidst this vivid panorama of sensations, the thought of Conrad stood out, like a lighthouse piercing through the darkest night. His words, his gestures, the depth in his eyes, and the subtle inflections in his voice were etched in her mind. Every mention of his name, Conrad, set off a cascade of feelings—each one more profound than the other.

A gentle gust of wind, carrying with it the salty promise of the ocean, tousled her hair. As it brushed against her face, she was reminded of Conrad's fleeting touch, the gentle caress of his fingers against her skin, and the electrifying jolt of emotions it had stirred.

"Why did you say that? About us being infinite?" she whispered to the universe, yearning for answers. Conrad's proclamation had been unexpected, leaving her at the crossroads of exhilaration and apprehension. The weight of the pendant against her chest seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her heartbeat, a steady reminder of their intertwined destinies.

The vast, enigmatic expanse of the sea mirrored the depth and tumult of her emotions. Waves, with their relentless pursuit of the shore, echoed her own desires, fears, and dreams. Each crashing wave, each receding tide, felt like a metaphor for the myriad emotions swirling within her.

As she inhaled deeply, the mingling aromas of the sea, burning wood, and fragrant flowers intoxicated her senses, drawing her deeper into her reflections. The universe felt expansive, limitless, and bewildering, yet Conrad's name, spoken or unspoken, served as an anchor—a comforting constant amidst the whirlwind of uncertainties.

With each passing moment, Belly felt herself drawn deeper into the embrace of the night, her emotions as vast and boundless as the universe itself. The sheer intensity of it all threatened to overwhelm her, yet the thought of Conrad, the very mention of his name, promised solace, understanding.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/23/2023 02:14 PM 

infinity.

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
Belly Conklin's room was an intimate portrait of her life journey so far—a tapestry of laughter, heartbreaks, and dreams. Faded pictures captured sun-kissed moments with friends, trinkets from unforgettable summer escapades sat on her dresser, and postcards—reminders of the world she yearned to explore—were pinned neatly next to her bed. As shadows played on the walls that night, her desk was a battleground. Stacks of textbooks, scribbled notes and highlighted paragraphs encapsulated the pressure of high school, making her shoulders droop slightly.

The sudden, intrusive chime of her phone broke her reverie. She grabbed it, eyebrows furrowing, only to see Conrad's name. She felt a curious tug in her chest. Indeed, he was about to share some new celestial wonder with her. But when she looked out of her window, there was no meteor shower or constellation. It was Conrad—his eyes twinkling more mischievously than any star, his smile wide and inviting, looking ridiculously comfortable on a plaid blanket.

A breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding whooshed out, and a giddy warmth enveloped her. The walls of her room felt suddenly constraining, as if they were keeping her away from a moment she didn't want to miss. She scrambled into her sneakers, haphazardly threw on her coat, and charged down the stairs, her heart drumming an exhilarating rhythm. The winter's chill greeted her as she burst out, but it faded against the fiery elation of seeing Conrad.

She leaped, not caring about grace or decorum, and he caught her effortlessly. "Conrad! What... how?" she stammered, her voice a cocktail of shock and pure joy.

His laugh resonated with warmth. "You know I love catching you off-guard."

Belly’s forehead creased slightly, "But on Valentine's? You always said it was just another day."

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze softening, making her heart skip a beat. "Maybe, just maybe, I wanted this 'another day' to be a day you'd never forget."

Their breaths fogged up in the cold, mingling as they stood close, a pair of teenagers sharing an unexpected moment on a February night.

Belly, with her fiery spirit and lingering insecurities typical of youth, felt a giddiness at the sight of the familiar plaid blanket and its simple setup. For her, the world was an ever-changing mosaic of emotions; tonight, those colors shifted unpredictably. Conrad's unexpected gesture brought the evening to life with vibrant hues.

When Conrad gestured towards the blanket, Belly observed the wear patterns on its fabric, the tiny threads that looked frayed at the edges, reminiscent of countless memories they had shared. The twinkling stars reflected in the silver body of the thermos and the unmistakable yellow packaging of the Twinkies brought an innocent nostalgia.

The world seemed to tilt as she lay down next to him, transforming into an expansive canvas of deep blues and silvers. The moon wasn’t just a celestial body that evening; it was a silent witness to their shared moments, casting a soft, silvery glow that made everything feel ethereal. The air, thick with anticipation, made her heart flutter in her chest.

A shiver ran through Belly's spine, not the biting cold of the night but an electric thrill born out of the unexpected intimacy of the moment. Sensing this, Conrad's fingers brushed against her arm as he adjusted the blanket, the touch light but laden with unspoken promises. His eyes, deep pools of concern and warmth, locked onto hers as he inquired about her comfort.

The aroma of the cocoa, as Conrad unscrewed the thermos, was not just a reminder of warmth. It was a throwback to countless winter nights; tales shared over cups of hot beverages, and the simple joys of shared silences. As the lukewarm liquid touched her lips, it ignited childhood memories—of simpler times and the comfort of familiar tastes.

"How is it?" Conrad’s voice held more than just a question about the drink's temperature. It echoed with the need for affirmation, a desire to make the moment perfect for her.

Belly's response, while about the cocoa, was also a subtle nod to their relationship. “It’s perfect,” she whispered a truth that transcended the situation.

The canvas of the night sky stretched infinitely above them, studded with a million glittering jewels. Each star seemed to hold a story, a dream, a secret. The universe's vastness was both humbling and intimate, making their shared silence profound.

“Feels like the world paused, just for us,” Belly's voice was thick with emotion, her words a testament to the depth of what she felt. Each moment, each breath was a dance of emotions—gratitude, wonder, and burgeoning love.

The vast expanse of the universe stretched endlessly above Belly, its profound depth beckoning her to get lost in its mysteries. Every star above seemed to twinkle with stories of old, whispering tales of galaxies far, far away. And as she lay next to Conrad, a surge of emotion, like an undercurrent in a mighty ocean, washed over her.

Conrad's fingers, rough yet comforting, entwined with hers, guiding her hand across the sky, introducing her to the age-old constellations. Each pinpoint of light was a testament to a time when gods and mortals danced together in tales of passion, betrayal, and courage. However, as Conrad painted myths of Orion and Cassiopeia, a familiar pang tugged at Belly's heart. Those very tales had been bedtime stories from her father, told under a similar blanket of stars. The memory was so vivid, so poignant, she could almost hear the deep timbre of her father's voice intermingling with Conrad's.

With its playful tendrils, the cool breeze caressed her face, bringing a faint rose hue to her cheeks. But it wasn’t just the chill that made her heart race—it was the sheer proximity to Conrad, the rhythmic cadence of his voice, the warmth of his body next to hers. His every word, filled with reverence for the cosmos, resonated with her deeply. It was like they were two souls, lost and now found under the very tapestry of the universe.

Conrad’s voice, laced with concern, broke her reverie. “Wanna go back in?” The tenderness behind those words made her insides flutter. But the enchantment of the moment held her captive. “I’m not going in until we see a shooting star,” she declared with a mixture of mischief and hope.

Her heart swelled as she felt Conrad shift closer, their shoulders brushing. His chuckle, warm and soft, sent shivers down her spine. The playful banter about "interplanetary dust" felt like their own little secret, a phrase that would forever be etched in her memory.

Time seemed to blur, and the biting cold was forgotten as they lay cocooned in their shared warmth. Belly felt a rush of emotion, a mix of longing, nostalgia, and contentment. This was a slice of eternity, a moment suspended between the past and the future. As Conrad's face inched closer, the anticipation was palpable, an electric charge in the air.

Belly didn't need a shooting star to make a wish; she was living her dream. This wasn't just a night beneath the stars. This was an ode to moments that leave an indelible mark on one's soul, moments that define the very essence of love.

Amid the sprawling velvet expanse overhead, a tapestry of starlight and cosmic wonder, Belly felt each pulse of her heart harmonize with the silent songs of the distant galaxies. As each star above shimmered and gleamed, they seemed to bear witness to the profound emotions unfolding beneath. The frigid embrace of the winter night threatened to creep in, but Conrad's shared warmth acted as a fortress, protecting them from the world outside.

The sensation of Conrad's warm breath enveloping her hand momentarily was a poignant reminder of their intimate connection, an ephemeral balm before her hand was safely ensconced within the cocoon of his coat pocket. His very essence exuded an ineffable comfort, a gentle reminder that this tiny island of shared understanding and mutual sentiment existed in this boundless universe.

Seeking to encapsulate the whirlwind of emotions, the magnitude of the experience, Belly murmured with a hint of awe, “The sky tonight... it feels as though we’re floating in the very heart of a planet, utterly immersed in this endless, breathtaking vastness.” The words, though earnest, barely scratched the surface of the depth of emotion she felt. In its silent luminosity, every star above seemed to nod in understanding.

Conrad, his voice tender, infused with a shared reverence for their shared moment, replied, “I always knew you’d understand.” Their closeness was palpable, a gentle gravitational pull drawing them together, where even the subtlest of shifts might plunge them into the intoxicating depths of a romance still unexplored. Yet, there was solace in the proximity, a serenity that made Belly's heart swell with gratitude.

Lost in the cosmos and cradled by the night, Conrad's confession was almost a sigh, a gentle exhale of truth: “I often wonder if I'll ever place my trust in another the way I trust you.” His gaze never wavered from the celestial ballet above, but the gravity of his words, the raw vulnerability, anchored them in the moment.

The weight of his sentiment struck Belly deeply, a symphony of warmth, surprise, and tender realization enveloping her. She allowed her eyes to flit to his face, illuminated by the gentle kiss of moonlight, capturing every nuance of emotion, every contour that spoke of introspection and sincerity.

While the universe continued its cosmic dance above, devoid of the expected brilliance of a shooting star, within Belly's heart raged a supernova of elation. The weight of the night, the profoundness of their shared moment, culminated in her heartfelt confession: “This... this is a moment that'll forever remain etched in the tapestry of my memories.”

The air around them was palpable with quietude and intimacy, interwoven with whispers of the gentle wind and soft murmurs of the night creatures. The entire universe seemed to have shrunk into this single, overwhelming moment shared between Belly and Conrad, illuminated under the symphony of stars above. Every heartbeat echoed, resonating with silent conversations, unseen emotions, and untold secrets, adding rhythmic cadence to the serene silence.

Belly could feel her soul stretched taut, absorbing the inexpressible myriad of emotions erupting within her, both uncharted and exquisitely familiar. Conrad's words, "Mine too," were more than echoes in the universe; they were harmonious chords in their shared melody, vibrations of unspoken promises reverberating through the dimensions of their shared existence.

The frosty tendrils of the winter night were but fleeting shadows, overshadowed by the profound warmth emanating from their intertwined destinies and interwoven breaths. Belly was acutely aware of the preciousness of these unadorned moments, the unsung whispers of time that often get lost amidst the cacophony of grand celebrations and significant milestones. The contrast between the mundane rhythm of her everyday life and this exceptional moment of shared eternity under the cosmos with Conrad enveloped her thoughts, rendering the mundane world a distant echo. "I was lost in a sea of mundane tasks and ordinary moments, and now...," her voice quivered, a teardrop hanging on the brink of eternity, "... now I feel like I've traversed universes, lived lifetimes, all in this singular moment with you."

Conrad's soft and resonant laughter mingled with the night's celestial music; his eyes, alight with the cosmic dance of the stars above, held reflections of endless universes. "It's the subtle whispers of existence, the silent symphony of the cosmos, that etches memories into the essence of our being," he responded, his fingers tightening around hers, searing promises into her soul.

Her gaze met his, eyes a kaleidoscope of wonder, gratitude, and unspoken love. "I was lost in the shallow depths of worldly desires, hoping for transient tokens of love. But you," her voice broke, the weight of her emotions intertwining with her words, "you've gifted me an epoch, an everlasting moment... it's like embracing infinity."

The ensuing silence was a canvas painted with unspoken words, entwined destinies, and the iridescent hues of their shared journey. The ethereal vastness of the firmament above seemed to narrate tales of their unspoken bond—a bond that, at that very instance, seemed as boundless as the multiverse itself.

Time, in its infinite journey, painted the canvas of the night with deeper shades. Still, Belly knew, with a conviction as deep as her soul, that this cold February night was more than a fleeting memory, more than a transient whisper in the continuum of existence. It was a timeless anchor, an everlasting echo of a night where the universe was reshaped, not with ephemeral materialistic entities, but with the eternal magic of the moon, the stars, and the boundless dance of infinity.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/18/2023 02:34 PM 

Everything's strange, you've changed

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long, golden shadows that stretched lazily across the expansive beach, as if the day itself were reluctant to let go of the warmth and beauty it had bestowed. To the west, the sea stretched out endlessly, its horizon shimmering like an elusive dream. Belly Conklin, a figure as familiar to this beach as the grains of sand beneath her feet, stood amidst a picturesque tableau of summer life.

The shoreline was a vibrant tapestry of human activity, a living collage of colors and sounds. Children, their laughter like sweet music to the soul, darted in and out of the gentle waves. Their tiny feet left behind a whimsical trail of footprints, as if marking their territory in this vast playground. With utmost dedication, they constructed sandcastles adorned with seashells and colorful plastic buckets brimming with dreams.

Families, huddled beneath a vibrant kaleidoscope of beach umbrellas, shared simple picnics. They laughed, their joy carried on the breeze, as they broke bread together and shared succulent slices of ripe watermelon. The air was filled with the aroma of sunscreen and salt, a fragrant reminder of carefree summer days.

Couples, deeply enamored, strolled hand in hand along the water's edge. The waves, like time itself, washed over their feet in a soothing rhythm, a reflection of the ebb and flow of life's joys and sorrows. Frisbees sailed through the air in graceful arcs, chased by carefree shouts and spirited laughter. Seagulls soared overhead, their cries an ever-present harmony, a part of the very soul of the beach.

Amid this idyllic scene, it was as though the universe had pressed the pause button on time for Belly Conklin. Her existence had become a vivid chiaroscuro, with the world around her alive with color and vitality while she stood in the stark contrast of emotional turmoil.

Barefoot, she stood with her toes buried in the warm, sun-kissed sand, grounding her in the present. Her heart, like a tempestuous sea within her chest, churned with a lifetime of emotions, the waves of which threatened to engulf her. She had spent countless summers on this very beach, but this day, this moment, was unlike any other.

Her gaze was locked onto Conrad Fisher, a man whose presence had been a constant in her life, shaping her summers and her heart. The sun, usually a gentle and comforting companion on these shores, now cast a harsh and unforgiving light on the turbulent sea of emotions swirling within her.

Tears welled in her eyes, glistening like diamonds as they clung to her lashes. Her voice, usually soft and melodic, now trembled with a potent mix of frustration and desperation. Her words, carried by the gentle breeze, were like whispers that held the power to reshape her world.

"I kept getting in his face," she confessed, her voice delicate yet unwavering, a fragile thread woven into the grand narrative of summer. "I wasn't going to let him walk away from me, not this time."

The breeze, typically a source of serenity, now seemed to carry her words to every corner of the beach, as if nature itself had conspired to make her emotions known.

The sand, too, seemed to hold its breath, as if aware that a turning point was imminent.

"You just want to keep me on this hook, right?" Her voice grew stronger, each word infused with a heady mix of anger and desperation. "So I'll keep chasing after you, and you can feel good about yourself. As soon as I start to get over you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves, "you just reel me back in."

The waves, once a soothing backdrop, now felt like a relentless reminder of the unpredictable ebb and flow of her relationship with Conrad. The sun, as it sank lower, painted the sky in hues of fiery red and deep purple, casting long shadows that stretched toward the water, like a portentous omen that this was a moment of reckoning.

"You're so screwed up in the head," Belly confessed, her voice bearing the weight of years of confusion, longing, and heartache. "But I'm telling you, Conrad, this is it." Her voice cracked once more, and the tears she'd been holding back spilled over, tracing salty paths down her flushed cheeks.

Belly's life, once a mosaic of carefree summers and beach memories, now hung in the balance. Her emotions, laid bare for all to see, represented the culmination of a story that had defined her existence for far too long. The beach, a silent and timeless witness to her coming of age, now bore witness to a momentous turning point in her life.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the beach bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight, Conrad Fisher remained silent. The weight of Belly's words, like a tempestuous sea, crashed over him, leaving him adrift in the turmoil of their shared history. His confident façade had cracked, and he stood there, his own heart laid bare amidst the timeless beauty of the beach they had both loved and fought on for so long.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/13/2023 10:09 PM 

A string that pulled me.

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
With the party supplies secured, the trio ventured into a lively party supply store that felt like a vibrant carnival of colors and festivity. It was a sensory overload of sights and sounds, a paradise of decorations waiting to transform an ordinary night into an unforgettable one. Shelves stretched high, adorned with an array of festive decorations. Balloons in every shade imaginable hung from the ceiling, forming a colorful canopy overhead. Streamers cascaded like ribbons of happiness, creating a sense of whimsy and joy in the air. And the enticing selection of snacks promised to satisfy every craving, with tantalizing aromas wafting through the aisles.

The store buzzed with the energy of customers, each seeking to inject a dash of merriment into their lives. Laughter and excited chatter filled the air, creating an infectious enthusiasm that was hard to resist. It was a place where happiness was sold by the armful, and the promise of a memorable night seemed more tangible with every passing moment.

Amidst the bustling atmosphere, Belly found it difficult to shake the heavy burden of guilt that had been gnawing at her since they had left the previous store. It was a weight that had settled deep within her, a dark cloud from their past that had never dissipated—the memory of Susannah's funeral.

Belly's voice wavered with a mix of hesitation and determination as they roamed the store, her eyes taking in the kaleidoscope of party supplies around her. She finally mustered the courage to broach the subject that had been haunting her thoughts. "I've been trying to figure out how to... say it. How to apologize for that day. Susannah's funeral."

Conrad, his eyes brimming with empathy, turned to her, ready to provide the comfort and understanding she so desperately sought. "Belly, you don't have to apologize for that."

Belly's voice trembled as she continued, her emotions spilling forth like a floodgate finally opened. "Please," she implored, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions, "just let me say this. I... I never meant to make that day about me. I was awful to you. I mean, I'm... I'm so ashamed of how I acted. It's just not how I wanted the day to go at all. I wanted to be there for you. That's... That's why I went to go find you in the rec room."

Conrad's response was a sigh, a mixture of understanding and a desire to ease her burden. "It's fine."

Tears welled up in Belly's eyes, glistening like tiny stars in the store's radiant ambiance. She continued to pour out her feelings, needing to release the pent-up guilt and sorrow that had haunted her for so long. "It's really not. It wasn't fine. And I... I saw Aubrey and... It's not like we were together anymore. It's not like I had any right."

Conrad's voice remained soft and filled with empathy as he reassured her, "Of course you did. I was having a panic attack. I just crumbled. Felt like I couldn't breathe. Aubrey was just the one who found me. I really wish it was you."

The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, and Belly's heart ached for him. She reached out, her fingers trembling, and gently placed her hand on his arm. Her voice was a heartfelt whisper, carrying the profound sincerity of her regret. "I wish I had been there too, Conrad. I'm so sorry I wasn't."

As the duo stood amidst the dazzling array of party supplies, a profound sense of connection enveloped them, transcending the vibrant decorations and lively atmosphere of the store. The weight of their shared experiences, the depth of their emotions, and the sincerity of their exchange all converged in that singular moment.

Belly's eyes, still moist with tears, locked with Conrad's, and for the first time in a long while, a genuine understanding passed between them.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/12/2023 01:57 PM 

natural to me.

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
Belly stood at her bedroom window, her fingers nervously toying with the frayed edges of the curtain. Outside, the sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The way the fading light painted everything in shades of honey and amber was a stark contrast to the turbulent emotions swirling within her.

"Why does he still have this pull on me?" she wondered, her voice a mere whisper to the quiet room as though speaking the words aloud could make sense of the storm raging in her heart. She felt as if she were caught in an unbreakable spell, one woven from the threads of memories, longing, and uncertainty.

"I don't want to see him," Belly confessed, her voice trembling with a mixture of longing and dread. The mere thought of facing Conrad again, of opening herself up to the possibility of their paths crossing once more, filled her with a sense of foreboding. Years had passed since they had been a couple, and in that time, she had meticulously constructed walls around her heart to guard against the pain of the past.

And yet, in the quiet recesses of her soul, there was a part of her that couldn't help but yearn for his presence. She couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of their shared history, the stolen glances, the secret smiles, and the way his eyes had always seemed to see straight through her. It was a longing that ran deep, an ache that refused to be ignored.

"I can't wait for it all simultaneously," she admitted, her voice breaking with the weight of her conflicting emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. The paradox was tormenting—simultaneously desiring to see him again and dreading the impact it might have on her carefully constructed life.

Belly's room was bathed in the soft, dimming light of the setting sun, casting long shadows that danced in tune with her uncertainty. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the occasional distant sound of waves crashing on the shore. She wished for a sign, a clear path forward, but all she had were her own jumbled thoughts and the memories of summers past.

A soft knock at her bedroom door startled her as if on cue. It was Taylor, her roommate and closest friend, a lifeline in times of emotional turbulence. Taylor's presence was a comforting balm, a reminder that she didn't have to navigate the stormy seas of her heart alone.

"Hey, Belly, are you okay?" Taylor asked, her voice filled with genuine concern as she entered the room. She knew her friend all too well, recognizing the telltale signs of inner turmoil.

Belly turned to face Taylor, her eyes reflecting the chaos within her. "I don't know, Taylor. I'm just lost in this never-ending whirlwind of emotions."

Taylor crossed the room and sat beside Belly, offering a comforting presence that was both reassuring and grounding. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know. Whatever's bothering you, we can figure it out together."

A fragile smile tugged at the corners of Belly's lips as she appreciated Taylor's unwavering support. "It's Conrad. He's back, and I can't stop thinking about him."

Taylor nodded knowingly, her empathy shining through her eyes. "Conrad has always had a hold on you, Belly. But remember, you also have a hold on your own heart. Don't forget that."

Belly sighed, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her emotions. "It's just so confusing. I want to see him again, to relive those memories, but I'm scared of what it might mean for me."

Taylor gently squeezed Belly's shoulder, her touch a comforting reassurance. "It's okay to be scared, Belly. But it's also okay to take chances, to follow your heart. You deserve happiness, and if Conrad is a part of that happiness, then maybe it's worth the risk."

The room grew darker as the sun disappeared below the horizon, enveloping them in shadows that seemed to mirror the uncertainty of Belly's heart. She knew that Taylor was right, that life was full of moments when one had to make choices that could change the course of their life. As she gazed out into the night, her eyes fixed on the distant stars that sparkled in the vast expanse of the sky, she couldn't help but wonder if the pull of destiny was leading her back to Conrad, whether she was ready or not.

As Belly stood at her bedroom window, thoughts of Conrad Fisher continued to swirl in her mind like a stormy sea. Conrad was a figure from her past, a chapter of her life she thought she had closed, yet his presence lingered like an indelible mark on her heart.

She remembered the first time they met as children, the innocence of youth, and the dreams of summers filled with laughter and shared secrets. Those early days were the foundation upon which her affection for Conrad had blossomed, a love that had persisted throughout her adolescence and into adulthood.

With his enigmatic charm and magnetic allure, Conrad had always been the unattainable dream she couldn't quite let go of. He was the embodiment of her childhood fantasies, the boy who had captured her heart with his smile and the way he had always made her feel seen.

Their high school romance had been a whirlwind of emotions, a rollercoaster ride of passion and uncertainty. But it had also been a time of growth and self-discovery, a period during which Belly had come to understand the complexities of love and the harsh reality of distance.

When they had parted ways, the pain had been searing, leaving scars on her heart that had taken years to heal. Yet, despite the heartache, the memory of Conrad had never truly faded. It had remained like an old photograph tucked away in the corners of her mind, a constant reminder of a love that had once burned brightly.

And now, Conrad's unexpected return had brought those buried emotions rushing back to the surface. The mere thought of seeing him again filled her with a heady mix of longing and trepidation. She wondered if he still possessed that same allure if his smile could still make her heart race as it once had.

But there was also a lingering fear, a fear that seeing Conrad again would unravel the carefully constructed life she had built with Jeremiah. She had grown comfortable in her relationship with Jeremiah, and the idea of revisiting the past, of rekindling the flames of an old love, was both enticing and terrifying.

As she grappled with her emotions, Belly couldn't help but wonder if Conrad had changed as well. What secrets did he hold now? What had life taught him in the years they had been apart? Did he still carry a piece of her heart, as she carried a piece of his?

Conrad was a complex and mysterious figure in her life, a constant presence even in his absence. His return had ignited a storm of emotions within her, leaving her torn between the past and the future, between the comfort of familiarity and the allure of the unknown.

In the quiet moments of introspection, Belly couldn't deny that Conrad still had a powerful hold on her. He was a chapter of her life she couldn't simply erase, a love she couldn't easily forget. As she looked out into the night, her thoughts were filled with memories of summers past, of stolen glances and shared laughter, and of a boy who had once held the key to her heart.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/09/2023 08:16 PM 

ghostin.

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
Belly stood frozen in the kitchen, an uninvited witness to the emotional turmoil engulfing the Fisher family. Conrad was mechanically opening a beer, his actions a stark contrast to the brewing storm. Mr. Fisher's voice reverberated through the house, an unsettling cacophony.

"What the hell are you kids playing at here?" Mr. Fisher's words struck like a thunderclap, making Belly's heart race. Her eyes darted around the familiar kitchen, now tainted by tension.

Jeremiah, her other close friend, tried to intervene. "Dad—"

Mr. Fisher's gaze fixed on Jeremiah, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief. "Sandy Donatti called me this morning and told me what happened. You were supposed to get Conrad back to school, not stay and—and party and interfere with the sale."

Jeremiah's confusion mirrored Belly's, and his voice wavered, "Who’s Sandy Donatti?"

Conrad's response was laced with bitterness, "She’s our real estate agent."

Belly felt her breath catch as her mouth hung open in shock. She hugged herself tightly, yearning to blend into the walls. A desperate thought flickered—could she and Jeremiah escape this chaos? Could they avoid revealing that she, too, had known about the house? The truth stung, even though she'd only learned it this very afternoon.

Jeremiah's eyes ping-ponged between his brother and father. "I didn’t know we had a real estate agent. You never told me you were selling the house."

Mr. Fisher, his composure crumbling, tried to explain, "I told you it was a possibility."

Conrad's voice was chillingly calm as he dismissed the argument, addressing only Jeremiah, "It doesn’t matter. He’s not selling the house."

Belly could feel the tension mounting. Conrad's voice turned frigid as he continued, "It’s not his to sell."

Mr. Fisher, weary and defeated, protested, "Yes, it is. I’m not doing this for me. The money will be for you boys."

Conrad's eyes bored into his father, his voice devoid of emotion, "You think I care about the money? I’m not like you. I could give a sh*t about the money. I care about the house. Mom’s house."

Belly's heart ached as she watched the family unravel. Jeremiah attempted to mediate, his voice pleading, "Conrad—"

But Conrad's resolve remained unshaken, his words a dagger through the silence, "You have no right to be here. You should leave."

Mr. Fisher hesitated, his voice trembling, his Adam's apple bobbing anxiously. "No, I won't leave."

Conrad's disdain was palpable as he uttered, dripping with sarcasm, "Tell Sandy not to bother coming back."

Mr. Fisher, his voice hoarse and filled with sorrow, reminded them, "I'm your father. And your mother left it to me to decide. This is what she would have wanted—"

Conrad's icy façade cracked, his voice trembling with anger, "Don't talk about what she would have wanted."

Belly gasped as Mr. Fisher muttered, his voice quavering, "She was my wife, goddamn it. I lost her, too."

Conrad couldn't contain his rage anymore. His fist collided with the wall, and Belly flinched, half-expecting a hole to appear. "You didn't lose her. You left her. You don't know the first thing about what she would have wanted. You were never there. You were a sh*tty dad and an even sh*ttier husband."

Desperate to quell the storm, Jeremiah implored, "Con, shut up. Just shut up."

But Conrad's anger was uncontainable, and he turned on his own brother, shouting, "You're still defending him? That's exactly why we didn't tell you!"

"We?" Jeremiah echoed, his eyes locking onto Belly's, an expression of betrayal etched across his face.

Belly stammered, trying to explain, "I just found out today, I swear—"

But Mr. Fisher silenced her, his voice heavy with emotion, "You are not the only one hurting, Conrad. You don't get to talk to me that way."

The room hung in a tense silence. Mr. Fisher's anger smoldered, but it was Conrad who refused to back down. Mr. Fisher was the one who eventually looked away, muttering about the movers returning, sealing the fate of the house.

As Mr. Fisher left, promising an ominous return in the morning, an eerie silence engulfed the house. Belly couldn't shake the unease gnawing at her, wondering what the dawn would bring and if this fractured family could ever find a way back to each other.

The Fisher kitchen, once a place of warmth and family gatherings, now felt oppressive. Belly stood in the center of this emotional storm, an unexpected guest in a world she never intended to be a part of. Her own home, with her mother and younger siblings, Steven and Taylor, seemed like a distant haven of normalcy compared to the tangled web of emotions and unresolved conflicts that surrounded her now.

Jeremiah's voice broke the heavy silence, a mix of disbelief and disappointment evident in his words. "I can't believe he's really selling the house," he muttered, his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the turmoil that had engulfed their lives.

Conrad's response was sharp, his frustration palpable, "Believe it."

Jeremiah's gaze locked onto Conrad, his tone growing more insistent with each word. "Why didn't you tell me about it?" He cast a fleeting glance at Belly, a reminder of the complex dynamics at play. "It's my house too."

Conrad's gaze briefly met Belly's, a moment of shared understanding, before he hung his head and leaned against the kitchen counter. "Jere, I only just found out myself," he confessed, a hint of regret coloring his voice. "I was at home, picking up some clothes. That real estate agent, Sandy, called and left a message on the machine, saying movers were coming to get the stuff they packed."

Guilt washed over Belly as she realized that perhaps she hadn't given Conrad the benefit of the doubt earlier. She exchanged a knowing look with Jeremiah, silently acknowledging their shared remorse. But then, it seemed Jeremiah remembered his anger toward her and turned away.

"So that's it, then?" Jeremiah's tone was a mixture of resignation and frustration.

Conrad, with a touch of resignation in his voice, affirmed, "Yeah, I guess it is."

Jeremiah's frustration couldn't be contained any longer, and his bitterness seeped into his words, "Well, great job taking care of all this, Con."

Conrad's patience wore thin, and he snapped back, "I've been handling this on my own. It's not like I had any help from you."

Jeremiah determined to defend his position, persisted, "Well, maybe if you'd told me about it—"

Full of disdain, Conrad cut him off, "You'd have done what?"

"I would have talked to Dad," Jeremiah asserted, his resolve unwavering.

"Yeah, exactly." Conrad's sarcasm dripped from his words.

Jeremiah pushed further, his frustration building, "What the hell does that mean?"

Conrad's anger flared, and he accused Jeremiah with growing frustration, "It means that you're so busy being up his ass, you can't see him for who he is."

Belly couldn't help but feel like a spectator in this whirlwind of emotions. The tension in the room was palpable as Jeremiah confronted Conrad about their father's actions and their complicated family history. It was a storm she hadn't expected to be caught up in, and she desperately wished she could find a way out.

Jeremiah's words cut through the air like a knife, his accusation sharp and biting. "I don't know, Con. Where were you?" It was a low blow, and the room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of the words hanging in the air.

Conrad's reaction was a mix of shock and disappointment. The room crackled with tension, and Belly couldn't help but feel like she was tiptoeing on a minefield, unsure of where the next explosion would come from.

Jeremiah challenged Conrad, his frustration reaching a breaking point, "Why can't you just let it go? Why do you have to hold on to all the sh*tty stuff that's ever happened to you?" His words were charged with emotion, and Belly could sense that he regretted saying them almost immediately.

Conrad's response was laced with bitterness. "Because I live in reality, unlike you. You'd rather live in a fantasy world than see people for who they really are." Belly couldn't help but wonder if Conrad was also referring to her with those words.

Jeremiah's accusations hung heavy in the air, adding to the intensity of the moment. His anger flared as he confronted Conrad, his words biting with resentment. "You're jealous that Dad and I have an actual relationship now. It's not just all about you anymore, and that kills you."

But Jeremiah didn't stop there. He continued to vent his frustrations, bringing up painful memories. "When things aren't perfect, instead of trying to fix it, he just decides to throw it away. And it's not just the house. You did it to Belly, too. You came to me; you f***ing begged me for my blessing to be with her. You know, when sh*t got tough, he couldn't handle it, and he dropped you."

Belly found herself caught in the crossfire as the brothers' argument escalated. She didn't want to be used as a pawn in their dispute. With frustration in her voice, she finally spoke up, "Don't use me to get at him, Jeremiah. You know what? I don't want to be a part of this, okay?"

Jeremiah's expectant gaze bore into her as if he wanted her to pick a side. Belly resented him for putting her in this position, torn between the two people she cared about. She struggled to decide whose side she was on, realizing that both were right and wrong in their own ways.

Jeremiah seemed to grow impatient with her indecision and lashed out at Conrad once more. "You're an a**hole, Conrad. You want everyone to be as miserable as you are."

Conrad, unfazed, couldn't resist a sarcastic jab. He clapped his hands mockingly and said, "Way to go, Jere. I mean, real classy." His tone dripped with cynicism, adding to the already tense atmosphere in the room. And with that, Jeremiah stormed out, leaving the room in a state of turmoil.

Belly couldn't help but watch from the window as Jeremiah got into his car and drove away. The realization hit her that she was left alone with Conrad, uncertain of what would happen next. Conrad's voice cut through her thoughts, offering a prediction, "He'll be back."

As Belly continued to watch Jeremiah's car disappear down the road, she couldn't shake the feeling that their world had just shifted, leaving her in a state of uncertainty and confusion.

Belly's words hung in the air, a reflection of her discomfort with the situation. She had spoken her mind, expressing her disapproval of the hurtful words exchanged earlier. "You shouldn't have said that stuff," she told Conrad, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern.

Conrad's response was casual, masking his own unease. "Maybe not," he conceded, but his gaze returned to the window, a sign that he was grappling with the consequences of his actions.

Attempting to lighten the mood, he tossed a beer to Belly, who caught it with surprising ease. Belly's attempt at appearing more mature as she took a drink of the beer didn't go unnoticed. "So you like beer now, huh?" Conrad inquired, his tone almost teasing.

Belly shrugged, trying to maintain her composure. "It's all right," she admitted, feeling a strange sense of grown-up responsibility. But she couldn't help but share a piece of her true self, adding, "I still like Cherry Coke better, though."

Conrad's almost-smile hinted at his understanding. "Same old Belly. I bet if we cut your body open, white sugar would come pouring out of you."

With a chuckle, Belly played along, responding, "That's me. Sugar and spice and everything nice."

But the tension remained palpable. Conrad's uncertainty about the situation was evident. "I don't know about that," he mused, hinting at his concerns about her role in the family drama. "I think you're the one who hurt Jeremiah's feelings."

Belly was left with a choice: to inquire further or divert the conversation. She chose the latter, taking another sip of her beer before asking, "What now?"

Conrad, always one to tease, kept her on the hook. "What now with you and Jeremiah or with you and me?"

Belly felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She couldn't deny the teasing, but she redirected the conversation to the more pressing matter at hand. "What now with this house was what I meant."

In that moment, as they faced the uncertainty of the future and the complexities of their relationships, Belly couldn't help but hope for a way forward, even if it meant navigating the unknown step by step.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/06/2023 06:03 PM 

it tugged at her heartstrings.

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
Belly stormed off to the kitchen, her frustration boiling just beneath the surface like a pot ready to boil over. The day had started with so much excitement and anticipation for her date with Cam at the drive-in, but predictably, Conrad's presence had turned it into a muddled mess. Conrad followed her, his footsteps echoing like a relentless drumbeat, a constant reminder of his intrusion.

In the kitchen, she tried to find solace in the mundane task of pouring a tall glass of grape Kool-Aid, her trembling hands betraying her calm exterior. She was determined to shut out the world and pretend that Conrad wasn't there, silently watching her every move. The kitchen itself seemed to come alive with its hum of the refrigerator and the gentle trickle of water as she filled her glass. Yet, in the midst of this, his voice sliced through the tension like a jagged blade. "Are you just going to ignore me?" he asked, his words carrying a tone of irritation that grated on her nerves.

Belly sighed deeply, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that ranged from irritation to curiosity. She didn't want to engage in this battle of wills, not now. "No," she replied reluctantly, her voice holding a hint of exasperation, "What do you want?" The words escaped her lips like an exhaled breath, heavy with the weight of their history, their shared moments, and the unresolved emotions that had haunted her for years.

He closed the distance between them, stepping into her personal space, and she could feel her heart racing as he leaned in too close for comfort. His breath, warm and erratic, brushed against her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. "Why do you have to be like that?" Conrad's voice carried a tinge of frustration, and the closeness of his presence was almost suffocating. "Can I have some?" he asked, his eyes fixed on her glass of Kool-Aid as if it held the answers to the questions that had been left unspoken.

Belly set the glass on the counter, her intention clear: she needed to break free from this strange encounter. She was about to turn away when he unexpectedly grabbed her wrist, a move that sent a gasp escaping her lips. Emotions swirled within her, an unpredictable mix of anger, confusion, and something else she couldn't quite define. "Come on, Bells," he urged, his touch cool against her skin.

She pulled her hand away abruptly, her voice barely above a whisper as she muttered, "Leave me alone." Her vulnerability was laid bare, and she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice, the rawness of her emotions.

Then, out of the blue, he hit her with a question that caught her off guard. "How was your hot date?" His words hung in the air, an incongruity in the charged atmosphere, a question that seemed out of place in the midst of their heated exchange.

Belly's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Excuse me?" Her voice was incredulous, her surprise and confusion evident in the way her eyes widened. It was a question she hadn't anticipated, and it left her momentarily speechless, her heart pounding in her chest.

Conrad attempted to downplay the situation, perhaps realizing the awkwardness of his question. "Okay, relax. We were just having a little fun." But her irritation remained palpable, and his attempt to diffuse the tension fell flat, like a feeble attempt to douse a raging fire.

"You guys are a**holes," she spat out, her frustration bubbling up like a volcano ready to erupt. She had expected more from Conrad and Jeremiah, and her words carried a mixture of disappointment and hurt, a reflection of the tumultuous emotions raging within her.

Conrad sighed, seemingly trying to defuse the tension with his plea. "Belly, come on." His voice had softened slightly, but it did little to quell the storm of emotions swirling within her. She was resolute in not letting him off the hook so easily, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

The pent-up anger within her couldn't be contained any longer. "All I wanted was to go to a drive-in with a guy that I think is cute and sweet, and... and you guys had to come and ruin it." Her voice quivered with emotion, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she voiced her deep disappointment. It was a vulnerable moment, and she couldn't hide her feelings any longer, her vulnerability exposed like an open wound.

"And us showing up, for, like, two minutes ruined that, really?" Conrad said, his tone carrying a hint of remorse. It was a moment of vulnerability for him, a rare admission of fault that caught her off guard. The apology in his words was like a small crack in his armor, a sign that maybe he wasn't as indifferent as he pretended to be, and it tugged at her heartstrings.

Belly's gaze hardened as she turned her attention back to Conrad, her anger unabated. "Grow up, Belly." His condescending remark fueled her frustration even further, and she refused to let him off the hook, her emotions a tempest ready to consume her.

Her voice dripped with frustration as she confronted him. "Why couldn't you let me have this one thing? Huh? Admit it. You knew what you were doing." She was adamant, unwilling to let him escape the consequences of his actions. Her voice trembled with the weight of her emotions, every word a testament to her frustration.

Conrad looked genuinely puzzled, as if he hadn't anticipated the depth of her emotions. "What? What was I doing?" His confusion mirrored her own, and for a moment, they were two lost souls trying to make sense of the tangled web of their feelings.

Her voice trembled with emotion as she let her frustration out. "Reminding me that you existed." Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their shared history and the unresolved feelings that lingered beneath the surface.

Conrad's face shifted, a mix of realization and uncertainty crossing his features. "I don't know what you're talking about." His response was laden with ambiguity, as if he was struggling to come to terms with his own emotions.

The exchange was charged with tension as she pushed back. "You cared where I was, who I was with." She laid bare the unspoken truths, forcing him to confront the consequences of his actions.

Conrad vehemently denied it, perhaps trying to shield himself from the vulnerability of the moment. "No, I didn't. I don't care." His words were like a shield, protecting him from the emotions that threatened to consume him.

Her anger flared, and she couldn't hold back. "Stop lying!" The accusation was sharp, a reminder of the tangled web they found themselves in.

Conrad's retort was biting, a reflection of his own frustration. "Stop being such a baby!" His words stung, adding fuel to the fire of their argument.

Unable to let it rest, Belly couldn't resist delivering a parting shot, a way to assert herself in this tumultuous exchange. "Oh, and you're such an adult? You spent your Saturday night crashing my first date for fun." It was a jab at his choices, an attempt to highlight the differences between them.

Conrad's response was curt, conceding defeat. "Fine. Fine. Forget it." His words held a note of resignation, as if he had realized the futility of their argument.

As she retreated from the kitchen, she couldn't help but retort, "Why don't you go smoke some more pot?" Her words were sharp, a parting shot that lingered in the air, a reminder of their differences and the choices they had made.

Conrad had the last word, hitting her where it hurt the most. "Why don't you go look in the mirror some more?" His comment cut deep, exposing her vulnerability and insecurity, a wound that had been opened during their heated exchange.

Leaving Conrad standing in the kitchen, she walked away, her emotions in turmoil. Cam and Jeremiah stared at her, their expressions filled with questions. Had they overheard their heated exchange? Did it even matter anymore? It was a moment of vulnerability, and she didn't want to expose it further.

"I get the next game," she declared, trying to shift the focus away from the chaos. She wondered if this was how old crushes withered away, fading with a whimper, slowly but inevitably—until one day, they were just gone. The uncertainty of it all weighed on her, but she refused to let it consume her completely. She took a step forward, determined to face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting her own insecurities.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/05/2023 01:10 PM 

Daylight,

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
The sun hung low in the sky as the car cruised down the familiar winding road. Belly sat in the front seat, her feet resting casually on the dashboard, her high heels discarded carelessly on the car's floor. Her mother looked elegant in a navy pantsuit and cream pumps, but it was the anticipation that hung thick in the air that made her heart race.

"Conrad's definitely coming today, right, Bean?" her mother inquired, her voice laced with hope.

“You’re the one who talks to him, not me,” Belly replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she couldn't wholeheartedly agree.

Belly glanced at her mother's reflection in the rearview mirror, her eyes filled with doubt. "I haven’t spoken to Conrad in a few weeks, but I’m sure he’ll be there. He wouldn’t miss something as important as this."

But Belly remained silent, the unspoken truth lingering. She couldn't help but wonder if her preparations that morning were in vain. Had she really believed he was coming? She had meticulously styled her hair, shaved her legs twice, and donned a new dress and painful heels. Deep down, she knew the answer.

As they arrived at the women's center, Mr. Fisher's question pierced the air, and Belly's heart sank. Had her mother heard from Conrad? The tension in the parking lot was palpable as they waited, watching the entrance expectantly.

"I haven’t heard anything new. When I spoke to him last month, he said he was coming," her mother replied, her voice tinged with worry.

"If he’s late, we can just save him a seat," Belly offered, trying to maintain a hopeful facade.

Jeremiah, the embodiment of strength and composure, decided it was time to go inside to accept the plaque on Susannah's behalf. The group watched him stride away, leaving them with their uncertainty.

"Maybe we should go in too," Mr. Fisher suggested, resignation etched on his face.

Belly nodded in agreement. "You guys go ahead. I’ll wait."

Alone on the curb, Belly's feet ached, mirroring the ache in her heart. Ten minutes dragged on, and the hope she clung to began to wane. It seemed Conrad wasn't coming after all.

Then, as if in a dream, she spotted him. Conrad, standing in the back, clad in a gray suit. Her heart leaped, and she waved excitedly. He waved back, and a spark of joy ignited within her.

But when Jeremiah cleared his throat beside her, she jumped, momentarily forgetting his presence. For a fleeting moment, everything else faded away.

In that suspended moment, as Belly stood caught between Conrad's arrival and Jeremiah's presence, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within her. The air seemed charged with unspoken tensions and unfulfilled desires, like an unfinished symphony waiting for its crescendo.

Mr. Fisher was the first to approach Conrad, embracing him warmly. Her mother followed, and even her brother welcomed him with a hearty pat on the back. Finally, it was her turn.

"Hi," she stammered, unsure of herself, her hands hanging awkwardly at her sides.

Conrad's gaze held a mixture of amusement and challenge as he opened his arms wide. Hesitantly, she stepped into his embrace, feeling the strength of his hug and the laughter that bubbled from those around them. It was a moment of connection, a reminder of their shared history.

As Belly stood there, locked in Conrad's embrace, she couldn't help but reflect on the undeniable truth. Because, deep down, she knew. She knew he was coming and believed it with every fiber of her being.

Her mind raced back to the early hours of that morning when she had taken extra care with her hair, meticulously styling it until it framed her face just right. In the shower, she had shaved her legs not once but twice, an act of devotion to perfection, just to be safe. And when she stood before her closet, she had chosen that new dress, the one that clung to her figure in all the right places, and those heels that made her feet hurt, but her heart soar.

She hadn't done all of that for mere hope; she had done it because she knew. She knew he was coming. The certainty had driven her preparations, turning ordinary moments into cherished memories. The warmth of Conrad's embrace now reaffirmed that knowledge, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history and the unspoken promises it held.

"Conrad's glad to have his little sister around again," Mr. Fisher chimed in jovially, unaware of the past between Conrad and Belly.

Conrad's mischievous smile returned. "How have you been, little sis?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"Great," she replied, her eyes drifting to Jeremiah, her heart heavy with uncertainty. "We're really great."

Jeremiah's silence and how he diverted his attention to his phone left a knot in her stomach. Was he upset with her? The emotional web between them grew more tangled with each passing moment.

As she stood there, caught between the two men who had played pivotal roles in her life, she couldn't help but wonder if this reunion would bring answers or more questions.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

09/03/2023 12:28 PM 

Oh, sea creature..

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
Belly Conklin had meandered away from the lively beach gathering, seeking solace in the peaceful ambiance of Conrad's mother's house by the shore. The scent of salt and sea filled the air as she ventured closer to the outdoor shower, its rhythmic water flow merging with Conrad's voice, which called to her like a siren's song.

With a playful, teasing tone, she called out to him, "Oh, sea creature... Where are you?" Her voice carried the lightness of a long-standing bond that had, over the years, grown into something more.

Conrad's response, though unexpected, elicited a soft chuckle from Belly. "Uh, I'm in the shower," he replied, and Belly couldn't help but imagine the scene unfolding beyond her view.

But it was Belly who gently reminded him, her voice carrying a playful and optimistic tone, "But we still got margaritas to drink." Her words were like a refreshing breeze, infusing the moment with a sense of fun and anticipation, reminding them both that the day was far from over.

As Conrad continued, there was a hint of resignation in his words, acknowledging the departure of their friends from the beach gathering. Belly's nod of agreement was only a mental gesture hidden from Conrad's view. "Okay, well, I can't drink it in the shower. Can you just put it down, and I'll get it after?" His words echoed Belly's light-hearted nature, and he couldn't resist joining in on the infectious playfulness, even though they were physically apart.

Their banter continued, and Belly couldn't resist teasing him further. "I've always liked you with wet hair,It's so... romantic." she confessed, her laughter bubbling forth like a spring of affectionate mockery.

Under the cascade of water, Conrad appeared genuinely puzzled by her sentiment. "What's so romantic about wet hair?" he questioned, his voice carrying the curiosity of someone trying to decipher the mysteries of her question In response, she sighed with mock exasperation, her affection evident. "You just don't get it," she playfully chided him, the words conveying a shared history and an unspoken connection that transcended explanation.

He scoffed, but it was a friendly jest, a testament to the comfort and camaraderie they shared. "How many of those have you had?" Conrad asked, referring to the margaritas, their laughter bridging the gap between them.

Belly's response was light and filled with the carefree spirit of the seaside setting. "Two, five. It's... It's not important," she replied, her tone holding the echoes of summers past.

However, her curiosity got the better of her, and with a sly smile, she ventured into more personal territory. "Let me just ask you one thing, okay?" she implored, her eyes sparkling with hope and vulnerability.

Conrad, intrigued by her inquiry, gave his consent. "Go ahead," he invited, their friendship standing as a steadfast foundation for this candid conversation.

With a hopeful twinkle in her eyes, she asked the question that had been on her mind. "Did you buy me that infinity necklace for my birthday?" Her words carried a mix of anticipation and fondness.

Conrad's surprise was palpable, rendering him momentarily speechless. The silence was, in itself, a confirmation of her intuition, and the unspoken truth hung in the air like an electrifying secret between them.

"Can I please..." Conrad finally began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Can you give me some privacy, please?" He requested, his tone carrying a mix of vulnerability and a desire to collect his thoughts, aware that this pivotal moment had the potential to change everything between them.

Triumphant joy filled Belly's heart, and she couldn't contain her delight. "I knew I was right," she declared with a chuckle, their unspoken connection reaffirmed at that moment.

Sensing that Conrad needed some privacy, Belly reluctantly stepped back in her heart, filled with memories of summers spent together. She couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turns of the day, her thoughts as complex and intricate as the waves that lapped at the shore.

As she retreated from the shower, leaving Conrad to his thoughts and the soothing embrace of the cascading water, Belly couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

08/31/2023 03:33 PM 

once a solid anchor in her narrative.

clear water Girls aren't supposed to know if we're pretty or not. but isn't that bullsh*t? Because we're all beautiful in our own way.
these violent delights
The shoreline extended like a canvas, painted with the soft strokes of sea and sand. Seated on her favorite weathered towel, Belly's gaze was a distant one, fixed upon the horizon where the sky kissed the water. In this tranquil backdrop, a symphony of memories unfolded, and she found herself caught between the currents of certainty and doubt.

"I'm sure," her voice resounded, carrying both the weight of conviction and the vulnerability of a truth that had been cast adrift. There was a certain finality to her words, as if she were etching her certainty into the very landscape around her. Yet, even as the waves whispered in agreement, there was a tremor of uncertainty—a tremble in the sand, a quiver in her voice.

Then, as if her own words had tugged at the threads of her mind, she blurted out, "Hey, remember that time when you found that dog on the beach?" She turned toward Jeremiah, a fragment of shared history reflected in her eyes.

Jeremiah shifted his gaze, the lines on his forehead deepening as if the waves of time were carrying him back. "And we named her Rosie until we realized she was a boy, and then we still kept calling her Rosie anyway?"

Belly's lips curled into a fond smile, a treasure trove of memories resurfacing in her mind. The memory was etched with the hues of laughter and sun-soaked joy, a moment when the world was a canvas of innocence and playfulness. But then, like a current that suddenly pulls at one's feet, Jeremiah's words shifted the sands beneath her. "It wasn't me who found her, it was Conrad."

Confusion clouded her features, a wave of uncertainty threatening to engulf her recollections. The memory, once a solid anchor in her narrative, now felt as transient as the foam on the waves. "No, it wasn't. It was you. And you cried when her owners came and got her."

Jeremiah's response was a lifeline to the past, a testament to the clarity of his own memories. "No, that was Conrad."

The air seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting the verdict of the sea to resolve their shared history. A pang of sadness twisted in her heart as the memory she had held so dear wavered like a mirage in the heat.

"I don't think so," she persisted, her voice gentle but unwavering, a plea to preserve the fragments of a memory that felt integral to her identity. Her gaze remained locked with Jeremiah's, a silent plea for reconciliation between their versions of the past.

"It definitely was," Jeremiah's words were steadfast, a declaration that resonated with the solidity of the earth beneath them. His voice was a pillar against the gusts of uncertainty, a reflection of his own truth.

A gust of wind swept through, stirring the sands beneath her and urging her to confront the implications. How many of her cherished memories had become muddied with the passage of time? How many times had she mistaken the fluidity of recollection for an immovable truth? The ground beneath her seemed to shift, and her once-solid foundation of certainty began to falter.

"I'm positive," Jeremiah's voice held a reassuring cadence, a reminder that differing perspectives could coexist harmoniously. "Steve and I gave him so much sh*t for crying."

Belly's gaze returned to the sea, a dance of light and shadow upon the waves mirroring her inner turmoil. Conrad—his name was like a whisper of the past, a song that still lingered in the breeze. The resonance of his laughter seemed to intertwine with the sound of the waves, a reminder of the bond they had shared, the connection that time had failed to erode.

In the fluid dance of memory and emotion, one truth remained unwavering: Conrad had been an integral part of her journey. The sun descended below the horizon, bathing the sky in shades of gold and pink, as her gaze remained fixed on the sea. Her thoughts were like a ship sailing through the intricate waters of memory, where the boundaries between truth and sentiment often blurred, and the essence of her past lingered like footprints in the sand, timeless and profound.

As the waves whispered their secrets to the shore, Belly's heart carried its own hidden stories. The memories that tugged at the corners of her mind were not just about shared moments; they were threads that wove a tapestry of feelings she had meticulously folded away. Conrad had been more than just a friend, but admitting that truth meant unearthing emotions she had long buried.

Every glance exchanged, every stolen smile—they had been pieces of a puzzle she had kept locked away, for fear that unraveling them would change the picture of her life she had come to accept. The whispers of affection, the laughter shared in the hushed hours of the night, the familiarity of his touch—each had etched itself onto her heart, like the marks left by seashells in the sand.

And yet, she had hidden it all beneath layers of denial and practicality. The engagement to Jeremiah had seemed like the natural course, a decision rooted in safety and familiarity. It was easier to embrace the comfortable choice, to suppress the tide of emotions that threatened to engulf her. But now, as the sea mirrored her inner turbulence, the foundation of her emotional barricade seemed as fragile as sandcastles against the rising tide.

Belly's gaze, fixed on the ever-changing sea, was a reflection of her own inner conflict. The sun's descent mirrored the sinking feeling in her heart—the realization that buried feelings were like treasures locked in a chest, waiting for the right key to unlock them. Conrad's presence, his laughter, and the shared memories—all were keys that could unfasten the chains she had forged around her emotions.

The delicate dance between truth and sentiment was like the waves' eternal tango with the shore, an intricate choreography of longing and restraint. The footprints of her feelings, though buried, were still imprinted upon the sands of time, waiting to be uncovered. The sunset painted the sky with its brilliant hues, a reflection of the emotions that had remained concealed for too long.

As the stars emerged, twinkling like secrets whispered to the night, Belly's heart felt the pull of the past and the tug of what could be. The sea, the keeper of stories untold, seemed to urge her to confront her buried emotions, to dive into the depths of her own heart and discover the treasures she had kept hidden. With a final, lingering gaze at the sea, Belly turned away, ready to unearth the emotions she had concealed beneath layers of sand and time. The journey ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: the footprints of her feelings were waiting to be uncovered, guiding her toward a truth that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left

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