Κύρια the princess saves herself in this one
You may be interested in Powered by Rec2Me
Most frequently terms
THE PRINCESS SAVES HERSELF IN THIS ONE Copyright © 2016 Amanda Lovelace All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Second edition. ISBN-10: 1532913680 ISBN-13: 978-1532913686 the princess saves herself in this one for the boy who lived. thank you for inspiring me to be the girl who survived. you may have a lightning bolt to show for it but my body is a lightning storm. table of contents I. the princess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 - 37 II. the damsel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 - 87 III. the queen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 - 128 IV. you . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 – 153 here lies the raw, unpolished, & mostly disjointed pieces of my soul. ah, life— the thing that happens to us while we’re off somewhere else blowing on dandelions & wishing ourselves into the pages of our favorite fairy tales. once upon a time… I. the princess the princess i was born a little bookmad. i could be found stroking the spines of my books while i sat locked alone inside my tower bedroom. all the while, i hoped my books would spill their exquisite words over the lush green carpet so i could collect them one by one & savor them like berries inside of my mouth. - forever a collector of words. when i had no friends i reached inside my beloved books & ; sculpted some out of 12 pt times new roman. - & it was almost good enough. the queen my mother smiled as she offered a cube of sugar in her upturned palm. greedily, i accepted. i reached inside my mouth, delicately placing one (just one) on the center of my tongue, & i clamped down. salt. that is what abuse is: knowing you are going to get salt but still hoping for sugar for nineteen years. - you may be gone, but i still have a stomachache. one night, the princess i the princess i the princess i the princess woke to feel the bed rocking back & forth back & forth back & forth back & forth back & forth back & forth back & forth back & forth back & forth at first, she thought a hurricane must be brewing— - i can’t. i’m sorry. you should never love anything more than you love your own children. you should never love anyone more than you love your own children. - how could you? where do all the memories go, the ones we hide away with lock & key yet continue to shape us all the s a m e? - did it really happen if i can’t remember it? at eleven years old the doctor weighed me & afterwards, my mother told me i was too fat & that i needed to go on a diet immediately. for an entire year, food barely passed through my lips. i did not even allow myself to take a sip of water because i wanted to be so thin that i could blow away with the slightest breeze— disappear. i dropped sixty pounds in a few short months & i had to wear long sleeves to cover up the “cat scratches.” - everybody told me how good i looked, though. “friend request from _________” a) the girl who said you were ugly. b) the girl who said your voice was off-key. c) the girl who refused to defend you. d) the girl who laughed at you behind your back & to your face. e) the girl who took your lunch money every day because she said you didn’t need to eat. f) the girl who said you were “fat” even after you starved yourself half to death. g) the girl who was supposed to be your best friend. h) all of the above. - keep pressing ignore, lovely. fat /fat/ adjective a descriptive word. it has no deeper meaning. it should not determine the worth (or lack thereof) of a human being. - what i know now that i wish i knew then. sticks & stones never broke my bones, but words made me starve myself until you could see all of them. - skin & bone. my sister & i spent our nights wishing upon the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to our ceiling. - we made it after all. there was never enough alcohol to keep my mother warm in a house as cold as t h i s. - but you kept trying, didn’t you? there were once six five girls who shared every part of themselves: blood & secrets & lovers & even a diary. but a girl can only bleed so much before she meets her demise. - i’ll see you in california. how can someone be too young to be in love when we were crafted from ocean waves & starlight? - young love. my first kiss: tackled, pinned down, a mouth repeating no no no. after: bruises & the unmistakable taste of blood. - i will never forgive you. you have been the star of each & every one of my nightmares. - you left but you stayed. i’m sorry i wasn’t the daughter you had in mind. - i only ever wanted to make you proud. I. blood blooming underneath the stinging bite of steel. II. the once too-tight jeans hanging off my body. - two unexpected reliefs of a girl. it is strange how s i s t e r s can be s a v i o r s or s t r a n g e r s & sometimes a bit of both. - sisters. - silence has always been my loudest scream. birds can’t f l y a w a y when you clip one of their wings. you weren’t satisfied with just clipping one of my wings. you tore both wings out from the root to make sure i could n e v e r f l y anywhere ever again. - mother & daughter. since i couldn’t have my wings, i wore the fake ones dipped in gold glitter. - a wannabe faerie in converse. there came a time when poetry showed me how to bleed without the demand of blood. - my most loyal lover. i used to think i was broken because i never once spent my daydreams plucking swollen pomegranates from someone else’s tree. - then i learned that society is broken, not me. watching the house that was my sanctuary & my hell go up in flames was bittersweet but mostly just sweet. - a confession. if a house does not automatically make a home, then a body doesn’t automatically make a home either. - i’ve always felt like a stranger in my skin. you may not have left (many) bruises on my skin, but you left giant blackberry bruises all over my soul. - i still wonder who i would have been. the princess locked herself away in the highest tower, hoping a knight in shining armor would come to her rescue. - i didn’t realize i could be my own knight. II. the damsel the damsel let the dragons swoop down & steal her away from the ugliness of her world. unbeknownst to her, she was only trading one tower for another. - the wickedest liars of all. i’m not scared of the monsters hidden underneath my bed. i’m much more scared of the boys with messy brown hair, sleepy eyes, & mouths that only know how to form half-truths. - my dragons. remember when you told me you wrote that beautiful song for me & only me— your “only one”? well, i’m willing to bet you don’t remember that you had already showed it to me, saying it was for her. - you were in love with the idea of love, not me. promises whispered in the rain will be washed a w a y. - right down the fucking drain. i was the one thing he had to deny— the beautiful truth within his terrible lie. - who knew such a young heart could shatter? when my dragon with the green eyes left, i took a knife & cut off all my long, pretty hair, taking away the only thing he ever loved about me. - over before it began. “i could just eat you up.” - from the insatiable mouth of the big, bad wolf. he loves me. he loves me not. he loves her. he loves her not. he loves me. he loves me not. he loves her. he loves her not. he loves me. he loves me not. he loves her. he loves her not. he loves me. he loves me not. he loves her. he loves her not. he loves me. he loves me not. - i ran out of petals. blood runs wherever his fingertips graze me. - my steel & thorns. for a time, it seemed to me that we were starlight-touched, failing to realize that we were actually star-crossed. - the stars were never on our side. he was made of fire & i was made of ice. i came too close to his flame & he melted me with his embers, reducing me down to a puddle. with time, i froze over again, but i was never quite the same— a fragile, watery imitation of what once was. - where was my fear of fire when it came to you? “i hate you.” - his version of “i love you.” when it finally came time for him to leave, he packed up all my poetry in a suitcase & took it with him. - first my heart, then my words. he promised to fix me & he left me more s h a t t e r e d than i had been before. - but now i’ve got gold in the cracks. i have so much love to give, but no one ever wants it. - a cup overfilled. if love is a battlefield, then i must have forgotten all of my armor at home. - a war i never agreed to fight. i spent my dreams picking my teeth out of the carpet. - what does dream dictionary say? my mom told the nice doctor she was seeing starbursts in her eyes & they were almost beautiful to her— like the fourth of july had decided to come early. the doctor hesitated before breaking the news to her. “those aren’t stars. it’s cancer.” - 40 years a smoker. it was while we were drinking our usual late night coffee. without a tremble in that gravelly voice of hers, she turned to me & said her last dying wish was for me to spread her ashes over the ocean so she could finally go back home. - a mermaid escapist. when your mother begins to forget your name, you begin to wonder if you exist at all. - stage 4, terminal. irony: when your healthy & intelligent & strikingly beautiful sister dies less than a month before your terminally ill mother. - nobody realized you were just as sick. minutes before your mother made the death call, i smelled your warm vanilla perfume & my mouth filled with the taste of dirt. - death is one of the senses. children are not meant to die before their parents. i was not meant to grow older than my oldest sister. we were meant to be four sisters, not three. you were not meant to be a can of ashes on your mother’s bedside table. after all, you were the one who always burned the brightest. - fate is a fucking lie. the worst part is never being able to know if it was a s u i c i d e or not. - the truth will free me. she once made a promise to save me when all along we should have been saving her from herself. - please come back. sister— wherever you are now, i hope there is a beach. - starfish will always remind me of you. fuck you, cancer, for taking away the possibility of the mother i will never ever get to have now. - 11/03/10. your death certificate makes the claim that you died on november 3rd at 3:03 AM. that is a lie. you died long before that. - 3 isn’t my lucky number anymore. when a loved one dies, they say you should open a window to let out that final wheezing breath so their soul can be set free, but hers is still here with me. night after night after night, she pounds her fists on the walls of my dreams, begging for me to tell her the way out. - the other side. one funeral: tears of grief for a life lost too young, too soon— a tragedy. the other: tears of relief for a suffering that lasted far too long— a mercy. - & yet both hollowed me out. for the better half of a year i was terrified every time the phone rang in case it was another death call. - 3 more would come. everyone i love leaves. how many funerals can someone attend before they turn nineteen? - the cursed family. grief clung to her like an old, itchy, faded, ill-fitting, hand-me-down dress. death wound itself around her bones like a piece of red ribbon. i never expected death to be my most faithful companion, but she is the only one who will come without having to be asked. - the only one who will never leave. is there such a thing as dead mother’s day? months after my mom died, i found the book she was reading last with a yellowing receipt still tucked inside, marking her place, & it finally hit me you will never get to finish this particular book you will never get to start or finish another book ever again you will never get to see me graduate from college you will never meet the love of my life you will never be there for my wedding you will never read these words we will never ever ever ever sit on the back porch & swap ghost stories over steaming coffee mugs ever ever ever again. she won’t stop haunting me. - my ghost. he won’t stop hunting me. - my ghost II. fuck the idea that there is such a thing as destiny, that there exists some kind of mysterious master plan, that there is a god who simply does not give us anything we cannot handle. the pain did not make me a better person. it did not teach me not to take anything for granted. it did not teach me anything except how to be afraid to love anyone. i am far too young to be so goddamn broken & if i could go back in time & give myself her childhood back, i would. - what was the point? maybe i find it so hard to believe in heaven because i don’t know if there will be poetry there. - legitimate concerns of a mortal. i had a big smile on my face as i burned the bridges to all the things i could not repair. - does the smoke still choke you? it took losing him to finally find myself. it took losing him a second time to be sure of myself. that was my first act of self-love. - i would thank you, but we both know you don’t deserve it. who would i have been without the inspiration behind my demons? - probably not a poet. i am caught between mourning you & thinking your death saved me. - will you ever be able to forgive me? the princess jumped from the tower & she learned that she could fly all along. - she never needed those wings. III. the queen once upon a time, the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her & crowned herself the mother-fucking queen of herself. - how’s that for a happily ever after? in my mind’s eye i always see you sitting by yourself at the kitchen table, smoking your cigarette & drinking your coffee & wanting to be anywhere else but here with us. - were you set free? maybe we will meet again in another place— a place where forgiveness grows as lovely as the tomatoes used to grow in your garden. - the shiny red hope that gets me through late nights. when my mother died i finally got to meet my father, who i had seen every day for nineteen years. it’s true what they say: the weight of shared grief can either bring you together or drive you apart. - it’s never too late for a relationship. when you choose to sit upon a throne made up of lies & the bodies of the people who mistakenly thought they could t r u s t you, the only thing left to do is f a l l. - but i bet it was fun while it lasted. what ever will you do when everyone stops believing your red lipstick stained lies? - friends can break your heart, too. i bet you regret making an enemy out of me. - 1 back, 2 knives. i wonder how many times you touched her & had to pretend it was me. - does it still sting? i hope you treat her better than you ever treated me. - you can have my forgiveness, but you can’t have me. please believe me when i say revenge was never my intention. - but it still tastes sweeter than honey. you the brought needle & i brought the thread. we meant to mend our two broken hearts, but we ended up stitching them togeth er. if he was my cup of tea, then you are my cup of coffee. tea simply isn’t enough for me sometimes, but coffee can get me through anything. - did i make you up? before he left, he wrapped my heart in layers of briars & barbed wire to make sure that no one else could ever get in, but you were more than willing to bloody your hands for me. - you never even got pricked. his talent: he never once had to use his hands to touch each & every part of me. - he could touch me across highways. somehow, my soul knew your soul before we ever met. - it was like coming home after a long, long day. he calls me gorgeous. he reads all my favorite books & then asks for more. he knows exactly how to make my coffee. (“light & sweet, just like you,” i always joke to him.) he asks me how i am doing every single day & he genuinely cares to hear the answer. best of all, i know he will still love me when he wakes up tomorrow morning. - 5 things you made me think weren’t possible. i say to him, “we will always have our octobers. - even when everything else fades.” he opened me up like a book & poured the poetry back into me. - my personal pen & paper. a list of red things: I. his hair. II. our lips. III. my nails. IV. our breath. V. my sheets. - worth the wait. flowers grow wherever his fingertips graze me. - my sun & rain. t h i s : you & me, a fading october afternoon, the biting chill filling up the air, noses turning rosy at the tips, drinking our too-sweet coffees, pinkies hooked together, forgetting everything & everyone else. this, this, this. - 10/13/12 he is even better than books. - fiction has nothing on you. i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime. - i may not believe in fate, but i believe in you. his smile makes my bones ache. - a pain i welcome. when i see your light pieces with my dark pieces, i begin to understand why they say opposites attract. - chiaroscuro. i am so sorry for all the times the darkling dragon demon living inside my darkest corners came roaring out, flames ready, hell-bent on extinguishing all the light in you. - please don’t leave. the constellation of stars s c a t t e r e d across his back is the map that guides me home each time i find myself lost. - you are my home. he did not teach me how to love myself, but he was the bridge that helped me get here. - i thank the universe every day for you. he walked me down the bridge marked with our names, got down on one knee, & opened up my favorite book— the one with the beautiful princess & her own beloved book on the cover. inside, i found a tiny, perfect, amethyst hope. - ‘t will forever keep. i let myself know that my life doesn’t have to be over just because theirs are & i went ahead & painted the sun back into my sky. - i am allowed to live my life. “what are you going to do with your english degree?” “i plan to crack open the skulls of the masses & plant a colorful garden in every brain.” “i am going to lace together a necklace of words for everyone i meet.” “for once in my life i am going to make sure someone finally hears me.” “i don’t know.” - & it’s okay not to know. fiction: the ocean i dive headfirst into when i can no longer breathe in reality. - a mermaid escapist II. i would like to eat one meal without feeling ashamed. - healing is ongoing. all of the oceans & galaxies did not conspire together to create me just so i could reproduce for you. - startling fact #1. if i ever have a daughter, the first thing i will teach her to love will be the word “no” & i will not let her feel guilty for using it. - “no” is short for “fuck off.” i am a tigress who has earned her softer-than-velvet stripes. - an ode to my stretchmarks. i am a lioness who is no longer afraid to let the world hear her roar. - an ode to me. when i die, do not waste a minute mourning me. i may go, but i will leave behind all my thousand & one lives. - a bookmad girl never dies. i hope you can find it in your heart to be proud of the woman i have become in spite of you. - still hoping for sugar instead of salt. i will take the blood-tipped thorns they stuck in you & from them i will teach you how to weave together the crown you deserve. - you are stronger than i will ever know. IV. you raid your library. read everything you can get your hands on & then some. go on, collect words & polish them up until they shine like starlight in your palm. make words your finest weapons— a gold-hilted sword to cut your enemies d o w n. - a survival plan of sorts. trees have words the wind cannot carry, so we must write on them their stories until there are none left for them to tell. - write the story. write the story. push your hands into the dirtiest parts of yourself. take the rot & decay & turn it into nourishment & life. water it & sing to it & show it sunlight. grow a beautiful garden from your aching & teach yourself how to thrive from it. write your story. - the sign you’ve been waiting for. fill in the blank: a) poetry is ____________. - anything you want it to be. when you live in new york or new jersey it is almost a rite of passage when someone jumps in front of your train. the first thought is always, “i’m going to be late for work.” it is never, “what a tragedy she felt that there was no other way out.” but it is. it is a fucking tragedy when the world does not stop for you even when you give it every last drop of your blood. - i never learned your name, but you mattered to me. there is not enough rain water in all the skies to rinse the innocent blood from your hands. - their lives will always matter. a world where all human beings are taken care of shouldn’t be called a “revolutionary” way of life & yet it is. - burn. if you don’t want to end up in someone else’s poem, then maybe you should start treating people better for a change. - an unapologetic poet. emily— i often find myself wondering if you are still out there with lanterns, looking for yourself. is sylvia there with you, guiding the way by the old brag of her beating heart? does virginia have a room all her own? & what about harriet & anne & harper? does a woman ever find her peace? is death our only feather-covered hope? - i’ll be there with matches. your hips will try to burst through your skin. your thighs will try to grow together like a mermaid’s tail. a soft garden will try to sprout on your legs. (& between your legs, on your upper lip, on your armpits, etc.) no, you are not just here to be sexy for him. the world begins & ends when you say so. - what they don’t want you to know. food is not the enemy. - society is. i’m pretty sure you have s t a r d u s t running through those v e i n s. - women are some kind of magic. you are not obligated to have children just because your body has that capability. you are so so so much more than the possibility of children. you give birth to oceans every single day. - your friendly neighborhood man-hater & child-eater. be a mermaid. be a mermaid who doesn’t settle for making a small splash. be a mermaid who doesn’t stop until she makes tidal waves. be a mermaid who knows to stop before she devastates the world with her tsunamis. - don’t allow the world to take your kindness. you did absolutely nothing to deserve it. - fuck rape culture. repeat after me: you owe no one your forgiveness. - except maybe yourself. the love some girls have for other girls is so gentle & so soft & so fucking beautiful, & these girls deserve to have better stories than the ones where they are murdered because they love with too much of their hearts. - love is never a weakness. the only thing required to be a woman is to identify as one. - period, end of story. your happiness comes before anyone else’s happiness. - the real meaning of “self-respect.” just because they don’t hit you doesn’t mean it isn’t abuse. wouldn’t you think it a crime to look up at the night sky & tell the stars that they have no sparkle? guess what? you shine brighter than all the starlight there has ever been or ever will be. - emotional abuse is still abuse. you deserve someone who makes you feel like the otherworldly creature you are. - yourself. be wary of the boys who only ever tell half-truths because they will only ever be half in love with you. - slay those dragons. when someone offers to save you make it your mission to save yourself. - i believe in you. the end. special acknowledgements my sun & rain, who believed i could write this even when i didn’t. my father, who probably didn’t know i was a writer but will hopefully be proud of me for writing this. my sister-savior, who wouldn’t imagine giving up on me even in the darkest of times. the rest of my family, who always encouraged me to keep moving forward even if it meant pushing me out of my comfort zone. my beta readers (christine, mira, danika, shauna, rob, mason, & lauren), who cried while reading this & – most importantly – pointed out my inconsistences & corrected most of my grammar mistakes. about the author amanda lovelace is a poetess & storyteller whose words have been shared in her local coffee shop & her tumblr blogs. she currently lives in new jersey with her fiancé. she received her A.A. in english literature from brookdale community college in 2014. as of 2016, she is working toward her B.A. in english literature & sociology at kean university. what she will do next, nobody knows—not even her. for now, you can find her reading anything she can get her hands on, writing while she should probably be paying attention in class, thinking about writing but not actually writing, drinking an inordinate amount of coffee, & blogging about books. on top of all this she is a lover of all things cat-related as well as a staunch mermaid enthusiast. she considers herself to be a feminist & a social justice advocate. you can also find her as ladybookmad on twitter, instagram, & tumblr.