Reid@YWP

It’s that feeling

Of awkwardness

Of excitement

Of twenty million things on the tip of your tongue

Of so many words that will never be said.

i love writing. 

i loved writing.

until i started thinking.

for me, writing was my everything, i think

my way to an escape, my way to a love story, my way to another life.

My name is Amelia.  

I am 17 years old 

And I am afraid for my future. 

I am tired of old men 

Deciding how I will live,  

Determining the world in which 

She's finally ahead in the presidential race. The way my hope lifted when I heard that news. And the disbelief on my face? How, after ten months? I was sure I was going to be screaming from my porch on election day, "Why, why?

And then.. And then what he said tapping his pencil on his chin. He was almost done with the story, but just couldn’t figure out how to end it. It could’ve been a happy ending? A mysterious ending? Or maybe just a cliffhanger?

edited version of my former work posted 2+ years ago

when i was seven

i still believed in fairy tales

i still wanted to wear a crown, be a princess

have someone look up to me and say