You smile but you don't notice me. And I'm okay with that. I feel like a little girl again, so small and curled up inside, smiling back at you, afraid to expose every little secret, so I avoid your eyes. I never say anything. I zip my mouth closed, holding every word hostage behind my tongue; so eager to speak, but I know they will just fall out, all jumbled up, and I'll sound like a freak.

Your eyes twinkle, did you know that? I bet you didn't. But that's another one of my secrets, so I won't tell you. I wonder what's wrong with me, I keep asking that. I tell myself it's all an illusion, just something I made up in my head. And maybe that's true, I don't really know. All I know is I can't get these things from floating around in my head. They bounce around, causing me this head ache. But I won't tell you that. If I did you would stare at me, dumbfounded, and I would frighten you. So don't worry, I won't let you know a thing.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that there's no such thing as fairy-tales. No princes or princesses, no knight in shining armor to save me on his royal steed. And that's what this is, another one of my fairy-tales. Some concoction I've brewed in my head; and that's all I have to remember, that none of it is real.

And here I am, spilling words all over the place. They spew from my mouth, so vile and desirous—they call me back every time I slip away, telling myself I don't need this, I need to get away. But the words are so alluring, they want to be spoken. They want to be called out, at the top of my lungs, they want to be screamed, from the very tip-top of the highest mountain.

But don't worry, I'll hide the words. I'll bottle them up, I'll keep them all hidden. I'll shove them back down, deep, deep, in the furthest crevice, in the very smallest, safest, most inconspicuous part of my mind. And no one will no, least of all you. I'll keep them for myself, besides,

none of this is real, it's only wishful thinking.