Remember that? I bet you can't eat all that. And, much to your mother's disappointment, you did. Quickly. Then laughed in triumph until your stomach lurched and then your friends were the ones laughing. I bet you won't talk to that cute girl (handsome guy) over there. And, against your better judgement, you did. They laughed, of course. In your face. But you were triumphant for taking the bet. Fool. You took the bait. The stakes were always soemthing dumb like if I win, you have to clean my room for a whole month. Or if you win, I'll stand in the hallway and say "I love Barney!" during lunch. Haha. Fool.
I bet you don't know I'm afraid. Oh my God, I'm so afraid. I'm afraid of tomorrow. I'm afraid of the day after. And the day after. All the uncertainty, all the anxiety... all the fears. I'm so afraid.
I bet you don't know why I write. Why I truly, truly write. The joy I feel when someone says "I liked it." Or the sadness I feel when someone hates it. I bet you didn't know I write to escape. That I have a haven within my own writing because I created it. How easy it is for me to express thoughts that I could never say in real life by simply putting quotes around it, absolving myself of all responsibility.
But bets are for children. Foolish children who don't know any better. Aren't they?
.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.
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