For the record, I'm not actually in Trouble. Aside from the fact that, due to the increasing housing market, I may never buy my Dream House; who am I kidding? That was never happening anyway. And, it's aside from the fact that Inflation is so high I Aint Gotta Dollar to my name. But rest assured, ladies and gentlemen—we will all Triumph. After all, Money Will Chase You.
I'm in trouble because I met the Coolest f****** b**** in town. That's right, I Fell In Love With a Girl. At least I think so. In all honesty, I'm writing this after the First date, and I don't want to sound like a Creep. But let me tell you, Sparks were flying The Night We Met.
I didn't Believe I could fall in love so fast - It's Called: Freefall. It makes me feel insane and leaves me questioning, Where Is My Mind? It was like an Overdose of Painkillers - Just kidding, I would not know. However, it is true that people in love experience symptoms similar to those with addiction.
And trust me, this isn't just Another Love, nor am I just spewing meaningless Words. Truly Madly Deeply did I Fall in Love with You. I realize I may sound like a Broken Boy. But I'm not. I know from the bottom of my heart that she's the Lemon To My Lime.
Here's why.
Love Love Love has always scared me; I'm afraid to declare my love for someone, to wear it on my chest, to tell my friends, and to show it off in public. For Reasons Unknown, I've always kept it in the Dark, Dark, Dark. But with you, I'm not Tongue Tied. Since day one, I Can't Help But Feel like I have to tell the world how I feel about you. I had no choice but to Surrender to my feelings.
What's more, when I'm with you, I have a Bellyache from laughing so hard. I mean, I literally get Shaky in the Knees and just feel like a Happy Idiot.
Lastly, I just want to be with you Everywhere and All the Time. I just never thought I'd find Someone Like You, which is why I don't want to Waste A Moment.
So, this has to be Real Love Baby.
Therefore, I Won't Give Up. Even when my love Gives You Hell. Or, when you and I have A Troubled Mind. Because only A Certain Romance can endure Dirty Love.
So, Come on Mess Me Up. Because as long as you are with me, Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby. Entirely for the reason that - I Love You So.
About the Creator
Riley Fonger
I am currently a student at MRU studying Communications with a Major in Journalism. I also do freelance writing full-time and enjoy doing some creative writing. If I do find time for creative writing, it's on Vocal.
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These Songs Helped Me - I Hope They Help You
I don't know what you're going through and I may never be able to understand. I know you can't put it into words or make sense of it all; that's okay because neither can I. So, let's let the music do the talking.
By Riley Fongerabout a year ago in Motivation
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins3 days ago in Fiction
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