Mated With Five Boys

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time.We are the ones we've been waiting for.We are the change that we seek."- Barack Obama

I laid in bed late that night thinking about Rose's words, about opening myself to people.

I don’t understand why I have such trouble letting people in.

I guess that's partly the reason I started writing in my journal because I didn’t trust anyone with my secrets.

And maybe that's because I don't want someone seeing me that vulnerable.

Maybe it's because I'm scared if I start Pouring myself out, I won't know how to stop.

Or maybe it's because I know everyone in my life is temporary, foster parents, friends, teachers, neighbors, and even family.

I remember going to school after my mother died, I was in the second grade, I told my best friend at the time about what had happened.

I still remember the tears that formed in her young eyes as she repeatedly told how sorry she was.

And even with me being that young, I decided then and there I wasn't going to tell anyone about my life, and so I didn't.

I didn't need people's apologies.

I didn't need people feeling sorry for me.

What I needed was my mom back.

The only person I ever told my thoughts to is long gone, and not coming back.

And I'm okay with that.

At least, that's what I had thought before now.

I closed my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep, but it felt like my brain was going 100 mph.

One sheep, two sheep, three shee- who the hell am I kidding? That's never going to work.

Groaning loudly, I grabbed the pillow that was resting next to me and covered my face with it.

Go to freaking sleep Mia.

I stared blankly up at my dark ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts.

My internal clock completely and totally screwed.

Especially since Colorado is two hours behind from New York, where I previously lived.

I closed my eyes for the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time, finally feeling the drowsiness seep into my body when suddenly my walls started shaking.

Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi started ringing in my ears from the room across from mine.

Axel's room.

Oh, C’mon! I sighed irritated.

Who plays music this late? I'll tell you who, evil teenage boys that's who.

Doesn't he understand how disrespectful that is? How would he like it if I blasted my music this late? I jumped out of my bed, whipping the covers off me in the process.

I marched over to my door, flinging it open.

I

does he think he is! Has he no respect? I stomped right to Axel's

did I have a few

playing so loud

myself I wrapped my fingers around the cold I doorknob

the door slowly,

just had

wage war with Axel? No Mia,

that could happen? I shook my head agreeing with myself, It's time to take some initiative and stand up

Axel Deacon was my

and strangely attractive monster but a

ready to give Axel a

"WOOAAAHH WE'RE HALFWAY THERE!"

hand balled into a fist, acting like he was singing into

LIVING ON A

and

pair of loose-fitting, grey basketball shorts? My eyes widen in shock, I couldn't help the small smile that formed from the sight

like a

in the fuck are you doing in

me, turning

hard, the smile on my face

time he

done anything to

Mia here's

he doesn't

"I-I just"

my words, he was just

You've done blown it.

look at me with those eyes? What's he supposed to do? Talk to you with his eyes closed?

"Just forget it, leave."

me off, turning his music back

something in his voice that didn't sit right with

to say was unimportant, as if I was troubling him with

I came to tell you to

straight, mustering up the little backbone I

"Oh really?"

pink lips formed

"Really."

head, feeling

"No."

stated simply, turning on his

do you mean

and turning the volume all

"I mean no."

said in a "duh"

"It's too loud,"

I stated.

Living on a Prayer

rolled his dark brown eyes

for

said poking his bare, tanned

over here shaking my

skillfully grabbed my hand that I had poked him with and gripped my wrist