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53% of my closet is thrifted. The rest was under $10 a piece and cheaply made even though I could afford to buy nice clothes.

My car has hail damage from a storm that happened 9 months ago. I have a $4000 check from my insurance company to fix it, but it’s just sitting in my bank account while my car still functions perfectly with a few dimples.

I get really chatty when I’ve been drinking. I see the good in everyone. I want to kiss everyone and tell them how much they mean to me, even if I just met them 5 minutes ago.

What have I been talking about this entire time? I’m not sure, but I look at my old writing and am jealous of my younger self. I just word vomit now, when I used to place each word specifically and gracefully.

What draws me to you is that you call me by my middle name. 

It's such a personal piece of my identity that isn't often recognized as who I am. Shortened in my signature as a mere "F."  It doesn't get enough credit considering how special it is.

Fae.

My Great Grandmother's name. From what I understand, she was a wonderful woman who always had a drawer full of cookies and a heart full of love. I only know her through old photos and hand written cards addressed to my mother.

Fae.

My middle name. As a child it seemed to only be used when my parents knew I was up to trouble, and for that, I resented it. Growing older, I understood the history that I carried. I recognized the beauty in those 3 letters that build a bridge between my first and last name.

Fae.

And it was the sixteenth summer of our lives. The summer that tickled us with freedom. Every moment was spent with you. We had cars, we had imaginations, we had each other. Looking at the stars, but only through the reflection of each other’s eyes. It was the summer romance of my dreams.

You were meant to expand your horizons though. France was your destiny and so you left. Exchanging letters while you exchanged lives. Winter flings and spring flings were never quite the same.

Night 1:

10:30

I lay down to go to bed. The quiet noises of my mother getting ready for bed outside of my room is soothing. I close my eyes and immediately fall asleep. For some reason it feels like I am still awake. Opening my eyes, I can't breathe. My body begins to levitate in the air and I am jolted up. I begin screaming for my mom. I can still hear her, but nothing comes out of my throat. She can't hear me. Still struggling in mid air, I am violently thrown down and I seem to "wake up" as if I was dreaming. I roll over and look at my clock.

10:31. 

Night 2:

Similar occurrences to night one. Memories are vague, yet unforgettable. The same type of desperation. Can't breathe. Can't move. Panic spreads through my whole body. I wake up and time has hardly passed.

Night 3:

I am staying at Isabella's tonight. As usual she falls asleep before me. I roll over and press my side up against hers for the warmth and feel a hard force pushing me down. My arms are wrapped around my body and I can't move. I try screaming for Isabella, but nothing comes out again. My fingers can barely reach her sides and in an attempt to pinch her or tickle her to get her attention, the force only pushes harder. Somehow I manage to get out of the bed. This is the first occurrence where I move. Running to her mom's room, I can feel a presence follow me. The rest is a blur, but it was also the only occurrence that lasted longer than a minute.

All three nights I have slept in the supine position. This makes it easier for the soft pallet to collapse and to block air flow. In most sleep paralysis occurrences, the subject sees a demon or elf/imp type of character. For some reason I get more of a ghostly presence.