Since Valentine’s Day, Lucy hasn’t slept much; but if Lucy’s honest with herself, it’s been harder to catch sleep even before Valentine’s Day. And if Lucy’s even more honest with herself, she could admit this one thing: she was very rarely honest with herself. Instantly, her mind came up with excuses for herself. She was good at those and, though she tried to avoid resorting to actually using them, they sometimes helped. But that was the kind of help that she loathed—and, unfortunately, it was the help that she had sought within herself.

Perhaps that was the real reason the events that occurred Friday night made her want to crawl under the nearest blanket and cry. It was as though her heart had stopped beating, like it had been abandoned on the stage when she bolted. Feelings were hard to grasp and it was all because she was feeling entirely too many of them, and all of the ones she wasn’t used to feeling: disappointment, fear, loathing, shame, and helplessness. It gnawed at her insides every time her eyes slipped closed; she’d imagine herself in a lake, the water the kind of blue that her eyes reflected, her body light and all too heavy as she laid there simply floating. Normally, those images left her with itch to take a deep breath and let herself sink under water for a few moments, moments where she could just exist under the water and everything else would be muffled noise. She could avoid it all, even herself, for a while as her muscles would relax to the water. That was the long way of explaining how she was really feeling, anyway.

But even in the metaphors, Lucy desperately clawed up for air at some point.

A quiet sigh slipped past the dark haired girl’s lips as she finished tying her shoes. The hope of sleep was lost and as the dawn peaked over the horizon on that early Sunday morning, Lucy figured she might as well take advantage of the time she had in front of her to go on a walk to clear her mind. She had spent almost the entire day before at the animal shelters, breathing in their all around cuteness and sometimes tragedy and hoping to provide them with some sort of love. On Sundays, she normally tended to lay low, like she had been for most of the weekend. She didn’t know what to say to people who weren’t Aidan. It was hard to find any words that weren’t complete lies to describe the way she was or the way she was feeling or, more in particular, the way she wasn’t feeling. But somewhere along the lines of insisting she was fine right from the end of July to now, she had begun to actually feel fine in some—most—areas. Lies were sometimes for the better. Sometimes it helped them become truths.

The further the distance between her and her home, the further the distance seemed to separate between her and the many problems that would never leave her alone. It was reliving, if only for a little while. She knew that eventually, soon, she’d have to go back and would go back because she liked being home and around people. But sometimes, sometimes she also liked being alone, too. And sometimes she felt alone even with herself. Mainly because most days, most days she wasn’t actually sure who herself was or who Lucy wanted it to resemble. She had told herself she was figuring it out—when really, she had been pushing it away. She hadn’t wanted to deal with it in any way possible.

It’s at that moment that she turns around. It’s easy to find her way home—she didn’t go too far in the first place—and her steps go from walking to jogging in a matter of seconds; she was both running away from and to herself.

The door to her home sticks a little as she slips in. The house is still quiet but the rooms aren’t particularly dark, and she suspects she is still one of the only ones awake. She makes her way back up to her room quickly, kicking off her shoes and scratching Garland fondly behind the ears before she got to work.

She found a few old boxes that she had had in her closet for years, simply waiting for what she then called “Their Big Adventure”. For the most part, they had never been used. Today, at least, an idea for somewhat of a purpose had rose in her mind as she began to tear through her things, throwing countless items into the box. Seemingly out of nowhere, she stopped. With a grunt of effort, she lifted the box off of the bed and sat it on the floor, reaching for her laptop and flipping it on. She waited a few moments for it to load before selecting the webcam.

It took a few minutes for her to picture to show and even more for it to adjust to some sort of light, and even then that wasn’t saying much. It was a quality much different from the ones she had seen of Aidan’s footage. She could practically feel him cringing from his home in the Chang residence as she considered even the thought of doing this with a webcam and at least not something with a little bit more dignity.

"I normally write these things down in my journal," she said. She spoke as if she was merely just talking to herself and there wasn’t the hum of her computer. She suspected this meant she was getting somewhat used to it because of Aidan and her frequent time with him. She reached over and grabbed her journal as if to show proof before setting it down again. "I suppose today I was planing to, too, but then I just sort of…stopped. I’ve been doing that a lot, lately: starting and stopping before I even get halfway through."

Lucy breathed out, tucking her legs underneath her as she scooted back slightly. “See, I… I’m tired of doing that. I really am. This Friday, I did something that I have never, not once, done before: I ran away. Off. And… and I’m not sure how that makes me feel, really. But I know that it’s not me. Even though lately… lately, I’ve been not too sure about who that is. Who is, really? I think I’m starting to realize that, too. No one can really be sure who they are. Not even me.” She snorted in a sad, resigned sort of fashion as her gaze dropped to her clasped hands. “I’ve realized that I have two choices. I can… I can continue to not do anything. I can continue to go the easiest route to just make things done and over with or… or I can fight back. And I’ve decided that I want to fight back.”

"I’ve spent a lot of time since July being afraid. I don’t want to spend this year being afraid, too. I’ve been clinging on so desperately to who I was, when really… really, I think that it’s time to let her go. Properly. In this box, I have a lot of old things, things that I really don’t need anymore but that someone out there, hopefully, will. So I’m… going to be donating them. Keeping them doesn’t mean they have the power to change things back to how they used to be. They never will be. They can either get better or worse. I’ve spent… a lot of time bringing on the worse for myself. And I’m- I’m going to try harder not to do that so much anymore. I don’t want to."

She cleared her throat. “One of Judy Garland’s most famous, famous quotes states to always be a first rate version of yourself and not a second rate version of someone else. So… here’s to being first rate. No matter where this takes me, I am no longer going to be afraid of accepting becoming something else. And it’ll be better. I’m going to make sure of it.”

After a moment, Lucy decided that that was basically all that she really wanted to say. She was sure that she could find more, but now, for once, she didn’t want to search for more. She had plenty of time for that later. She offered the camera a small smile, holding up her hand as if to say goodbye before clicking it off. She then reached for her phone, sending the file to her E-mail and saving it before forwarding it to Aidan.

In the hope that it inspires you. Or gives you motivation when I have more artist days.

P.S. I looked up what the amethyst stone meant. Thank you.

Once she was sure the file sent completely, she rested her phone down on her nightstand table and threw her hair up into a bun. She very carefully held up the necklace Aidan got her, undoing the clasp and securing it around her neck.

She closed her eyes. As always, Blaine’s face came to her mind.

And she sang.