tell me you feel this.

better than revenge.

It began with birthday cake. Riley pinched out the candle flame before the song was over and I yelled at him. He quickly re-lit and made a new wish so it would actually come true.

Next, the games began. So much water was squirted and dumped. Balloons and guns and sprinklers. Then Riley brought out a literal bow and arrow and proceeded to shoot everyone, because he 'was trying to make it realistic.'

Don't worry, Kari. It's padded. He said. It will be fun. He said.

The odds were not in my favor.

With the water sources depleted, my heart calmed down. Until he placed me in a death-grip. The more I fought back the tighter the hold. Soon, he brings me to the ground. Best friend comes to save me -- he brings her down while still holding me. Not sure if I should be fearful of or impressed by his strength. Minutes later, Anna and I both surrender.

Riley receives death threats and glares from my mascara stained face.

Dry clothes are found as the men set up our backyard movie.

He gives me an apology hug and I dump a bottle of freezing cold water on his head.

Us girls decide the best punishment is cuddling with someone else during the movie.

And then Peeta's face. Movie giggles. Frozen boys.

A perfect end to summer.

bachelor pad.

the best part is knowing boys in real-life that have said the exact same things about girls i know.

or is it the worst part?

“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.” - Mockingjay

he knows i'm not good with surprises.

he opened the passenger door for me. my only instruction was to look at the piece of paper on the front seat.
i didn't know where we were going or what was waiting for us.

the paper was blank; i laughed as he walked around front and got in the driver's seat.
before i could question it, he took every color of pen from the center console and handed them to me.

you're going to draw a picture.


of what? i asked.

of everything that is stressing you out; everything that makes you mad and sad and frustrated.


then, we started driving. and driving.

twenty minutes into the desert i had drawn and written down everything i could think of.
[including a picture of the jerk-face sharks that eat baby sea turtles, which i had reluctantly watched on PBS the night before.]


we turned onto a dirt road.

is it hard to talk positively while writing negatively?


he can read minds.

we came to a stop. i folded up the paper and gave it to him.

from the back he pulled a cardboard box and placed my pain inside.

he hammered a stake into the dust and placed the box on top. a target was taped to the outside, and within seconds he placed hearing protectors on my head and a handgun in my palm.

and then i shot six rounds.

he reloaded.

i shot again.

and again.

and again.

and that was it.

he complimented my accuracy. we got back in the car and he drove me home.

my thumb is black and blue. i have a blood blister on my pinky.
battle scars i proudly show off.

but with them is a hole in my heart.
for a boy that picked me up on a saturday night, just to help me relieve stress.
when he has an even heavier load to carry.