A Pumpkin and a Patch

by Jennifer Peel

Dearest Ms. Peterson (Or can I call you Josie yet?), I’ve always wanted to be called Your Royal Highness, so I’m your man. When do we get started? All the best, Your Most Royal Highness

“But I get why you’re going to,” he beat me to the punch. “You just got out of a bad relationship with a man who lied to you and obviously didn’t deserve you. And for some reason, you’re embarrassed by the story you wrote. And you think by not liking me, it will help you continue to run away from that piece of yourself that was exposed to the world. It’s why you always hide from me, but really, you’re just hiding from yourself.”

“If you need to know exactly why I want to get to know you, here’s my list: You’re a little crazy,” he chuckled. “You’re passionate about everything you do, as far as I can tell. You’re talented and gorgeous. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted.

My esteem for my dad always grew when I realized he was not blind to my mother’s craziness, yet he embraced it anyway. That was true love right there.

“I suppose you subscribe to Sylvia Plath’s way of thinking: ‘Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.’” “No. I was thinking more along the lines of, kiss me, and see how important you are.”

“Why would you want to be thrown into the blender in order to mix in with the masses, only to get cut by the blades?”

“For years, I let others cut me with their words and insults, but I realized it was because they so badly wanted to be in the mix. When I finally learned it was okay not to be, it changed my life. From then on, I didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought of me.”

“Josie, you should always be the first person to stand up for yourself. I’m always happy to play backup for you, but the first step to getting out of the blender is to see your worth—and to realize you’re worth fighting for.”

That just goes to show that you should never compare your life to the one people portray, especially online. We all have our personal demons. Some are just better at hiding theirs.

“I knew you would have good morning eyes.” I had no idea what that meant, so I’d asked him to clarify. He was happy to oblige. “They’re eyes that say you are as happy to be with me in the dark as you are in the light.”