"I used to think as I looked at the Hollywood night, there must be thousands of girls sitting alone like me, dreaming of becoming a star but I'm not going to worry about them [because] I'm dreaming the hardest." --Marilyn Monroe

A photoshoot with my lovely friend, Jessica, and my brother, Connor.

"I give you my heart" he said, as he dropped the small silver pendant into her open hands. "It was my mother's. My dad gave it to her when they were our age." Her eyes grew wider and suddenly, she threw her arms around him. "Oh Timothy!" she cried. "That is just the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me.". The boy was smiling now. He never thought his gift could cause such a jubilant reaction. Her eyes were sparkling like they always did when she was cheerful. He loved that about her. "Marilyn?" he said. "Yes?" she replied, still fully enthralled over her new keepsake. "I love you, Marilyn. I love you forever strong." he confessed. "I love you too. Forever strong." she repeated. Their smiles were matching. They were ear-to-each grins, authentic and rare. He reached for her hand and she laced her fingers with his. They walked to class, not even a bit concerned about being late. Two weeks later, the couple was invited to a party to celebrate Halloween. There were costumes and candy and a house full of friends. Timothy, the policeman and Marilyn, the princess arrived together, hand-in-hand per usual. They danced and socialized, played games and enjoyed the food. About an hour into the party, they were separated. Marilyn's friends stole her away for some girl talk and Timothy stayed by the punch bowl, watching his goofball "friends" playing darts. He spectated and cheered for a while, but then he noticed Marilyn, talking with some mysterious character dressed as Zorro. She laughed at his jokes and they talked for a long while. Timothy took a seat by the refreshments table to sulk as he watched Zorro steal his girl. "What can I do?" thought Tim. "He's Zorro for Pete's sake! What's a policeman to do? All I can do is give him a fake ticket!" He sat and pondered this, until he saw Marilyn answer her cell phone. She looked concerned and she stepped outside to take the call. Timothy, still in a haze of jealousy and self-pity, grabbed his coat and slipped out the back door. The next day at school, Timothy went half the day without seeing Marilyn. At lunch, he occupied their usual spot under the sycamore tree. He waited. No sign of Marilyn. He ate his lunch alone. Finally, Marilyn arrived. She was dressed in jeans and a gray sweatshirt. She didn't look at all like herself. She was always so bright and bubbly and bursting with exuberance and light. Today, she resembled a raincloud. Timothy stood to greet her. Her took her hands in his, but she soon pulled away. "I'm sorry" she said. Tim was confused. He tried to look into her eyes, searching for the answer, but she averted her gaze elsewhere. "I'm moving. We can't...we can't be...together anymore." she said softly. Timothy's heart shattered on the spot. At first, he refused to believe it. They had been together for two years. It couldn't be over now. It couldn't end so abruptly, so harshly. "I'm sorry" she said again, drawing him back to reality. "I'm truly sorry" she said. "So am I." whispered Tim. "So am I." Marilyn then reached behind her neck and undid the clasp on her locket. It seemed like slow-motion as she dropped the locket into his open hands. That afternoon, Timothy Gibbons sat like stone. He had come home, closed and locked the door to his bedroom and sat. He sat in silence and stillness as he thought of all the great times he had been through with his beloved Marilyn. All the pictures of her, he laid face down. He couldn't stand to see her smile when she had caused him such great sorrow. For weeks at a time, he would repeat this ritual of siting and pondering. The day after the break-up, Marilyn was absent. The next day, she was absent. The next day, she was gone. The day after that she was MIA. It was like she had never existed. Only the pain left behind in Timothy's heart proved otherwise. He sat on the edge of his bed daily and thought of her. One day, he spotted a shining spot of shimmering light. It was a reflection from the sunlight through his window. But what was it reflecting off of? He wandered over to his dresser and discovered the object. It was the silver locket that Marilyn had returned to him that fateful day. He stood in stiff amazement as a new wave of deep sadness rushed over him. It was all flooding in again, the memory of her smile, her laugh, her sparkling eyes. He felt it all over again. A drop of that sorrow ran down the length of his face. A second followed. Then another. Soon, he was drowning in his own agony as tears came rushing down. He took the locket in his hands and stumbled back over to his bed. Hunched over, he cried. The cold locket felt heavy in his hands. He was fragile. He cried without shame. He couldn't stop himself. She was gone, like the memory of a dream you had many years ago. Gone. That's when the locket fell open. The clasp came undone and the pendant opened up. There, inside the locket, Timothy found a small piece of paper folded neatly. He unfolded the note and found the words "Forever strong. Love, Marilyn."

Bessie was my boyfriend Aaron's old truck. She was a blue Ford with leather seats and a sweet hum as she drove. Bessie was quite beat up, but we loved her all the same. She gave us many great nights that summer and memories I will always carry. Aaron and I were sweethearts as teenagers and our love lasted only through the summer, but I truly loved him. We met at baseball practice. I brought my older brother his catcher's mitt and Aaron winked at me. I stayed and watched them play and joke around. I stood as close as I could, pressed up against the fence. Aaron kept looking at me. I was blushing like crazy. All of a sudden, practice was over. The team cleared out but Aaron stayed behind. "Hey there." he said in a honey-sweet southern accent that made me melt. "Wanna help me practice?" I stared at him with wide eyes as he looked back at me, waiting. I finally gave a nod. My brother called to me, but I said no, that I would take the city bus home. Once the team had gone, Aaron put a bat in my hands. He smiled and pitched me a hit. I missed and said "I'm sorry!" right away. He gave a small laugh and told me not to worry. "What's your name, by the way? I only know you as Jeff's little sister." he said. "Well, I'm not that much younger, only two years. And my name's Rebecca." I explained. He smiled. "Okay, Becky." he said. I smiled back at him, lost in those sparkling eyes. He pitched me a second ball and I missed by a mile. "Tighten your grip." Aaron advised. I did as he instructed and CRACK! the ball and bat made contact. Soon after, though the ball made contact with something else...Aaron's head. SMACK! He fell to the ground. My hand went to my mouth as I ran to him in shock. "Oh my God! I am so sorry! Are you okay? Oh God, please let him be alright!" I yelled. As I got close, I heard him laughing. Laughing! "I'm fine." he said. "No, you are not!" I argued. "I just smacked you in the head with a baseball!" Still laughing, he rose to his feet. "No, it's okay. Look! I'm not even bleeding." he said, showing me his head. "I probably should ice it though. Could you drive me?" he asked. Feeling completely guilty and still a bit smitten, I agreed. "Good" he replied. "You can drive Bessie." I gave him a look and asked "Who's Bessie?" He pointed to his blue chariot Ford. I nodded and we made our way toward her. We got in and I adjusted the seat and mirrors. He was about a foot taller than me. He smiled as he watched me fiddle with the stick shift. "Have you ever driven a stick?" he asked, grinning and knowing I hadn't. "Sure." I said, but he saw right through me. "Here, I'll shift, you drive." he said. I looked at him in awe. "What? No! Why don't you just drive?" I asked. "Hello! Possible head trauma here. I mean, you did hit me with a baseball." he said, goading me. "Fine." I said. So I drove. It was certainly difficult, but Aaron was a surprisingly good teacher. We got to the drug store around the corner quite easily. We parked and he told me to wait while he ran inside. He came back out a minute later with two blueberry slurpees. He got back in the car, handed me one of the large styrofoam cups and closed the door. "So," he said, holding his cup to his bruised head. "Where do you go to school"?" he asked. "Oh, I go to a private girl's school in town" I told him. "That's why I haven't seen you around." he said. I nodded. The conversation went on from there. And finally, after icing his head for a couple hours, he drove me home. He called me the next night and we went out. Soon we were together every day and sometimes until late at night. We went bowling and to the movies, but our favorite thing to do was watch the stars. We would drive old Bessie up the hill to Sunset Crest, park, and lay down in the bed of the truck. We would let the radio play and just hold each other, singing or talking. We spent hours there, in our secret place. I remember one day in particular, we were singing along with the radio when all of a sudden he sat up, took off his jacket, and wrapped it around my shoulders. "I'm not cold" I said. It was the middle of the summer, after all. In fact, why had he been wearing it? "I want to give this to you." he explained. What? "But Aaron, this is your letterman jacket for baseball. You love it!" I said, confused. "Yes, but I love you more" he told me. I believed him. "I love you too" I said, pulling on the jacket, then kissing him. It was a passionate kiss, full of promise and hope. He loved me.......but soon the summer was over. It was almost time for school to start. I was okay with that. I could hardly wait to go to school and show all those girls my boyfriend's letterman jacket. But my ideas soon changed. Aaron drove me up to Sunset Crest and parked. We did not sit in the bed. We did not listen to the radio. We sat in silence for a moment or two. Then, Aaron turned to me. "Stanford" he said. "What?" I asked. "I'm going to Stanford. I leave in two weeks." he said. I hung my head and realized I couldn't breathe. "Two weeks?" I whispered. He reached over and lifted my chin. His sparkling eyes were bluer than ever. "I will always love you, Becky and I wish you the best." he said. "That sounds like a goodbye." I said, part in anger, part in sorrow. "I'm sorry." he muttered. Tears painting my face, I started to take off his precious jacket. "No," he said. "I want you to keep it." Staring at him in agony I whispered "I want to keep you"

I'm singing in church today. Maybe someday I'll be onstage, singing my own songs and inspiring people. But then again...I'm a crazy dreamer.