love this girl she can never keep a secret to herself

okay but imagine maya before lucas knew about her feelings for him. Imagine her heart having a tiny shred of hope in secret of life because maybe, just maybe, lucas is more alike to her than she thought and maybe, just maybe, he could like her. imagine her heart being crushed as she saw riley and lucas being more highkey than ever in New World so she distracts herself with farkle because he’s always made her feel better and he never judges her, even if he has a suspicion that maya isn’t telling him the whole truth. imagine her dancing with lucas at semi-formal and her heart is beating so fast in her chest but she can’t show it. Imagine her wishing and wishing and wishing that things could be different in yearbook but the hahuurs are enough, even if it’s only her who knows what they mean. Imagine her heart skipping a beat when lucas does that soft lil voice with her when she walks into the classroom as the girl he’s supposed to love and she’s taken aback because he knows this is her, maya hart, he just said so, and yet he’s being so gentle with her. Then imagine her heart being crushed as she hears what lucas says about her home life in his speech about  her coming back to him. The realisation when she figures out just how superficial riley and lucas’s relationship is but she can’t say anything to anyone because she only wants happiness for riley, even if it doesn’t include her. She can’t tell Farkle because he’d only tell Riley straight away, she can’t tell blabbermouth Zay (blonde beauty, anyone?) and Smackle would only think logically and that isn’t what she can do right now, and she feels like she’s going to burst if she doesn’t say anything soon. Imagine her giddiness at going to Texas because this is her one chance to tease Lucas and secretly pretend that it’s just them, and the brunette he smiles so widely at doesn’t exist. Imagine her being so elated and riding a wave of euphoria when he looks directly at her and tells her she looks good without even glancing at the brunette yet.  Imagine her heart beating so rapidly when she sees the destruction of the bull and if only lucas knew how she felt because then she could just grab his hand and never let go and run from all of this. Riley, Pappy Joe, the never-ending fear that she could lose him. Imagine the hurt that he didn’t listen to her and Riley chose to watch him instead of speaking to her best friend of 7 years. Imagine the panic and uncertainty of when riley finds out that she likes lucas. Imagine her heart on fire at the campfire and her still feeling the heat of the fire on her skin when she sits next to lucas on the train back to New York. Imagine the hope in her heart and eyes when he beams a smile of a thousand moons at her when he says it makes up for everything, and for a split second - she thinks this could work. but then farkle destroys all the foundations they’ve made by announcing that riley still likes lucas and she knows where this is headed and she doesn’t want to do it anymore.

Thoughts on Sophie Deveraux

Here is a simple truth about people: everybody wants something. The trick to a good grift, is figuring out what your mark wants, and then giving them a taste. Not all of it, mind you, just enough to awaken their apetite. Make them believe you can give them what they want. After that, they’re yours.

She’s good at figuring out what people want. It’s a split second judgement, more art than science, and she’s almost never wrong. Even as a young girl, she could sense flawlessly when she should be shy and quiet, or loud and boisterous, when she should be the perfect wonderchild, and when she should be the adorable rascal.

Between this carefully cultured skill, and her parents’ rich heritage, she never wants for anything, but somehow she always wants more. The problem is, she doesn’t know what it is she wants. She can figure out almost everybody around her, but her own desire of life remain an unanswered question.

She begins to grow unhappy with who she is, with playing the little games, being whoever people want her to be. She’s eighteen and already carrying too many masks, too many different versions of herself. She’d hoped to make a new start when she went to college. She’s studying Art History, something she really thought she was passionate about, but there’s still something missing. This still isn’t what she wants. 

Then one evening she ends up at some rich frat-guy’s party at his parents’ house. Looking around the room she realizes she doesn’t even know anyone there. Then she realizes the flip-side of this - no-one knows her either. And at that moment she decides to change. She slips upstairs, tries a couple of doors until she finds what she’s looking for -  a woman’s room. She steals a dress, lets down her hair, readjusts her make-up. When she comes back downstairs, she’s a different woman.

She realizes the difference immediately, in how the crowd parts before her, in the whispers that follow in her wake. She’s become someone else, someone who people stare at, talk about. She likes it. Someone comes up to her, asks her name. She hesitates, but the name comes easily.

“It’s Sophie.”

I notice the way she stumbles over the names of my past lovers. I notice the way she never acknowledges the fact that we’re together. I noticed how she never said ‘I love you’ first because her mother always preached about how your heart is treasure that doesn’t belong to just anyone. She hates being vulnerable so she closed herself up instead and never talks about the feelings that brew in her chest. Even if she does, it’s always a whisper as if her emotions should be kept secret. Her mother told her that the world was a dangerous place that would hurt her if she didn’t keep her guard up but how do I tell her that sometimes mother doesn’t always know best? How do I tell the girl with chains around her heart that freedom can be something you give yourself, not just something you watch others have? She’s not really scared of vulnerability but rather getting hurt and how do I tell her that hurt is part of the human experience? Hurt is something to be embraced, not feared of because hurt can set light on new floors of happiness. I just want her to be happy. I don’t want her mouth to be stained with the blood of her tongue because she held it for too long. I want her to tell me how she feels and to not feel bad afterwards because I want to hear what she has to say. I want her heart chain-free and open and I want her to say 'I love you’ first next time. Her mind is probably filled with many names but I want her to know that those few names of the women I used love shouldn’t be the ones she remembers. She must know that the only name on the list of woman I love is hers and I hope one day our relationship can blanket her with comfort and warmth. Her mom was a wise woman but I’m quite wise myself and I’ll tell her one night that freedom tastes better than fear.

- writing I find on my phone (#1)