So so so so so very sorry for the wait. Sharpeners. It's useless to own lots of pencils without having a sharpener. What does a sharpener do? It sharpens, duh. That's like life. When you break down, and the lead snaps, you crumble, the sharpener is always there to fix you up again. Tells you to stand up straight, chin up, become pointy and witty and wise again. But the pencil is different. It becomes smaller and smaller as you sharpen it. Break down, sharpen, smaller. Break down, sharpen, smaller. The cycle goes on. Until the pencil is no more. -- Dear Mom/Dad, First of all, sorry Dad, I forgot to include you in my past letters. Were you able to read it? Do you have, like, a spiritual mailman or something? Not that I sent it. As cheesy as it sounds, yes, I kept those letters. In my heart. (and in a box beneath my bed) You, (I'll consider both of you as one person) were always, always my sharpener. You picked me up when I was down, and taught me to stand up straight again. But the sharpeners gone. And the pencil is no more. It's reached it's smallest capacity until finally, it ceases to exist. What do I do now? I become the pen. That's what you would have said, Dad. So here is what's been happening in my ****py life. Tiara's still a *****. Jayden is my boyfriend. (I'm still waiting for that explanation) Liam and I are awkward with a capitol AWKWARD. Mr. and Mrs. Samuels are being incredibly bias about everything. I know it sounds wrong;mean;rude, whatever, but honestly, I wished you were the one that survived. Then maybe Tiara could get a taste of losing something, right? Anyway, I've actually stopped doing my arts after..you know...that. "What?! Nurture you're GIFT, darrrliiiinnnggg!" That's what Grandma would've said if she were cooking her infamous stew over in our kitchen. So I'm going to do just that. No, not cooking lethal stew, but the nurturing part. So, I'm going to go. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. And guess what? I miss you. Shoving the letter into the box, then stuffing the box under my bed, I got up. I put on some boy shorts, and a pair of Chucks. Scott once told me that no one used the garage here. He had asked the Samuels for me if I could paint there, and thankfully, they said yes. I boarded down the stairs, head down, playing with the paint brushes and paints in my hands. "Oof!" "S-Sorr-" I found myself staring at Liam's eyes, captivated. He broke away first, sadly, and bent down to pick up my fallen arts. "Uh-thanks-" I murmured, bending down to help him too. As we both reached down to catch the yellow paint, our hands touched, and I don't know, maybe out of instinct, I flinched, pulling away. "..Sorry.." he muttered, thrusting the paints at me. "T-Thanks." I felt like an idiot. "So..um..I'll go..now.." he said, softly, gesturing upstairs. I realized I had been blocking his path, "Oh! Yeah." I shifted away, also making my way to the garage. Being the compassionate and maybe bombarded with pity brother he was, Scott already set up my canvass panel for me. Pushing Liam out of my mind, I walked excitedly to the canvass. Let's do this. I started painting, swift, quick, graceful movements. I was painting..a portrait. Of us. My family before the accident. My eyes reared up once I realized what I was doing. "That's nice," I spun around, and my jaw dropped. "T-Tiara?!" She waved my surprise away, "Yes, Tash, it's me." she smiled at me, and I had to grip the canvass panel to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. "Um. What are you doing here?" I asked, kind of suspicious. "That's a pretty painting," she mused, ignoring my question. I looked at my half-done picture, "Thanks," I shifted uncomfortably. "You must miss them," she said softly. "Yeah. I do." I hung my head. "I came here to say that..I'm sorry," Gasp. The evil witch of the west has turned to a honest and actually-good Elphaba?! I raised my eyebrows, "Reaally?" Her head bobbed up and down, "Yes. And to make it up to you, I'm going to treat you to a mani-pedi tomorrow," she smiled. It was genuine. "Uh..." "Please?" "Okay." She clasped her hands in delight, "GREAT! Tomorrow, 10AM. And....I'll stop being mean in school. You can even sit with us in lunch." I nodded, still not comprehending what was happening. "Bye!" she chirped, and left. WHAT JUST HAPPENED? IS THAT LONG ENOUGH TO MAKE UP FOR NOT UPDATING? Yes, I think it is.