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I'll let you in...I'll let you in... I'll tell you my deepest secrets.
Share with you the things I've hidden.
Fantasies and day dreams,
things I wish would could come true.
I'll let you in... I'll admit things I haven't before.
Tell you sincerely how I really feel.
Uncertainty and love collide,
as if I could avoid the complications by remaining mute.
I'll let you in... I'll trust you completely.
Release the fear of getting hurt.
Depending and relying upon,
not thinking about the consequences.
I'll let you in... and I'll try my absolute best.
Begin to truly make an effort.
Frustration and confusion no matter,
time to simply wing it and hope it works.
Are we ever truly ready?Are we ever truly ready?
We learnt to walk at an early age, our parents taught us to speak.
Born with the abilities to dance and the right type of voice to sing.
Ready to take to the stage and preform to our high standards.
Against all odds we'll rock the house, leaving you breathless.
We don't get second chances, it's all or nothing once we're up there.
Hours, weeks, months of extensive practice and rehearsal, all for one night.
Warming up our vocals, trying to shake off all of our nerves.
Our director tells us we're ready, we know that we could be better but there's no time.
Spotlights shining down, exposing us for all to see, blinding us from their stares.
Beginning the first number, swaying back and forth to the tune, voices cracking at first.
Starting off with a slow song, we're nervous and we can hear mistakes, but still there's applause.
The speed picks up, we start to dance, smiles appear and the fun really begins.
We are truly ready.
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More