No, honestly, your post to erika read like a precisely constructed drabble. Perfect.

This is what I meant too, Gar.

Meta-Drabble

That post does does read like a drabble. But it is still accidental. Go to a found art exhibit sometime. It will probably include, say a beautifully weathered piece of driftwood that closely remembles an old man. But the wind and the waves and tree don't get the credit; the person who thought of picking up the driftwood and pointing out the resemblence does.

So by that standard Deborah, you and Cindy are the creators of the drabble. I'm just a bit of random chaos that accidentally weathered a piece of wood into a striking pattern.

Heh. Gar's rockin' on this one. Recognising the meta! It's a nice use of the topic challenge.

BTW, Cindy, did you get my email with London Calling? Sent it - I think yesterday, maybe Monday. What is today?

I am a wallflower with dark lowered lashes and dark downturned eyes. You want me to smile for you all the time.

I am tall and fair and slender and have a terrible memory. I cannot resist an argument, the louder the better, even if I can't remember the facts.

I'm driven and pragmatic, always busy, always intense. My fuse burns brighter than you've ever seen before.

I am the belle of the ball and love to please with my laughter. I thrive when all eyes are on me.

I am heartache, every time, and you never see me coming.

Oh, man, ita. All about the persona and the anima. Nice.

deb, I did get it. I thought I responded, but my memory is a sieve these days.

eta...

I haven't read it, I just thought I'd responded to receiving it. Thank you very much for sending it. I'm excited to start it.

Two-Way Mirror

It’s not that you don’t or wouldn’t know who I am.
It’s that you choose not to.
You choose to know the me you’ve developed in your mind.
Put together from pieces of memories and events that have almost nothing to do with who I am now.
Or you put them in the wrong place.
The salt on the cake was about wondering what salt tastes like on cake. I wasn’t a jealous girl.
We have both grown; yet, you still don’t recognize that I am me.
Then again, it’s hard for me to see that I’m not you, Mom.

Damn. I'm loving this challenge.

I love it too, but that was about my sixty billionth attempt at something that didn't sound like a 14 year old being angsty.

Parker says, "Teenagers don't have the patent on angst." and they don't but I just couldn't get anything good. This, I'm mildly happy with. Not my best, but I got something I actually wasn't ashamed to share.

Well, mine was only tangentially about being a teenager - as in, I happened to be when when the core thing was going on. But that's completely not what mine was about.

Plenty of angst available as a heartbroken "loved and lost", you know?