Color Me Pretty

melt into the most perfect slice of reality that I could've ever imagined.
    Up, up, up I was flying.
    I don't just dress myself, I dance into my gown. I spin, and I don't care who's looking or what they think of me. I just do what I need to do, and I know that they're absorbing it, watching me exist in the here and now, and I hope they're taking notes.
    Up and even higher into me until I had climbed too far to fall.
    After I'm dressed, I sneak over to the edge of the runway and peek out, letting my eyes crawl across the crowd, wondering how many of these people are here because they're hurting, because they're looking for a way out, a way to escape the pain and step into the light. I scan them all until I find the people that I'm looking for, the ones that I've been missing like crazy through all of this.
    And I wished I had never doubted so deep.
    It's not just my parents who come to see me, not just my friends, but also some of my worst enemies. Self-Harm sits next to Bulimia who's holding hands with Depression. I ignore them all and focus on Anorexia who's smiling at me from the end of the catwalk. My demons have come to cheer me on, to see what I've become without them, and I know that they'll always be there, watching and waiting. But they're not a threat, not anymore. As long as I have love for myself, it fills that hole that's deep down inside, and there's nobody in the world that can take that away from me.
    And the sun warmed my skin.
    A smile curls my lips as I watch Lianna's designs move down the runway, and my hands curl into fists in the blue fabric. I can do this. I've always wanted to do this. I look up and get ready to move forward, show off my own creation, pausing only when Emmett's hand brushes my shoulder, his lips my ear.
    And I took my first breath.
    “Good luck, Claire Simone,” he tells me when what he really means is, I love you.
    And in that moment …
    In that moment, I reach up and touch his hand, feel the warmth flowing from him into me and vice versa. Now that I've learned to care about myself, I can channel my own heat. I turn my head for a kiss, and the sounds around me quiet, taking a backseat to the pounding of my heart. When he pulls away, the air between us sizzles. “Break a leg,” he says. “And when you're finished, I'll be waiting at the end. I'll always be waiting.”
    I had my epiphany.
    I take a deep breath and step out onto the runway.
    Love, Me.
    The End

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About the Author
    C.M. Stunich was raised under a cover of fog in the area known simply as Eureka, CA. A mysterious place, this strange, arboreal land nursed Caitlin's (yes, that's her name!) desire to write strange fiction novels about wicked monsters, magical trains, and Nemean Lions (Google it!). She currently enjoys drag queens, having too many cats, and tribal bellydance.
    She can be reached at [email protected], and loves to hear from her readers. Ms. Stunich also wrote this biography and has no idea why she decided to refer to herself in the third person.
    Happy reading and carpe diem!
    www.cmstunich.com