The essay was handwritten in his neat cursive yet aggressive handwriting. That was the first thing I noticed about the essay. The second was the title.

I did not waste another breath. I read it.

Fairytale Green

Drizella Miller once told me she transcended stereotypes. I think she transcends everything. There is nobody like her. Nothing like her. If that girl told me she was from a different planet then I think I would believe her.

The night I met her, she mentioned that she saw a green light. So did I. It shone so brightly that I could see nothing else but her. It still does.

In the Great Gatsby, the green light symbolises hope and dreams. The one thing you want more than anything. She is my green.

My fairytale green. The colour of trees at our outdoor wedding. The colour of the grass I will sit with her when we are old where we will shake our fist at skateboarders who trespass. It is the green of her hair. It is her.

Yes, I remembered her whole speech about her colour word by word from that night because I was a lovesick fucker instantly. I fell in love with her the second I saw her. She wears her wild and wonderful personality on her face for all to see. Unashamed and beautiful.

I never gave her the name Medusa because her hair was green. I gave her the name because my fate by her side was sealed as soon as her doe eyes met mine. I will forever be next to her, unable to move like a statue. The name is ironic. Medusa turns people to stone by her gaze but I was stone before her. She brought me to life.

She has a brightness about her that is so infectious and there is no cure. The only time I feel at peace is when I see the green. There is so much anger built up inside of me but as soon as I see the colour, it fades away because I know she is there. My mood depends entirely on her. When she is happy I feel complete and when she is not then I know that I would do fucking anything to put a smile back on her face.