Back in my day…

As a child I read a lot of books that were probably really bad for me. Romance novels, mystery novels, novels where someone important died at end and I was to little to realize that crying over fictional characters would get me laughed at as I aged. I am totally over that though, no hard feelings towards people who made fun of my…well.. my feelings. I am going on a tangent here…

See, back in my day romance had a different flavor. I was to little to understand how authors battled each other for the spotlight. To me they wrote for the fun of it and weren’t oppressed by societies expectations. They did not feel the same pain us lowly untalented plebs went through. It was until I was older that I learned any differently but still I drowned myself in the worlds of others. Teaching myself to see through their eyes with a greater understanding then my peers. I wanted to witness love from places reality could not touch.

So is it any wonder that I feel in love with R.L Stine‘s Fear Street Series.

Yes, I know what you are thinking “R.L Stine isn’t a romance writer”. In this you would be correct but the thing is romance written for children and young adults do not look the same for romances for adults. We get things like Hunger Games, Twilight, Looking For Alaska, Remember me, and Green Angel. Books that may have some romantic elements but cover a wide range of other genres. These are our introductions into the world of romance. As adults we will get to read books that are actually centered about the idea of love but until then we are traumatized into thinking that the dude with the murder boner for innocent people is our fated mate.

So yea, I got my twisted ideas of romance on the lap of the dude who gave us Goosebumps.

Back in my day bad boys ruled the world. The badder the better. I feel in love with the maniac murderer because he was the only one to treat the protagonist with any sort of kindness. I mean sure, he shot some dude in the face but true love concurs all. OK yea, he was stalkish and creepy, but did you hear him describe the way she looked as he watched her while she was sleeping.

Swoon




Killer Instinct: Story Of A Cliche Teen

Jasper dreams rasping behind closed doors

Pretty boys fall in love with unexpected girls

Trouble happens and all soon ignored

Lies get told and told and told some more

Hidden behind a well tamed fist

Tears fall down though more lies about not being pissed

Days flow by and by and by

Truths are told beneath a starry sky

Romance happens to be forgotten again

Lies prevail because that is the truth that sells

Corruption of a good friend is expected now

Someome dies and we crawl towards an end

Some kisses shared a please don’t tell

But of course to be discovered

‘THAT PERSON IS YOUR LOVER’

Kept away to be safe only released because of plot

Devices deceived by a sellout plot

More drama and drama and drama

But then end draws near

Hopeless life is resuced despite our cries

Please just let the stupid bitch die!

What was once ignored, a romance, is now happening before our eyes

Suddenly and suddenly and suddenly see

The heroine we hate (or love) starts to fade

The Hero we crave (or whom disgust) doomed to save

Writes the end but to be continued on another day

 

 

What a stupid teen cliche.

K