Picture this. In 10 years I bump into on the street. I say hi, you say it back. I ask how your life is. You tell me about your wife and kids. And when you do, it will break my heart. Not because I don't want you to be happy. Because that's all I want. But because that's all I want. But because 10 years ago...I pictured somebody else asking you how your life is, and you would tell them about me.
One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.