Too late, too late, juice pouring does not a kind soul make, and I killed you.

The world will knock you down plenty. You don't need to be doing it to yourself.

The truth is, I feel beyond sad. I feel empty. Numb.

Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy. Being happy makes you want to talk, to go over everything, to share it so you can remember it all over again.

I want to care, but I don't. I look at you and all I feel is tired. I walk through school and all I want to do is leave. I wake up in the morning and don't know why I'm here. I feel like I'm not real.

Things change. Stuff happens. Life goes on.

And now I see what has been there all along, what I've noticed but never truly understood until now. Eli is as uncertain as I am, as we all are. Life has surprised him like it has me. Has hurt him like it has me.