Every fiction has its base in fact.

...no way through it but through it," I tell myself.

But seventeen is an inconvenient time to fall in love.

Losing me will hurt; it will be the kind of pain that won't feel real at first, and when it does, it will take her breath away.

I'll be your mess,you be mine That was the deal that we had signed I bought a hazmat suit to clean up your waste Gas masks,gloves,to keep us safe But now i'm alone in an empty room Staring down immaculate doom "Messy

And if I'm not forgiven, then at least I'm understood.

My first impulse is not to grab her or kiss her or yell at her. I simple want to touch her cheek, still flushed from the night's performance. I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet-not miles, not continents, not years-and to take a callused finger to her face.