When you write a book for publication, you're writing it for other people to read.
And in high school, people are always watching so there's always a reason to pose.
If I had a chance with him, I missed it. No, I didn't miss it. I threw it away.
I left. When I should have stayed.
It was love because it was worth it.
He looks out into the empty street, allowing me to sit in his car and just miss her. To miss her each time I pull in a breath of air. To miss her with a heart that feels so cold by itself, but warm when thoughts of her flow through me.