Things couldn't stay the same forever.

If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms.

Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece of your heart, always.

But just because you bury something, that doesn't mean it stops existing. Those feelings, they'd been there all along. All that time. I had to face it.

I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn't expect was to feel so much grief.

But the little things are what make up life

Happiness is a Slurpee and a hot pink straw.