I won't let that night ruin you forever." But it did, it broke me into a million pieces and blew them away in the wind, like crumbled leaves.

Come with me somewhere. Please. I've been waiting eight months to talk to you

That’s you. Callie, you’re the only person that’s ever made me feel happy about anything. That night you saved me, you changed something in me—you made me want to live.

But we all make mistakes. It’s how we fix them that makes us who we are.

People say that time heals all wounds, and maybe they're right. But whit if the wounds don't heal correctly, like when cuts leave behind nasty scars, or when broken bones mend together, but aren't as smooth anymore? Does it mean they're really healed? Or is it that the body did what it could to fix what broke.

How am I supposed to move forward in life when everything important to me is motionless?

I've never felt like this before, with anyone. It's against the rules of surviving.