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.

Pretend all you want, pretty girl. You and I know that deep down you’re secretly glad to be pressed up to my body.

The guy behind the counter scratches his neck. “Are you being serious?” Her face is stoic. “Absolutely. I never kid about teddy bears.

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.

You can't just change who you are on the outside and expect it to change who you are on the inside.

You really need stitches," she tells me."Or you're going to have a scar." I try not to laugh. Stitches aren't going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside. "I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside.

Just because it's broken doesn't mean it loses its importance. And I figured I'd give it to you one day when you realized it was okay to make mistakes.