He is not the only boy you will ever love, this has only hit you so hard because you have never felt it before, it doesn’t matter that he likes the same music you do and that his hands are the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. He will hate you for writing about him like he put the stars in the sky, he will hate you for reasons that neither of you understand, but four years later he will love you. Four years later, it will be too late and he cannot keep the girl who ran out of breath just trying to catch him. There will be others.
…I’m someone who’s mostly dead inside but still has a little hope for something extraordinary, which, as I said, is the worst breed of human, because it means I know everything is bullshit, but that I secretly hope for the day when it might not be.