The worst part about us is that you moved on and I didn't.
We talk a lot, every day and get to know each other in the new light we've discovered. It becomes so much more than anything I've ever had with anyone else.
I didn't expect to break down in the middle of my stairs. I didn't expect to be crying so hard I couldn't talk.
Some nights you just sit there and the past year flows through your mind. You realize you're not the person you used to be. You realize your friends aren't the same ones you used to have.
It was August 15, 2011, the Monday before school started back up. I was sleeping over at Meghan, one if my good friend's houses. She brings you up and I remember you from your visit over the summer.
The first day I ever met you, you had come to my church visiting family. I thought you were just the most attractive thing, and I told myself I was going to make out with you by the end of the day.
I'm going to tell our story. From beginning to end, or until now, or whenever I think the end is, if there even is one..
If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see, you can find out first hand, what it feels like to be me..
I keep the letters you wrote to me, and I take them out when I get lonely. I cry at all the same parts and laugh at all the same parts every time, but they never get old..