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I used to think of my heart as a battered thing. Worn by misuse and abuse. I was wrong. I sheltered my heart so effectively that it was still in it's original plastic, still shines unscratched like a gemstone. He has been through heartbreak and pain and still he smiles and loves and forgives like nothing. A heart weathered and worn soft. I took a sledgehammer to my proud, stony heart the day I fell in love.
We are in the pits of hell, but it's quite comfy, quite cozy, so we'll make this little ditch our home. We don't dare peek over the edge to see what lies above us, above our burning heads. Much safer here, much safer.
We are a crew of the worst. We have a hydrophobic lifeguard, a vet who's afraid of claws and fur, a lion tamer who's afraid of lions, and a lion who's afraid of nothing. We have romance novel writers who scorn the very idea of true love. We have gullible skeptics.
We malfunction, but we have each other.
I'm concerned. We have to sign a waver? This sounds dangerous.
Love is dangerous. Do we need a waver for that, too?
Wait, that's waiver, not waver.
Well nevermind, then. Carry on.
We missed the mark. I missed the train. I missed the way you would brush your teeth in the middle of the living room. I missed the way you made up stories. The girl who successfully held herself hostage. The people protesting censorship by burning trees and running around screaming obscenities. The boy who never learned to speak.
Take a seat, take a seat. The tables are crowded and I don't know anyone here. How awkward. Maybe I'll just stand. I'll stand back here.
But now everyone is staring.
You have seconds to react, seconds to decide what you want your last words to be, seconds to decide who to tell your last words to. I hope you can find someone worthy of your words, when these last seconds matter. I hope you're not alone.
I'm bad with commitment. I have unfinished stories, half-drawn pictures, ideas written on notepads that I have to get to, someday, as soon as I finish everything I'm doing right now, but I don't that's going to happen. I don't feel very motivated.
Oh, for a second I thought that said leash. I don't know anything about leases. That's about houses, right?
I still live with my mom. (Of course. I'm only 15.) I don't like thinking about moving out. I miss my childhood, and I feel like I'm growing up too fast and I can't stop.
I have five browser windows up and I'm multi-tasking like crazy and planning out what site I should go to next but when I finish what I'm doing on one site, I can't remember what else I wanted to do and I search my mind and wonder and it must have been something either important or fun and I try to remember but the thought is already gone.
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