Why did I never fall in love with this boy? I ask ymself as I curl up on an armchair after the worst few weeks I can remember for a long time.
He's witty and intelligent and caring and kind and everything I always look for and walk straight past. He would be. Perfect.
I used to be the thing he breathed for. I wonder when that stopped. I know why it stopped. Me. I stopped it. Because I'm a bitch, and I'm selfish and I rarely think about the consequences of my actions. At least, not then anyway.
What is it they say? In another time, in another place, we'd have been perfect for each other? Well the time is now and the place is here but he seems to have left me behind again.
Younger than me, by barely months, but older than I will ever be. I wish I knew how he ticked, and what keeps him breathing now.