Reminiscing.

I don’t talk to you enough. On the bus, I’m too absorbed in my iPod to talk to you. As much as it pains me to admit it, listening to Oliver Sykes scream the lyrics to Suicide Season is much more fun than trying to hear you over the shrieks of the irritating, yet lovable middle school children I’ve grown up with. I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve said that sooner because now you sit with Erick – the manwhore…well, as whorish as a seventh grader can be. I want to grab you and run away whenever I see you near him. I can see it in his eyes: he wants you. And once he’s done with you, I hope you’ll let me pick up the pieces of your heart.

Now I have to sit with Haley Murray, which I shouldn't complain about - since I found out today that she's bisexual - but I'd much rather sit with you.