Chapter 1: The Good Old Days

We walked down to the gas station and bought all we could buy with four dollars (two lemonades, a bag of gummy worms, and two airheads). We took our junk and brought it down to the old bridge. A shelter of wood and peeling red paint protected us from reality's harsh hands.

I remember when we were kids. We always said we would camp out on that bridge and stay up all night telling ghost stories. We never did, but it was the thought that counted. That was the way it always was for us. Never think was our motto. We were just there for each other, always.

But then it happened. I fell in love with a boy. I thought he was perfect. All I could talk about was him. I fell. Hard. Pretty soon, he owned every part of me, and I'd willingly handed them over, one by one. At first, you were fine with it. Maybe a bit annoyed, but fine. You listened to "Omg, did you see his hair today? So cute!" and "I really loved his shirt!" and "Guess what he said to me in study hall? He likes the same band I do! Can you believe it?" and "Ugh, I just want to go out with him so baaaad!" So you told me to just ask him out.

Just ask him out. I'd only ever made that leap once, and the relationship had lasted less than a week. I wasn't too excited to try it out again. But I said yes, and you talked to him to see if he would go out with me. I hoped with all my heart that you would say yes. I wished you would want to go out with me. I dreamed that the very next day, maybe we would hold hands or sit at the same lunch table together.

My hopes, wishes, and dreams were crushed.
He didn't even say no. He lied and said he had a girlfriend. Just to avoid the question.
And so began the chain reaction that started the deterioration of everything we'd ever known.

I'm sorry, so sorry.