Because When Something Happens, She's The Person

Even Though I'm Seventeen, I Guess I Still Thought This Would Always Be True - That There Would Always Be That Lost-and-found, And Not The Lost-and-still-lost That I Am Now Trapped Inside.

Having Someone Think Of Me That Way Was Like Discovering A New Window In The Room I'd Lived In All My Life.

The Older I Get, The More I Lose My Ability To Breathe.

I Couldn't Fault Her For Believing, Because I Had To Imagine I Was Nice To Have That Illusion Still Intact.

Things Are Going So Well. We’re Volleying Words Back And Forth. Everything She Says, I Have Something I Can Say Back. We’re Sparking, And Part Of Me Just Wants To Sit Back And Watch. We’re Clicking. Not Because A Part Of Me Is Fitting Into A Part Of Her. But Because Our Words Are Clicking Into Each Other To Form Sentences And Our Sentences Are Clicking Into Each Other To Form Dialogue And Our Dialogue Is Clicking Together To Form This Scene From This Ongoing Movie That’s As Comfortable As It Is Unrehearsed.