My Problem Might Be That Even If

One Choice One Choice, Decided Your Friends. One Choice, Defines Your Beliefs. One Choice, Determines Your Loyalties - Forever. Once Choice Can Transform You

Shh,” I Say. “arms Around Me.” Obediently, He Slips Both Arms Around My Waist. I Smile At The Wall. I Am Not Enjoying This. I Am Not, Not Even A Little Bit, No.

I Think That You Are The Liar!" I Say, My Voice Quaking. "you Tell Me You Love Me, You Trust Me, You Think I'm More Perceptive Than The Average Person. And The First Second That Belief In My Perceptiveness, That Trust, That Love Is Put To The Test, It Falls Apart." I Am Crying Now, But I Am Not Ashamed Of The Tears Shining On My Cheeks Or The Thickness Of My Voice. "so You Must Have Lied When You Told Me All Those Things... You Must Have, Because I Can't Believe Your Love Is Really That Feeble.

Sometimes Crying Or Laughing Are The Only Options Left, And Laughing Feels Better Right Now.

When You're A Writer, You Hear Your Internal Critic, And That's Really Hard To Get Over. And Then Sometimes You Hear Critiques From Classmates And Stuff. But When A Book Comes Out, It's Just Hundreds Of Opinions And You Have To Learn To Separate Out The Ones You Want To Listen To Or Figure Out Many You Want To Listen To.