A: A Memoir

This memoir was actually an assignment for an English class and it took a lot to write this and share it even with just my teacher but it really helped my healing process.

“A”:
A Memoir
March 2013






















“People are like stained glass windows. they sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.”
-Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

"Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you was beyond my control."
- Unknown


“Last night I sent an angel to watch over you while you were sleeping. It came back early and I asked it why? It said, ‘Angels don’t watch other Angels’”
- Unknown

“You are beautiful, don’t ever doubt that.”
-A





























For A, an angel sent from heaven. She has taught me more lessons in a year than I will ever learn in all my years of schooling. I love you, A, forever and always.


















AN INTRODUCTION: THE BEGINNING
A is the most influential person in my life. She puts the color inside my world, yet at the same time my tears are shed over her. I found out at the beginning of my freshman year of highschool she was and had been suffering from depression since seventh grade. Because of me, us, my friends. She didn’t have anyone for the past two years. All through eighth grade she weighed 90 pounds. She was starving herself. Not because she was anorexic; didn’t like her body. Because she saw no point, no point to living. Her depression was from different things, but mostly because she was and felt alone. Isolated. All alone, she had no one. She was her own island, drowning in a dark and overwhelming sea. We could have been there for her. She put up walls; became defensive and angry. She hooked up with guys to drown out her sorrows, mask her sexuality. She had known since second grade that she liked girls. She tried to hide it, for all those years. But that didn’t do anything. It didn’t make her feel any less lonely. All of these things and more contributed to her depression; it got worse as the weeks and months went on. We could have been there for her. I regret it everyday. She burned herself, cut herself, trying to destroy herself; there was no point in living. In the fall, she would cut herself in class, in front of my sister. Her precious blood was spilled and it makes me cry every time I think of her hurting. It was a cry for help. It’s better now. She’s better. She has friends, she sees hope. At the beginning of this year, she came out to us, just our friends. Of course we were all accepting. Now she regrets it, though. She can’t hug a girl without people assuming there’s a romantic connection. I hate that I could have been so blind to the fact that she was hurting. She is the most important person in my life now. I couldn’t live without her. She’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. She’s completely selfless. She’s trying, trying so hard. For me. Because I need her to be okay. I need her to be happy. When she’s upset or angry or sad, I feel it. But nothing can compare to when she’s happy. I love when she’s happy. But I love her, no matter what mood she’s in. No matter how many scars she has. No matter what she feels. I love her and I always will. I would do anything for her, anything at all. Everything is because I love her, more than anything. She asked me, “If I left, would you come with me?” I don’t know what she meant. Leave what? Go where? “Yes”, I said. It didn’t matter. I would go anywhere with her, for whatever reason. She matters the most to me in this world. She is so unloved. Only a few people love her. She needs to be loved and she needs to know she is an exceptional person who deserves love. She has me, that’s all I know. She is more important than any other person. I will always be there for her. I never want her to feel alone again. She knows I love her and she knows she means the world to me. The fact that she knows can almost make up for the fact that I ever took part in causing her all that pain and misery. Almost.
THE LETTER
I wrote A a letter. A love letter, you could call it. I wrote it on a plain, white sheet of paper, in black pen. Just that one page, front and back. At the end of the letter, I asked her a question. A very important question, but I almost meant it to be rhetorical. She read the letter during class: I saw her smiling. She couldn’t answer the question or say anything about the letter just then. Later, she said she needed to think. That was okay with me. It was an important question after all. The next night, she texted me, saying, “Can I call you? I have an answer.” I hate talking on the phone, especially when there’s other people in the room and they can hear your conversation. But I was alone in my room, lying on my bed, done with homework. “Yes”, I said, “Just for a few minutes though--make it quick.” We discussed her thoughts over the phone, the pros and cons of answering the question with “yes”. I said, “You don’t have to say yes. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, you don’t have to say yes.” She replied with, “But I don’t want to say no.” That is one of the best things I have heard in my life. I think she could hear me smiling through my voice, my soul was smiling. “Well, there’s your answer then”, I said. Her voice sounded tired, but in a good way; like she had just had a fun day, a long but fun day. I could hear her smiling. This was something new for her, something I think she has always wanted but never been able to have--a mutual romance. She said, in that lovely voice of hers, “So is Saturday night our first date then?” I laughed. That sounded absolutely perfect to me. “Yes, I think so.” After we hung up the phone, I couldn’t help but stupidly smiling. there was something nagging at me though, and I wasn’t sure what it was. It came to me--even though she had answered the question, she had said yes, she hadn’t phrased her answer the way I phrased the question. I texted her saying, “Just to clarify, can I call you mine now?” “Yes ma’am”, she said proudly. That was the second best moment of my life. My question was “Will you be mine?” And now she was. I can’t describe the feeling of complete and utter happiness. In that moment, I was blissfully happy and I think, for once in her life, she was too. And that made me smile. That happiness, that completely innocent and wonderful happiness, only lasted for a short amount of time. That Friday night, I had some friends over to my house. A was unable to make it. Later that night, after everyone left, I texted her saying, “What have you been up to?” She replied with, “If I told you, you would kill me.” Fear surrounded me. My first thought was, Is she ok? Did she hurt herself? But no. She didn’t hurt herself. She hurt me instead. She told me that the girl she had been in love with before she liked me, that girl, came over to her house and they were hanging out and talking for six hours straight. The girl, who both of us thought was straight, kissed A. And A realized, “then and only then” that “she still had feelings” so she kissed her back. I asked her if she even thought about me once. She said that she did, but it faded because her feelings for this other girl were stronger. The fact that this had already happened to me once before, with a boy, and the fact that it was happening again but this time with a girl, made me absolutely vicious with anger. I exploded at A, asking her questions and telling her off. Even though I knew she was not 100% happy and okay, I treated her like any other person and I got livid. My anger stood up and charged, my anger slapped her in the face. How dare she do that to me? So soon and with that girl. How dare she hurt me when she knew it was hard enough already to be admitting that I like girls? How dare she go behind my back? How dare she CHEAT on me? She may have forgotten, but she said she would be my girl, mine. She said yes. She knew I would get mad, she knew it wasn’t okay, but her feelings were clearly so strong for this girl (I still don’t know who the hell she is. I told A I at least deserve to know who the b***h was, but she didn’t even give me that. She said I would try to get revenge. F**k her! She just did this to me and she’s telling me I can’t get revenge on this girl? Who the h**l does she think she is?) that none of that mattered. She loved me as a friend and liked me romantically, yet she still did it. Even if she wasn’t “in a relationship” with me, she knew it would hurt me. It wouldn’t be cheating, but it would break my heart and she knew it. What does that say about how she felt about this other girl? Must be some girl. I’d like to meet her some day. I was pissed at her, and underneath that I was crushed. I went to bed mad at her, breaking the number one rule: Never go to bed mad. However, when I woke up on Saturday morning, I had somehow come up with a completely different mindset in my dreams. I was no longer angry, I was crushed and heartbroken and vulnerable and hurting, but I was not mad at her. I can never stay mad at her. I told her I forgive her and she said, “thank you.” After that moment, she got over that other girl. I think she did. I’m still not sure to this day if she is still in love. As much as I think I shouldn’t, I trust her. So I believe her when she says, “It’s over.” I kept trying to make her mine again. I still try to this day. I will always try. I will never give up on her, because you should never give up on someone you can’t go a day without thinking about. I will always love her, I am sure of that. She is what drives me to keep going. She is my sadness, yes, but more so than that she is my happiness. Nothing makes me happy like she can. I love everything about her, even the bad things, and she has no idea how much I love her. She cannot possibly know how much I love her because I don’t think any other person could ever love someone or something as much as I love her. My love travels down roads and dark alleys and into her soul; my love will walk for miles and miles, it will run, until it can find her and consume her soul and lie there contentedly, forever. So I’m not giving up. Never.

“The Letter” taught me how it feels to be loved and how it feels to be wanted by the person you want more than anything. It taught me what it feels like to have a place in the world, a place in someone’s heart. As much as I had already felt it, I’d already gone through it before, A taught me, in this moment, how it feels to be betrayed. How it feels to be broken, shredded to pieces. More importantly, it taught me how to forgive. A prayer that I say every day says, “Give us this day...to forgive us our trespasses, and forgive those who trespass against us.” I believe that forgiveness can set you free, and it makes you worthy of the truth, worthy of love and happiness. If you cannot forgive, you will be stuck in the past forever. Forgiveness is something that can lift you up and your soul will remember what it feels like to forgive. It will become a pattern, you will always forgive. Some may say everything must not be forgiven, it’s a sign of weakness. But the only reason I can keep going is because I put all my sins and sorrows in the hands of a higher being and He forgives me, so can’t I forgive? I can forgive myself, I have to. I have to forgive myself to love myself, so I have to forgive everything.

IN HER ARMS
Even though I had forgiven A, my heart was still broken because she didn’t love me like I love her. My heart was still broken because I couldn’t have her. My heart was still broken because everyday, I thought about A kissing that girl. My heart was still broken because I wanted so badly to be that girl. The girl A was in love with. My heart was still broken because it wasn’t her fault: she had feelings for who she had feelings for, it wasn’t her choice. I’m sure if it were her choice, she would be in love with me so she and I could both suffer a little less. But you can’t choose. So my heart was still broken. My heart is still broken. I had been taking it day by day. There were some good days, and some bad days. This was one of my worst days. I didn’t care about anything. I went through the motions of the day, my eyes glazed over and dazed. I didn’t eat. A knew it wasn’t a good day. Maybe she didn’t know how bad it actually was, but she could tell. She had been through it before. I took a walk with her between lunch and the next block. Just around the school. Before going into her next class, I said, “Can you hug me?” Gladly, she embraced me. I think it may have been many things. Her scent, the scent I would know anywhere, the scent I have grown to love. The warmth of her skin, her arms holding me tightly. The day came crashing down on me, the days, the weeks, it was just what I needed, her embrace. I started to cry into her shoulder. No, not cry. It wasn’t crying for there were not tears, really. Just heaving breaths and sobs and shaking. She held me tighter, saying, “Shh...please don’t cry.” She stroked my hair, my back. I remember being concerned I would get lipstick all over her hair and shoulder. I had been wearing a lot of makeup that day, I was concerned it was all getting messed up. Even though I was letting out all my pain, I was sad, being held by her was like nothing else. I could have stayed in her arms all day. Her arms were like a lighthouse to a ship, a mother to a daughter. That was the third best moment of my life. All I ever wanted was her, and even though she was no longer mine, being held by her was all I needed. Sure, after that I went to the nurse and lay down in the dark, alone, for half an hour until second lunch. Sure, I went right back to my sadness and thoughts and cried. I cried alone in the dark for thirty minutes. But that moment was stuck in my mind. The feeling didn’t linger, but the memory did. The memory sat on a shelf in my brain, it lay curled up in my heart. So many more times after that, I hugged her and held on for as long as I could; inhaling her scent and clutching her with all my might, feeling her hands and arms holding me. Every time I wanted to pull back and kiss her. But i will always remember that time, that hug. I had been keeping it all inside, and all it took for me to let go was her embrace. A once told me: to erase sadness and to be happy, you must be grateful. The key to happiness is realizing what you have and appreciate that more than you dwell on what you do not have. I am grateful everyday for her, for moments like this. Moments that make me forget all my troubles, all my pain, all my grief and suffering. It is all washed away for a short while by a moment like this. If everything else in the world is bad, I know I can count on her to make me happy. I know that I can have a moment like this that will give me hope and happiness. I live for moments like this.

This moment taught me that happiness exists and it can be small. It exists in a cold, dark place. This taught me that sometimes, only one person can do it for you. Only one person can make you feel that. That one person is someone that you should treasure, because if they can make you feel like that, if he or she can create happiness for you in a place so empty, then they are special. Today, I know that sometimes that one person is not good for you, but you still feel like you want and need them. You can get addicted to these moments. This moment made me realize that I am the type of person who can create happiness around me, and I know that I need people around me who can help me create that happiness. Even if it is an illusion, even if it is a facade, it needs to be created in order for me to keep going. A told me recently,“Don’t let it get to you.” She was right next to me, her arm around me, and I was stroking her warm hand, her long delicate fingers with her scars. It was easy when she said it, it was easy to believe it wouldn’t get to me, if I could just stay like that for all eternity. But that moment, that embrace, taught me I need to create more and more moments, to create sanity. Sanity shouldn’t need to be created, but if needed, it can be. It’s possible.

ALWAYS MY ANGEL
I knew I had to get over A. I always knew it, deep inside. Even though I would never give up, I still don’t want to give up, I know I have to. She told me, “Can you please try to move on? For your own sanity, your own happiness.” I thought that was the perfect way to put it. My own sanity. She was right, I was going insane. A would never love me. She said so herself, she never would. Not like that. My mom wanted me to go to therapy. Not just because of heartbreak, but because heartbreak was causing me other problems. Problems like oversleeping--I slept whenever I just wanted to slip out of reality for a while, erase all my problems for a bit. I didn’t eat. Sometimes, waves of sadness would wash over me, I couldn’t and still can’t explain these moments. Mostly, it’s when I’m thinking of A, thinking of A being with someone else, thinking of A not with me. I cry. I weep. I shake. I’m not sure if this is normal heartbreak. Sure, it’s happened to me before, but not like this. During these moments where the sadness just envelopes me, I am at rock bottom. My heart shudders and cracks into bits and pieces, more and more every time, and then she steps on the pieces, crushing them like china teacups. It’s not constant though, which is why I don’t think it’s depression. Like I said, I live for moments. I can’t think in months, or weeks even. Moment by moment, day by day. One day, I was skyping with A. We talked about music, what we were doing later, homework. The whole time, I was smiling. Just looking at her face made me smile. She’s crazy, singing and dancing around. She’s a bright star in a dark sky, when she’s happy. She had her hair down, framing her lovely face. She is so beautiful. She said, “You’re smiling.” I giggled, “It’s because I’m talking to you.” A told me she had to take a shower soon. She slowly unhooked her Tiffany heart necklace, smoothing her hair over her shoulder to one side. She then took off her earrings, so slowly and carefully. She took off her sweatshirt, and adjusted her V-neck shirt, exposing her chest, her radiant dark skin. Sometimes her beauty seeps through her, so effortlessly. Her beauty can sometimes be locked inside, but times like this the lock unhinges and falls off and her beauty shines through, like magic. Later, I told her to do me a favor. I told her, “If anyone asks, just tell them I’m fine. Because I am, I’m fine. You make me happy.” She then said, “Are you sure you’re happy?” I thought about it to reply honestly. I thought, Hell, I’m not happy. Happy people don’t randomly hit rock bottom and get so sad nothing can get him or her out of it. So I said, “No, I’m not happy. Overall, I’m not happy. But days can be happy, moments can be happy. You make me happy, moments you’re in make me happy.” She replied with, “Then forget the moments I’m not in.” That was so easy to do, because I do that most of the time anyway. I know that moments can make me happy in the moment. In the long run, though, moments are not good for me. I will never move on from her if I live my life in moments. But what can I say, it’s like an addiction. You say, just one time, just this once. But you’ll just want more and more. I know that. It will only make it harder. But if I take it day by day, moment by moment, then I can’t think of the long run. So the way I see it, the only way to get by, to scrape by, is to go moment by moment. It’s too overwhelming to think of what I’ll have to do to become whole again. Because I know it will get a lot worse before it can get better. And I need help. I just don’t know who can help and how they can help. So until I figure that out, moments. Moment by moment. But one day, things went horribly wrong. I actually was having a good day. I was driving into Boston with the window down and music on, the sun shining on my face and the wind blowing back my hair. I told A, “I feel infinite.” I didn’t feel well, though, so, sending her a picture of myself, I said, “Do I look as bad as I feel?” She answered, “No, you look absolutely beautiful and you have looked absolutely beautiful for as long as I can remember.” She then told me her mom got her a dress while she was away. She sent me a picture. It was black lace, strapless and backless with a sweetheart neckline. She sent me a picture from her neck down. She looked absolutely beautiful. Her skin was smooth and dark and her legs were beautiful, and the dress accentuated her body in all the perfect places. She said, “Should I wear it to semi?” I told her it was perfect and she told me she was excited. Excited, I thought, that’s new. I told her I was having lunch in harvard square and she told me shortly after, “Funny story, I’m going to Harvard Square.” I told her I was leaving and asked, “With whom?” She said she was going alone, to be alone, she was taking the train. She kept saying she wanted to be alone. She often needs her alone time, so I said, “Ok, have fun.” I was worried though, I always am. I asked her if I should be, and then it started to go horribly, horribly wrong. She sent me a picture of the yellow line next to the train track, the line you are not supposed to stand past. She said, “What if I just stood there?” My heart dropped to my stomach and I stopped breathing. I frantically told her to step away, don’t do it. I kept telling her. She wouldn’t respond and then she would send me a different picture. This time her foot on the metal rail of the track. Every time I said don’t do it or listen to me or step away, she said no. She finally sent me a picture of herself standing on the tracks. Someone must have taken the picture, even though she said she was going alone. I found out later she went with another friend. I don’t understand why this friend would have agreed to take these pictures, it’s twisted. She told me she was fine, to leave her alone. I told her I was coming to the train station and she told me she was fine. I found out later that the train had been coming. I didn’t get a reply, and for the first time in my life, I thought that my angel, my girl, my baby, I thought she was dead. I thought she was dead, I thought my darling A was dead. I had no way of knowing if she was okay. My phone said she had read my messages, so I thought, “ She must be alive.” But someone else could have been looking at her phone, I couldn’t know that it was actually her. About four hours later, she texted me saying, simply, “Hi.” I knew something must have happened for her to have gone from being normal one second to on the train tracks the next, but I didn’t want to ask because sometimes talking to her is like walking on eggshells and I didn’t want her to be upset. But I asked her anyway, I asked her what happened. I also asked her how her head was (she gets chronic headaches a lot) and how her heart was. She said her heart hurt and her heart hurt too. When I asked her why, she said because no one accepts her. I asked her, “If everyone could accept and love you, would that make you happy? Is that all it is?” “Yes”, she said. I told her that in life, not everyone will accept you, it’s nothing personal and nothing to be suicidal about. She told me there was nothing I could say or do that would change her decision. What decision? “To die”, she said. I can’t express the feeling of panic that one’s heart feels when it thinks it’s soul mate, it’s spirit and it’s one love is dying. This feeling of panic and pain wraps itself around the heart and tightens and tightens, constricting until you just have to wrap your arms around yourself to hold yourself, the pieces, together. I kept talking to her, kept telling her to not give up and to keep her head up, she had to keep going. She just kept telling to me stop, and to leave her alone. She said she was driving to New Hampshire and that she would talk later. How could she say she was going to kill herself and then tell me to leave her alone? I didn’t know if tonight would be the night, I didn’t know if she would be okay until Monday. What could I do until Monday, especially if she was away? I didn’t know what to do, my heart was filled with anxiety; my whole chest was constricted. I told my parents and we decided we had to take action now, we had to contact the police. An officer came to my house to ask me details and to get her phone number and address. The officer asked me to call her and if she picked up to give the phone to him. Oh, sh*t, she was going to be absolutely livid. But better mad than dead. I mean that with all seriousness. She didn’t answer, so I left a message saying, “Hey, call me when you can.” The police needed to find her, track her down. They said they would have to track her phone and send a state officer to New Hampshire, if that’s where she was. I had no idea where she was. I didn’t know if she was in New Hampshire, or driving, or at her house. All the while when I was talking to the officer, his radio was buzzing, saying “No one’s coming to the door.” They had a team at her house. This was real, this was no joke. I knew it was serious the second she told me there was nothing I could do. I just wasn’t sure that she understood the seriousness of it. She better know now that if she says she’s going to kill herself, I’m going to take it seriously. Anyone else may not care as much, or have the courage to actually do anything about it. But that’s who I am, and I sure as hell was not going to let my angel die. Not yet. She told me there was nothing I could do. She didn’t know, doesn’t know, even though I’ve told her before, the lengths I would go to for her. I told her I would do anything and so there I was, saving her life. Whether it was serious or not, then at least her parents would understand that she needs help, she needs to get better, she has needed it for a long, long time. She had been trying to fix herself, do it all on her own for so long. But he couldn’t do it alone. She needed help, and she needed help fast. As the officer was still sitting at my dining room table, I got a text from A saying, “There is a f**king police officer at my house. I can’t even believe you right now.” So she was mad, as I knew she would be. But what did she expect? I found out later she was home alone, sleeping, when the police came to the door. My mom took my phone and replied for me, saying, “A, we are all very worried about you and you are lucky to have such a loyal friend in Grace.” A replied saying, “There is no need to worry. I’m fine. No need to get the police involved.” How dare she? You can’t say “I’m going to kill myself and there’s nothing you can do about it” and then get mad when someone does something about it. She doesn’t know that I can and always will do something about it. I told her I would not let her die, and that was me not letting her die. She said there was nothing i could do, boy was she wrong. The next day, i was told to not contact her and just let it play out. Another one of my friends, A’s closest and best friend next to me, was equally involved with A’s suicide threats and all of her troubles, even more so than me, this year. That friend revealed something else to me. She said, “Can I tell you something you may not know?” I said sure and she said, “A told me about a month ago that you were and are in love with her. She told me when you told her, she called me and was incredulous. I want you to know I support you and didn’t tell anyone.” I was not mad at all at this friend, she was told what she was told. But I was pissed at A. How dare she! All her secrets are safe with me, all her burdens on me, everything is safe with me. Her life is safe with me, it’s all on me. I treat her like a princess and she treats me like sh*t and then she betrays me, betrays my trust? So now I was mad at her for that, but I also believe that sitting back and letting revenge unfold upon itself shows who is the better person. I am me, and I have the best, most loyal friends who adore me and will stand beside me no matter what. In reality, she has nothing. She may think GK is her best friend, she may think she can always turn to me. She may think all of my friends, yes mine, they are not hers, will be there for her. They won’t. Not anymore. They will be there for me, not her. When you treat me like she did, it’s all over. You have nothing anymore. That’s how I should have felt. That’s what I should’ve thought. I didn’t though. I just wanted to hold her tight, safe in my arms, forever, happy she alive. It’s all so damn complicated. I later found out that she made up a whole big story to tell her parents. She’s ruining me just to protect herself, her one little secret she just can’t let her parents know. She’s lying and lying, weaving a big web of lies that she is just going to get stuck in. Somehow, I still love her. I told her, even though we need distance and she needs to get herself together, she will not be alone. I told her that my love for her still was and will be infinite. I can’t talk to her anymore, I can’t see her, not at school, nothing. When I tried to contact her, her parents called the police, calling me a stalker. and I was ordered to cease and desist all contact with her and her family. It feels as if she is dead. All the pain that she has caused me comes crashing down and all I want to do is run to her, it’s all I know. But I can’t, maybe never again. Without her, my life feels like nothing. It is torture to get through every single day, and I have no way to know if she is alright. I know that one day things will be better. I know she is getting help, and I am getting help too. I went to a therapist, named Kelly Champion. I told her the story and she said, “Things like this are hard to handle, hard to grasp. I can help slow it down, I can help you channel your feelings, but I can’t stop it from happening and I can’t stop your pain.” Can anything stop my pain? Sometimes it feels like there is no end, no light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes I just want to give up, I want it all to stop. Sometimes it feels like there is no way out, I know there is a way out, but that is not an option for me. Perseverence is my middle name, but how much more can I take? That Saturday night, I asked A if she loved me. If she loved me, she would stay because it would be too much if she left. She said, “Yes. But not enough to suffer through life.” I love her enough to suffer through life. I love myself enough. Maybe one day, we can be friends again and we can love each other again. Maybe one day, I can fully forgive her and she can realize all the wrong she did. Maybe one day, she can be happy and I can be happy with her. Maybe one day. Until then, moments. This time, not moments with her, which used to get me by. Now that I don’t have her, it will be even harder, but I’ll have to live moment by moment.

This year has been the hardest of my life. When asked to write a memoir, I was in the midst of all of this with A, and it was a no-brainer to write about her. She was my life and there was so much to write. These events have taught me many lessons, all the hard way. I’ve learned about heartbreak, I’ve learned about sadness, deep sadness. Sadness that could kill a person. I’ve learned about lies, I’ve learned about stories. I’ve learned about betrayal and I’ve learned about the end of the wire. I’ve learned that love can make someone do insane things and love can drive you insane and love is not always this hard, and not always this twisted. I’ve learned that some people need help, but you cannot help them. I’ve learned that in relationships of all kinds, you must set boundaries. I’ve learned that happiness is something to be treasured, never take it for granted. I’ve learned that time heals everything, but sometimes it takes a lot of time and that is almost impossible to suffer through. Most importantly, I’ve learned that in the end, it is always better, and if it is not better, it is not the end.






































I love you, A.

Author's Note

At the end of each thing there's an "I learned" segment we had to do for class but its kind of stupid. The one at the end is kind of good to wrap up though so I would definitely read it.