Heart on a Chain

This is stupid, Kate. I love you. I want to be with you. Today, tomorrow, always. And I know you love me. Tell me I’m wrong about you, about why you left me. Tell me you don’t love me.

Well, those who aren’t waiting for you don’t know what they’re missing.

The feel of arms around me, in comfort rather than as restraint or in harmful intent, undoes me. I cry for all the years of mocking and teasing received at the hands of my peers, for having been born to hateful, careless parents. I cry for the fact that this one good, kind boy has joined the game. And That makes me think it’s hopeless to find any goon in anyone, which only makes me cry harder.

Kate, I’ve loved you for years. I mean, I know twelve-year-olds don’t know what love is, so I guess I should say I’ve really liked you for years. But when I saw you this year, I knew. I knew we should be together. I just didn’t know how hard you were going to make me work to get you to even like me. So, yeah, of course I want you to love me back.

That doesn’t sound quite right to me—what choice did I have but to survive?

You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way things are at school. I’m everyone’s favorite loser. There isn’t anyone more fun to pick on then me.

No puedo imaginar nada mejor, nada que quiera más, o nada que alguna vez llegue a desear más que tenerla en mis brazos. Para siempre.

You don't ever play games, make me guess what it is you want, or what you're thinking. You're not afraid of getting dirty, you don't worry about if your hair looks just right, or get angry about having your prom in the woods.