Writers write because they have to.

“You are the story that never got told, and the only one I want to read.”

Tris had no idea where she wanted to go. By now, she figured her parents were trying to find her, so she made the risky move of heading to the not so great parts of town hoping they wouldn’t look here. Old buildings of failed businesses lined the streets along with dust and decrepit walkways. This was considered the forgotten part of the town, which actually was pretty nice for a small area. The forgotten area was right on the outskirts before a long set of woods. Many of the teens up to no good hung out around here. Tris had never ventured over here until now. The air reeked of dust and cigarette smoke. Tris’ virgin lungs stung and burned. Coughs escaped her mouth although she tried to hold them in. She walked slow to avoid stepping on any of the broken glass that lined the broken down curbs. This place hadn’t been tended to in years. Tris remembered when they wanted to turn it into a shopping mall, but the vote lost because it was too much money to restore the area right now.

I wasn’t there at your worst, so I didn’t expect you to be there at mine. But, there you were. You did everything for me that I couldn’t do for you, let alone myself. 

You were almost the words on my endless pages of writing. You were almost the main character in a story that will never have an ending. You were almost the ink I’d use to write you over and over again because I couldn’t get you out of my mind. But you spilled yourself on my pages. You smudged the words I carefully picked out to represent you. You gave an ending to my neverending story and I haven’t recovered. The pages are misnumbered, the ideas are strayed, and you were your own character’s fatal flaw.

Make me feel like I'm not a lost cause.

Disconnect two hearts to disconnect a souls reason for existing.

Zane’s eyes fought to stay open. He fought to stay on the world. There was little light left in him. Even with the dim light, it was still brighter than even the largest star. His voice, that was once melodic, was tainted with strings of pain. Words that could sing became scratches against a chalkboard.