Mikki Daughtry

trying to ignore the fact that that open space? It will always be there.

And I realize I’m doing the one thing I’ve told myself this whole time I wouldn’t do. I’m wanting something I can never have.

“You’re going to be just fine, Stella.”

His voice is deep. Soft. I know in that moment, even though it could not be more ridiculous, that if I die in there, I won’t die without falling in love.

I’m tired of living without really living. I’m tired of wanting things. We can’t have a lot of things. But we could have this.

I take a step toward the door, wanting to see him now more than I want to even breathe.

It’s right here, close enough to touch. But I can’t. I didn’t know it was possible to want something so bad you could feel it in your arms and your legs and in every breath you take.

I can’t take my eyes off her.

I can’t take my eyes off her.

The red ribbon in her hair. The rose tucked behind her ear. The way she keeps looking at me.

What’s the point? I’ll die or they will, and this cycle of people dying and people grieving will just continue.

Poe pushed everyone away so he wouldn’t hurt them, but it didn’t make a bit of difference. Michael is still sitting on his bed, crushed, the weeks they could have had together spiraling through his head. Whether I die now or ten years from now, my parents will be crushed. And all I’ll have done is make myself miserable focusing on a few extra breaths.