For my story is as sad as it is monotonous, I can’t bare to think of it myself some days for I have retold the story in my mind a million times over...there. A child who’s days of youth were stolen from her. A child who was forced to grow up to early, to see things most never see. To be told not to cry, for that makes you weak, those words alone made her weep even more as a child-woman. To watch with wild eyes those around her loosing precious moments of their lives, to waste them away, to drown. We grew closer over the course of around 3 years and eventually I built up the courage to tell him I liked him. He declined my offer to become 'more than friends,' but at the age of just seventeen I knew we were both young and fragile, so decided I would just live with him being my friend. That was okay for another couple of years, and I would do anything to be close to him. As we grew older, I started to notice him a little more each time I saw him. He had recently started working out and at. More

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