They don’t understand me. I’m thirteen, and they think that I’m too young to love. I love him, but is that too much? Is it possible that he might love me back? We’re just teenagers, middle schoolers, but I think we understand each other. For a year at least I have loved him, and we see each other everyday.

We are both condemned to sad lives. We confide in each other about our thoughts, about our family (we dearly hate), about our sadness. Everyday it is a new suicide thought, a new way to hang up the phone on a conversation I didn’t start, to hang up on life. With him, knowing he’s there, I am happy… for once… but what if he dies first?