"it's Gonna Be Okay," I Said. It

Okay, So If That's Not Real, What Is? What Counts, To You?" He Thought For A Second, Then Said, "i Don't Know. Just Because Someone's Pretty Doesn't Mean She's Decent. Or Vice Versa. I'm Not Into Appearances. I Like Flaws, I Think They Make Things Interesting." I Wasn't Sure What Answer I'd Expected. But This Wasn't It. For A Second, I Just Sat There, Letting It Sink In. "you Know," I Said Finally, "saying Stuff Like That Would Make Girls Even Crazier For You. Now You're Cuteand Somewhat More Attainable. If You Were Appealing Before, Now You're Off The Charts.

Like I, Of All People, Didn't Know Better Than To Lead A Total Stranger To The Point Where They Could Hurt Me Most, Knowing How Easily They'd Be Able To Find Their Way Back To It.

How Weird Was It That So Many Bits And Pieces, All Diverse, Could Make Something Whole. Something With Potential. 'perfect.

Some Things Don't Last Forever, But Some Things Do. Like A Good Song, Or A Good Book, Or A Good Memory You Can Take Out And Unfold In Your Darkest Times, Pressing Down On The Corners And Peering In Close, Hoping You Still Recognize The Person You See There.

Instead, We Just Sat There, Together But Really Apart, Watching A Show About A Stranger And All Her Secrets, While Keeping Our Own To Ourselves, As Always.