There’s a box of unlit fireworks under my bed, and god, nothing would be better right now than lighting them right in my room and watching them fire everywhere and destroy all my carefully arranged objects.

Hell, I’m wrong, what would be better would be just to know how to be a friend, the friend, the friend that I’m expected to be, that you expect me to be, ’cause goddammit it’s so hard to rise above the feelings that are in the way of our friendship, when for me it’s the other way around. You may think I’m just being inconsiderate, but honestly there’s just so much for me to consider that shutting you out is the only real option I have.

Why! Why like this. How much further from fair could this be. You have to bear the burden for feelings that you’re not responsible for, and time and again, I’m jilted into the belief that leaving you in the dark will somehow make things work out better for us.

This is what happens when a boy is denied the right to love; he next denies himself the right to friendship.