I Was In My Bed

I Walk Around The School Hallways And Look At The People. I Look At The Teachers And Wonder Why They're Here. If They Like Their Jobs. Or Us. And I Wonder How Smart They Were When They Were Fifteen. Not In A Mean Way. In A Curious Way. It's Like Looking At All The Students And Wondering Who's Had Their Heart Broken That Day, And How They Are Able To Cope With Having Three Quizzes And A Book Report Due On Top Of That. Or Wondering Who Did The Heart Breaking. And Wondering Why.

Maybe He Didn’t Really Encourage Me To Do Things, But He Didn’t Prevent Me From Doing Them Either. But After A While, I Didn’t Do Things Because I Didn’t Want Him To Think Different About Me. But The Thing Is, I Wasn’t Being Honest. So, Why Would I Care Whether Or Not He Loved Me When He Didn’t Really Even Know Me?

It's Like Looking At All The Students And Wondering Who's Had Their Heart Broken That Day, And How They Are Able To Cope With Having Three Quizzes And A Book Report On Top Of That.

On That Piece Of White Paper, Sam Wrote, "write About Me Sometime." And I Typed Something Back To Her, Standing Right There In Her Bedroom. I Just Typed. "i Will.

I Just Want You To Know That You’re Very Special… And The Only Reason I’m Telling You Is That I Don’t Know If Anyone Else Ever Has.