Years ago, I crafted the most beautiful words. I used a fountain pen and fancy linen paper, and for once my heart’s blood mixed splendidly with the ink. I wrote of a boy and his dazzling smile. I wrote to the depths of his soul, and mine.

I wrote of my love for him.

The sheet of paper was carefully folded and slipped into an envelope. I gave it to the boy, and after reading it he tossed it into the trash. People snickered as he walked away, and I realized that those beautiful words I had crafted had failed to win me his dazzling smile. My heart’s blood meant nothing. I wondered if it ever would.

High school.

It’s a bitch.