Friday, May 30

Because my class is at 11:45

I like confessions. However flawed my reasoning was to justify looking at some of the saddest, most pathetic ones, reading some of them lifts my spirits. Perhaps not, but I do find myself smiling at some of them. That must count for something.

Such was the case today, when my eyes settled over a certain confession written by a boy. It sounded all too familiar, it was typed in a matter that was all too familiar. So I held my breath as I read it over. And then it hit me.

It's not him. It couldn't possibly be him. Now, I am merely just another face in the crowd of people who deserve nothing else but apathy. After realizing that, my smile faded and I was (and am) left to face reality. How long will I be able to keep up the smile that withers the very instant no one is there to see that bitterly synthetic expression?