There is a saying that goes like this “Home Is Where The Heart Is.” If that saying is true then my home is with the girl that stole my heart with a single look. But my home is in a small house with seven other people in it. I have the smallest room in the house. My room, if you would call it that, is a tiny little compartment under the staircase leading to the basement. If I were with her I would be able to be there when she needed me the most. Like if she needed a shoulder to cry on she could cry on mine. Or to protect her from the nasty people in the world. To save her when she feels trapped. But most of all to talk her out of killing herself because she doesn’t want to be here anymore.
I still do wish I was with her.