At fourteen, I didn't deserve to be in this way of being. Eyebags 4 years young and a newly broken heart, stubborn for loving the wrong person over and over. That is one of the stories I have under the crease on my face I'll have when I'm 93 and dying. If only I lasted till then for my smoke filled lungs are turning old and my throat is constantly burning. The etching thought of you still in my head none of which anything could take away but thank god for dying into new at 14 because now I don't love you as much as I did and maybe this is God's way of saying I'll be okay. But what do I know about all these bullshit,I'm 14 anyways