Note to Self

Prologue

Why is it even called falling in love? We should just love, not fall in love, because everything that falls becomes broken. It implies that no matter how strong one's love is it'll get shattered in seconds because it's difficult to keep a piece of paper undamaged with no crevices, but once it's crumpled up or stepped on, it can never be fixed. Even when a couple breaks up and agree to be "friends" thing won't be the same. It can't be the same. Maybe similar, but always different. So long does someone spend stuck in their internal conflict, deciphering whether or not they should tell the other person. Do they ever? Or do they just simply attempt to forget? Do they fail, or do some succeed? Just remember Michael, I can be Juliet.

She was typing constantly, unable to stop, and whatever she hadn't sent went into her drafts (which had been everything). Kyla was nervous - the feeling everyone gets at some point for different reasons, and Ky's was because she was attempting (failing completely, might it be added) in telling the one she liked that she liked him - Michael. She had this unnecessary internal conflict with herself about the whole thing, she could barely even comprehend half the things she thought.

A sigh. This was the 6th draft she made in less than an hour. Usually it takes her a while to write, but with so many emotions it was simple to say them out into text. "Okay, I got this... Just say you like him and click send. It can't be that hard..." she said in a whisper to herself, but Ky could barely even hear her own words be spoken since her heart beat a melody of rage (since her cowardliness) and excitement (just from the mere thought of him) at the same exact time.

Michael, I like you, do you like me, too? Did I think wrong, or did I already know? Maybe I had hope...?

"I give up!" Kyla yelled angrily, throwing her phone across her room. Since there had been silence surrounding her she listened involuntarily as her phone collided against the wooden floor. She inhaled in irritation and stared at the lifeless ceiling above her.

Seconds later realization kicked in.

"My phone! Shit!" Kyla immediately stood on the ground and sprinted towards her phone. She forgot for those few moments in time about Michael. She only could process one thing; what if my phone is fucking broken?!

She was centimeters from her phone. It wasn't broken. An exhalation of relief. After letting her guard down she had then grabbed her phone off the ground and clicked the "Send" button, but Kyla had yet to realize that.

...Minutes were passing, time had been elapsing, and there Kyla had been - panicking, worried, nervous because she knew now that she had sent the text. She heard the door from downstairs open. Then it shut. "Kyla, what was that text about!?" a male voice shouted from downstairs - Kyla's dad.

"I didn't send it to Michael ... I sent it to him... Fuck," Kyla cussed under her breath. "It was - uh - I didn't mean to send it anyways!"

That didn't even help. Time for the lecture...