7, 8, 9

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Text #7. 

January 6, 8:37 pm.

I told mom I was going to sleep early. We fought again and she said I was a disappointment. I couldn't agree more with her. The impact of seeing you today hit me. Hard. All we shared was stolen glances and skipped heartbeats. So now I'm here, laying down on my bed, waiting to fall asleep before I fall apart.

Text #8.

January 7, 7:35 am.

Right now, I can say I look just as tired as I feel. I have bags under my eyes and my hair looks like a small mammal crept into it, made a nest, had babies and died. I look horrible. And the possibilities of Sophie killing me if I show up like this to school are major. I guess there are just some things that make up can't hide.

Text #9.

January 8, 5:12 pm.

I just realized something. I'm horrible at expressing my feelings. I do the best I can and still, it's hard for me. I feel like my mind is going to blow up anytime soon. I miss you, Ty. </3

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