Uncertain as the Dawn

First

"First, let me tell you something, squirt."  She twirled her favorite pen around her hand with the appearance of someone extremely bored, like I should be grateful that she even deigned to speak and acknowledge my existence, but I knew she meant what she'd say next.
"When you grow up, never let go.  Never let them take you and make you into someone you're not.  Especially not him.  And don't give me that look, there will be a him.  There always is."

"But..."  It's hopeless.  There always is, after all.

"No buts.  The right one won't be a prince.  He'll be a knight.  Not someone who lets you do anything you want, not one who controls your every move, thought, and feeling.  He'll understand you, but also accept the parts of you he never will.  You won't find him in ninth grade.  You won't find him in twelfth.  Hell, if you ever find him before it's too late, that'll be a damn miracle.  True love doesn't exist.  Love isn't even real.  It's just an overused word people use when they want to pretend they have it all figured out.  Well they don't, no one does.  No one has figured it out, and no one will."

I knew I was pushing it, but I spoke.  "What are we supposed to do, then?  Just act like everything's all right?  Only to shatter when pressed too hard?"

She set down the pen.  "You catch on quick for a little squirt."

"That won't work.  You're wrong.  Love exists, and one day we'll 'figure it out'." I didn't want her to be right. She wasn't right. She couldn't be! Otherwise...
"Otherwise there's no point in life, or living, at all."

She let out a big huff of air, like Of course. I knew you wouldn't get it, you're too young. And I knew I'd blown it for this conversation. But then, as she opened the door to disappear into her room for the rest of the night, she paused and said something that made me wonder if I'd heard right.
Otherwise there's no point...
As she swung the door open with an attitude only a senior in high school could muster, she whispered one word.
...in life, or living, at all.
One word, strong enough to turn my blood to ice. The one word that changed everything.
"Exactly."

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I retreated to the only place I could go, my only escape from the confusing, heavy incident that had inexplicably just occurred. The garage, keeper of my only true possesion. I grabbed my bike and jumped on, not knowing when I would be back. Just as I pushed off into the dreary September afternoon, it started to drizzle. Not noticing the wet droplets splattering every part of me, I rode on.
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Forgotten, the blue, feathered fountain pen rolled off the uneven surface of the table, landing hard. If anyone had looked, and really looked, they would have seen the hairline cracks running along the body of the utensil. But no one looked, and no one saw.