I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I keep wishing every night that you would know.
And I keep wishing that I could turn back time.
And I just keep wishing that this is all a nightmare.
But I know it's not.
It's my life.
And quite honestly.
I hate my life.
YOU ARE READING
dear ryan
Novela Juvenila collection of letters, poems, and rants, to the boy I love, the boy who broke my heart
