I sit in the cold swing. The rusty swing set creaks as I rock back and forth. The memories from so long ago came rushing back, but he doesn't. I was a girl hopelessly in love with a guy who never even loved me. All the times he whispered I love you, all the times he kissed me on the cheek when I was crying it was all fake.
"Stupid girl" my mom yelled "boys never fall in love with girls like you" she yelled. She was right. The fans were right. He would never love someone like me.
The swings are all rusted the monkey bars are all broken. The amazing memories we shared all those years ago. To him the memories are just a chapter in his life but to me those memories are a book.
And like every book things come to an end and your left with a sinking heart. I sigh and get up from the swing. I take one last look at my book and walk away from it.
I drive away from the frayed and tear stained pages of my book. I drive away from the ending of my book and just like a regular person I start a new book.
