tyler sat in the back of the library. sitting in a small beanbag, staring at the ceiling.
thoughts filled his head. he felt selfish and stupid for not speaking. of course, he would sometimes like to say things, but he was scared.
scared of being yelled at, or just anyone's reaction in general.
so that's why he wrote. he wrote down almost every though he had in a small journal he showed no one.
he'd like to keep it that way.
but oh, how we can't always have what we like, can we?
