"whenever I try to write a good story, I always just mess up or give up or throw it away. I never liked writing. I never really liked anything. even as a little kid, I wasn't too ambitious. I am just a fucked up skater kid. I never really succeeded in life. now is my chance, I guess. I want to measure to Edwin's level of greatness, but more so I want to pull him down to mine. I want to get him hooked on heroin for gods sake, whatever will make me better than him. the thing about Edwin, he isn't ever satisfied. he always seems depressed or emotional, or emotionally detached all together. he never smiles. when he was gone one day, I searched his room. he had a drawer full of broken pencils and pencil sharpeners. the drawer below it held an assortment of things I had never seen Edwin take out. a rope, a empty match box, and a blade from a pencil sharpener. in the drawer below that, was a vile with a dark liquid labeled 'sadness' and pair of tweezers. I couldn't stop thinking about it. these drawers hid in his closet and I had only found out about them a few months before I opened them.
sadness.
was it blood?
it couldn't be.
but it might be. "
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Teen FictionEdwin and Kyle are two extremely different people: the only thing they share is a single mother, struggling to provide for their families. Edwin is sophisticated and gentle, with the kindest smile and a love of learning. Kyle is ignored and rejected...
