To Hattie, with Love

Hattie is just a girl who lives. As boring as that sounds, it is the truth. Life is hard enough without believing in fateful changes, so when poetry with a distinctly mushy theme starts appearing in her locker, she's puzzled, bemused, but definitely not falling for it. She can count on one hand the people she actually talks to in a week; best friends, her brother, Adam Hartfeld.

~~~ ~~ ~~~

My brother threw my shoes down the toilet when I was seven. It ruined my life. Hey, I don't hate you, that's not why I mention it, I'm just saying; be prepared.
No one has talked to me since, given the obvious exception of the Hartfelds and Jake Stein, my only friends. But life seems hard enough without obessing over my dreamy Latin teacher and the random forged poetry appearing in my locker.
Okay, would someone like to own up to this?
I can probably count on one hand the people I talk to in a week.
Sometimes, it's nice just to stress out over the normal things, like Uni prospects and homework.
Not the psychotic notes that are starting to haunt me.

[Slow/very infrequent updates]