wishful thinking [gracie abrams]

[06: PULL ME CLOSER]

06: pull me closer

HIGHSCHOOL.

CALIFORNIA, 2018

3 DAYS BEFORE GRADUATION

isabella stood looking up at the window just above her, eyes brimming with tears and so emotionally exhausted she was practically wearing her heart on her sleeve.

the slight wind that blew through her hair brushed the tears out of her eyes - mascara probably running down her cheeks.

she stood there in the short grass, on what was now 4 am on a dark tuesday night.

the only source of light available were the dim stars and the pale moonlight - casting a bright shadow across isabellas face.

she felt weak, as she recognized everything she tried so hard to let go of - to forget.

the rusted wheels of the two scooters that forever sat on the side of gracies house, untouched since the 9th grade and growing bleaker throughout the many changing seasons.

the tall oak tree that sat just beside the very window isabella found herself below, hers and gracies initials carved out on the wood.

it was almost as if it was home.

gracie was home.

though she would never admit, even if she wanted to.

she only stood there, silently crying underneath the night sky in an almost drunken state - without the alcohol.

hundreds of voices screaming at her - practically begging herself to come clean to her feelings.

but the voices couldn't and would never work, because as the lie "just friends" weighed on the tip of her tongue - they were already thought, heard, and said.

she wasnt just lying to others - but to herself, too.

she lied in every diary she herself knew no one else would even read - then staying up late reminiscing the truth in fear she might forget.

in fear she would forget about the words said, the jokes made, how gracies lips felt on hers.