I've always been a hopeless romantic. As a girl, I would read anything fictional with a title and more than 25 pages. It was just a habit. My life was simple. I had busy, but loving parents, and my parents had a brother when I was 6 (at my request).
I have an incredibly wild imagination. Give me a scenario, and I will come up with cults, a dearly beloved who passed away, and, of course, my favorite, romance.
When I was 6, I moved to a place I'd never even heard of, called Seattle. I stayed for a year, then moved to a small rural town nearby. I didn't know anyone and was nervous to start school, as I was not a social person.
Grade school was an absolute disaster. Everyone had already known each other, and I'd made friends, but not real friends. They would leave me at the drop of a hat to go hang out with their friends from the year before, and on top of everything, there was a bully. Her name is confidential, but she would kick me under the seats during class, bad-mouth my little 4 year old brother, and even when I got a guidance counselor to help, she wouldn't stop. Life was miserable, and I didn't know what to do.
But all that changed when he moved next door. Smart, funny, and, well, cute, we started a beautiful friendship that I still miss today. I still regret everything that happened, and I wish things could've been different. But I'm putting pen to paper about my experiences so you know what really happened. Well, here goes nothing.
