people like to think they know each other; they pretend to get along and care

honestly, i think people are full of shit.

caleb's funeral was closed casket; they never found a body

the people at the funeral looked pathetic; they clung to each other and cried needlessly over a boy they only saw a fraction of while i stood silently in the back

memories of caleb haunt me

his hands are warm and scrape against my scalp, pulling seductively at the ringlets of my hair

its electric, a searing jolt of shock that devilishly tingles through my body as he pulls me closer

everything is utterly perfect

a blissful, ignorant kind of perfect that makes my ears buzz and head shake

he's a drug like no other

i want my fix but i guess my dealer is gone