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Every scar paved the path to painful memories she never thought she’d be leading him down at 3 am. Every secret she hesitated to tell the other boys slid off her tongue like the tears down her cheeks that were present around no one else. The only part of her he wanted to see was her soul. The only thing he wanted to remove was the lingering negativity, not her clothes. He’s the only one who would hold her and patiently listen to her when she was at her lowest, yet no one understands why she can’t quite function right when he’s not there, no one understands why for months he was the only one she could hold a conversation with. And most importantly, no one understood her blood-stained wrists after he left. They couldn't comprehend her point of no return in those 5 months. They didn't get her joy when he finally came back. Their annoyed faces are worth every second she gets to talk about him, it’s all worth it for the sleepy Saturday mornings of waking up to him. It’s all worth it to know at the end of the day there is someone who loves you so much. Every bump is worth the feeling of being so incredibly close to another human being.