Punk 57

by Penelope Douglas

I learned a long time ago that you don’t need to reveal everything inside of you to the people around you. They like to judge, and I’m happier when they don’t. Some things stay hidden.

Ryen. The beautiful, perfect girl who’s so different from all the others. I run my hand over my forehead and through my hair, my throat tightening into a knot and my eyes burning. Fuck. I put the pen to the paper and scrawl what my goddamn heart can only whisper. I miss you every day, I write. You’re my favorite place.

Making sure the girl who got out a few minutes ago is tucked back inside, down deep.

Eventually we all have to weigh what we want more: wanting back what we had or wanting what could be. To stay or to risk everything to move forward.

And I know right then and there I want to be the only girl he ever looks at like that.

Anything to not need you, Anything to not fall for you, Anything to look at a girl who’s not you, But baby, there’s nothing but you.

We kept writing because we needed each other, because we made the other one’s life better. But even after knowing her for years, it took no time for me to break what we had. We were perfect for each other. Until we met.

“We’re all ugly, Ryen. The only difference is, some hide it and some wear it.”

No one does you better than you. You can’t be replaced. Not everyone will see that, but only you need to.”

“Life is fifty wrong turns down a bumpy road. All you can hope is that you end up somewhere nice.”