The thought that haunts me the most is that may be, one day you will be the story that I will be telling my daughter. When she would be on her bed, without food and sleep for days because of her bleeding heart, when she would be looking for ways to kill herself, I will just walk up to her; I would just walk up to her and I fear I would have to tell her about you. I will probably tell her how you met someone when you were fourteen, how you both sat together in class and in no time fell...