When you're fifteen, a year is an eternity. And when you're fifteen you think about everything that happened when you weren't and how you handled it all. When you're fifteen it's time to forgive yourself for the things that happened when you weren't fifteen. When you weren't fifteen, you had a best friend. You were their Wonderwall. They're one. The one person. Ever. That knew them. When you weren't fifteen, you had a best friend. A best friend that you were in love with that had lots of other best friends that they were in love with. And you didn't care. And they took advantage of that. When you weren't fifteen, you had a best friend. A best friend who loved you for being weird. Who called himself Batman. Who got mad at you a lot. And you loved him. And when you weren't fifteen, you lost them all. One you ran away from. One you got tired of. And one you still don't even know. Then with the first one things got better. Again. At last. And the second. The second is hopeless. Because even though you've forgiven yourself, they have yet to forgive you. The third. Always comes back around. But not this time. And you wish it could all be different with the third. But the third's always been a little stubborn.
Wind doesn't stay.
It's simple.
And awful.
And true.
When it doesn't seem right, The Wind leaves. Hesitation depends on how strong of a bond there is with the Wind and the subject being fled from.
That's how it works.
Simple. Awful. True.
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