I like to think that all my choice have already been made for me. Like somewhere out in the future, there is a version of myself who has already made the decision, a future me who looks back on this choice as a memory; like the past.

I sit in a classroom full of students, but I barely notice the lives surrounding me. Nervousness sets my every nerve on end, indecision courses through my mind; making me fidget and squirm in my desk. I drag a shaky hand through my hair as the bell rings, and the room breaks into motion. Classmates rush passed me and cram their way through the door, books clash to the floor, and conversation erupts in the hallway. I slowly come to my feet, and quietly weave my way through the halls; heading towards the place I promised to meet him.

This part of the school is deserted at this hour, but will be buzzing with life after the last bell rings. I walk in and ease the door shut behind me; shutting out the world and its endless chaos. Deep breath…hold it…hold it…and sigh. I step away from the door and creep my way further into the room.




There he is...lounging on the corner couch, with a worn paperback in his hands. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his green eyes intrigued. He is still—like a statue. Then he shifts slightly in his seat; dark hair falling across his forehead. I wish so badly to brush it back, because now those daring eyes are hidden. This blocks his view of the book he is immersed in. Irritated, he runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back, and his eyes glance up. Noticing me for the first time, a gentle smile lights his face.

“Hey…” his voice is quiet, as he sets the novel aside. “ I guess you always keep your promises, huh?” I stay silent, afraid of the words I have to say. But he’s right, I always keep my promises. At my silence, he frowns (a look I never like to see on his face). “You’ve made a choice.” He says. Not a question. One last deep breath, then I just say it, even though every part of me screams not to.
“I love you, but…”