I loved him from the age of sixteen. Hated him from the age of eighteen. He disappeared at the age of nineteen. We started off as enemies, then fast became lovers. But our story isn’t a happily ever after. It was a story of a king and a peasant. Can you guess which I was? I knew we weren’t meant to be. You see, he fell in love with her first. He loved me last. I'm not someone's second choice. Not even for the boy who stole my heart. I'm someone's first. Now, I just have to remember that.

He was a drug I couldn’t kick. I’d overdosed on him before. It didn’t turn out well. I was stupid enough to let him crack my heart, in hopes we would fall off the same cliff together. No matter how much my idiotic heart wanted to love him, my head knew better. He didn’t choose me. He chose her. That’s where the problem started. Maybe that’s how it should end.