And when you need me, I can’t be there. As much as I desperately want to go straight to your side and let you cry and sob and stain my shirt with your acidic tears, I can’t.
I can’t even text you and ask what’s wrong.
Because my damn texting app broke.
And my dad isn’t going to get me real texting any time soon, it’s pathetic, almost.

So it must wait until tomorrow. I hope you’re ok.