Her math notebook holds more calculations about how no one could ever love a soul that is as damaged as hers, than it does algebra. Add self-hate, trust issues, and a rough past and it would equal her.

Her chemistry notebook has scribbled notes about how she doesn’t believe matter cannot be created or destroyed. Whoever said that obviously doesn’t know what it feels like to have their heart ripped out of their chest and then stomped to pieces at their feet.

Her english notebook has poems about happiness she’ll never have and love notes to boys she’s never met.

Her history notebook has dates of when the wars in her heart started and how she lost all of them. She has timelines of all the lives she’s lived. She’s written the day you left one hundred times, because if there was ever a test about her life that’d be question one. And if you ever look closely in the very back you can see in very faint, tiny letters, the date she hopes to feel alive again.

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