The Wrong Kind of Love IIIMiranda was prone to tears. This was a fact that Holly had accepted long ago about her best friend, perhaps even admired her ability to be so open about her emotions. She cried during movies at the theater, she cried in the middle of mall food courts, she cried in Holly's arms. It had been that way ever since they were small, and yet lately ever time a tear glistened in that beautiful girl's eyes Holly felt her heart bleed. She wanted so badly to kiss her and make her better, making it all the more difficult to simply pat her head and tell her it would be alright. She was getting weary of this role she played and the boundaries it set for her. They were graduating this year, and the future that hovered over them was weakening her resolve."I worked so hard to get in there!" she shouted, the sound muffled by Holly's jeans. The pair of friends were on the couch in Miranda's semi-finished basement, a rejection letter torn into a million pieces around them. "I really thought I had a shot."
Carpe DiemKeep them guessing, what gender you arewhat lies under those baggy shirts. [Look at them, over there. What are they, and why do I care?] Keep them wonderingwhat your tastes really are. [Lip gloss and candy floss, steam and sweat so lean, or perhaps someone in between?] Keep being beautiful,keep being you; [Because you're going to have my support the whole way through.]