I wonder what the old me would say about who I am
I think she’d ask what happened to all those dreams
I wonder if she’d like this new world
I wonder if we’d be friends
She was so certain about so many things
All I have are questions
My heart is heavy thinking about how sad she’d be
Nothing is as she thought it’d be
I read this book when I was younger
They died at the end
I kept going back to read the end
I couldn’t believe it
It was so cruel yet it was a work of fiction
I kept thinking the writer could have chosen any ending they wanted
And they chose to kill them
It made me feel the kind of bad you can’t really describe
The old me remembers that feeling
She’d be sad to know I now feel like that on most nights
And it is not from reading sad books