Like no one is listening.

The soil has dried up. The life it's been holding is failing. One by one the leaves fall off.

 Next the branches dry up until they can no longer bend with the wind. When the storm comes it cracks. Splits. Opens its insides to show you that it has been rotting for years. But amidst the forest this tree was only but one. You're only but one. You can scream to the person beside you but they won't listen until you're dying, rotting on the inside. So cover your flaws and fill the holes in which the termites may escape because you're only as valuable as your exterior allows for. 

Present emails from a past ghost.

"If they ever decide to make a teenage coming of age film about us, it will definitely have a great soundtrack."




Some people like the opening lines the best, but I'll forever be a sucker for the closers.