I was a rather rebellious kid stuck in a town I hated, surrounded by preppies, and no gun to shoot them with. She was a preppy. Go figure. I wrote her off as another trust-fund kid at first, because her click or whatever was all kids who I could tell wore masks. They laughed the same fake laugh, wore the same overly-expensive clothes, and eyed everything with either anger or jealousy. When I saw her, I thought she was the same. I was wrong. She wasn't after the same things in life. When everyone else was snotty, she was nice. She would talk to the outcasts like they were people.
But I could never get myself together. She was pretty, popular, and I was shy. Looking back, it was all over nothing, I should've just gotten it over with, but I was scared. In the end, I let her go. I regret that. But I won't mourn this temporary setback too much; after all, life ain't over until you're dead.