wes. oh my god. i hate how much i loved him. the whole enemies-to-something-more tension was unfair. why do boys like him get to exist in books and not in my actual life? why do fictional banter and dumb car rides feel more real than actual conversations i’ve had?

okay. i’m back.
and first, liz’s obsession with happy endings feels too close. it’s ridiculous how much i wanted everything to play out exactly like a film. like…if life refuses to be perfect, then what’s the point of all these tropes teaching us to expect it?

said i finished better than the movies, right? i’ll brb.
we have stuff to unpack.

finished better than the movies last night.
i caught myself underlining whole pages like they were instructions.
boys showing up in the rain, confessions in parking lots, the kind of messy love that ends up right somehow.
sometimes i wish real life came with a soundtrack.

can’t even breathe.