I am scared of things.

Not the monsters under my bed or the skeletons in my closet.

We've already become good friends.

I'm scared for what happens after high school.

I want to act. But am I good enough?

Q says I am. Q wants to act too. He's good enough.

I'm scared for what happens to Q after high school.

She needs him, but she's dragging him behind and he can't see that.

All he sees is her need for him.

I'm scared that he leaves and then doesn't come back, and then what do I do?

He leaves and I have to stay for two more frickin years and then when I try to catch up, he's already gone.

I'm scared that Q might leave her behind, and she will take the razor for good.

She needs him. I need him. He needs time, but he doesn't have it.

I'm scared of sadness, but sadness is my life, and hers, and Q's.

He said he wanted to change me like Sky changed him, but he can't because of her.

So I try to change him and make him see that all she can do is hold him back from living his dreams but at the same time I don't want him to leave her because

I'm scared she might take the razor for good.

My dream:

We walk through Manhattan together, 

singing about how cold it is outside,

or practicing lines while eating shitty pizza, 

like he said he knew I would.

But Q, what about you?

My "dream" wouldn't be complete without him.

He is the only person I have ever met in my life,

not even my own mother

who can carry the silent tune of understanding.

He understands me. He listens to me when he doesn't understand.

He sings to me when he can tell I need to be cheered up.

And he has a lovely voice

and I want to hear it every day.

And I'm scared that I won't after next year.

Or that I will and she won't because she took the frickin razor to her neck!

Oh, Q, help me.

Help me to help her to help you to help her,

and I'm literally just blabbing now,

spilling on a piece of paper that's not paper,

it's a screen.

Telling people everything,

people who I don't even know,

but It feels so good to get it out,

and I probably won't ever post this,

but maybe I will because none of you know me.

Oh, Q.