You know what you have to do.

Do you really have to? Is this just a selfish want? Roy loves you.

So does Jim. Well, he said he did. Then he up and left. Would he have said those things, would he have kissed you and asked again if he hadn't meant it? How could it possibly benefit him to throw you that curveball, and have it hit the zone for a strike?

You've been around Roy far too long if you just used that analogy.

You know what you have to do. There's no thinking twice about this. Just do it.

You call your mother ahead of time. She knows before you even say hello. She's happy for you. She was happy before, but it means more now. She knows you'll be happier.

You're not so sure. At least with Roy it was safe. It was a sure thing that you'd always have someone there; it wouldn't matter if he ran around on you, or if he didn't let you go to New York. You'd have someone there. Someone to shoot down your hopes and dreams. Someone to boss you around and tell you everything you worked so hard for will, for absolute certain, get you nowere.

Don't even think about "with Jim." There won't be a "with Jim." If you stop now to think about why, there'll be no leaving.

Throw a few things into the bag. Leave the pictures. Leave the teapot. Leave the iPod. Half your sweaters. Leave the memories.

You hope.

Before you know it, you're gone. You're in your old room, just the way you left it. Roy's calling and asking when you'll be done with your silly little game because he's hungry, damn it.

You just want to know when it will stop. Your heart won't stop breaking.

Roy has no faith in you, or your ability, or your decision.

Jim, pretty obviously, didn't either. Didn't. He's not coming back. You blew it.

You haven't cried into your pillow since you were sixteen, but it seems like there will never be a better time to start again.