13: The Fire Works

[ K A R A ] I spent the entire night reading and rereading Ryder's notes over and over again. His poems were honest and raw. He wrote so beautifully. I never would have imagined the same mouth that said all those dirty jokes could write such romantic things. And okay, I don't mean to sound narcissistic, but are these poems written about me? Am I… ‘K’? Not trying to get a big head or whatever, but my name started with a K. Also, a lot of the things he mentioned in his poems were like they were taken from our daily lives. I wanted to believe that theory, but I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Ryder had said it from day one, he didn’t believe in love and all that crap. This book and his personality was a total contradiction. Maybe he didn’t write this book? Or maybe he did? What is happening? * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * For the next few days, I hadn't seen Ryder at all around the house. Things ended somewhat awkwardly at our last e