Reaching High

"Sometimes...we hang onto things that hurt us." Sam commented, thinking of the messages from his parents he kept, the family portrait above his fireplace. They made his chest ache but he had to keep them because it was him. Of course, he didn't know the irony of this thought, that only weeks before he'd felt unable to hold onto pain never mind the growth that could come from it. His hand was taken and he pressed his lips together, finding himself suddenly wanting to cry; something about the innocence and tenderness of the touch after the heat of the kisses. "Thank you." He finally whispered, glad to think of the words of his mistake being eradicted. "I understand. Things are too much for me a lot too..." If there was something Sam could understand, it was being overwhelmed. "I'll look for books for you in that time too." With this said he took his hand from Remi's and turned to look at the ladder. "Well. I have work to do now that I can reach the books. Thank you...I'll...see you later." Samuel At seventeen, I started to starve myself I thought that love was a kind of emptiness And at least I understood then the hunger I felt And I didn't have to call it loneliness