You sat alone in your bedroom, the room hollow and still, a sharp contrast to the loud, joyful laughter of your relatives downstairs, seeping through your walls.

You should be happy that you’re growing up and reaching another milestone. At least, that’s what everyone keeps saying. But the thing is, growing up is overwhelming. The thought of the pressure and responsibilities that come with adulthood is enough to send you through every stage of insanity there is. And to make things even miserable, you’ve been yearning for your best friend, who clearly sees you as nothing more than that, especially since he likes someone else.

Yearning. A word that feels deeper than its definition. In your case, it’s that unbearable ache of wanting something — or someone — so intensely that it feels like your heart and mind might burst at the thought of not being able to reach it, even when it’s so close yet impossibly far. Like there’s an invisible, broken bridge keeping you from crossing to the other side to reach your goal.

You wanted nothing more than to risk it — to jump and get across that broken bridge, to reach Carlo. But you can’t. It’s ridiculous, and very dangerous.

You stared at the message he sent you, in the dark, your thumb hovering over the screen: “Sorry I left the party early. I promised Isabela I’d hang out with her after. Hope you have a good night, though. OH, AND OPEN MY PRESENT FIRST! NOT ROMEO’S!”