Scientists say, the chemical composition of tears, differ from one emotion to the next. I sometimes wonder, if we could see, under a microscope, all the tears we've shed throughout our lives….what story would they tell?

SPRING 2011 – STANFORD

After leaving L.A, I was feeling a bit of an upswing in my mood. I couldn't even place my finger on why, But I felt refreshed, and ready to take on the world. Teagan, wasn't as confident about the newfound, pep in my step . She was concerned that my boost in positivity, was just a boost of serotonin, leftover from ringing in the New year in Bo's bed.

She may have been at least half right. Because after a week or so passed, my heart started aching a little more, and darker thoughts started seeping into the newly renovated happy place of my mind. Those thoughts centered around Ava. I couldn't stop thinking about what Bethany said in Bo's kitchen on New Year's Eve. He didn't normally give her attention, at least most of the time. I couldn't stop imagining what occurred in the off times. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that he didn't mind, nearly ripping into me in front of her, on New Year's, before we made it into his room. But, my mind counter argued. If it wasn't her, than who would it, inevitably be.

As Springtime rolled into Stanford, I took up an unlikely hobby, in the effort to replenish the same chemicals, Bo managed to saturate my mind with, in one night. That hobby? -Jogging. I HATED jogging. I detested every agonizing stitch in my side, burning muscles, mild heart attacks, accompanied with asthmatic wheezing. It was the worst. But, the running path at Kite Hill, was hugged between a large sweeping meadow and tree lined hilltops, and it made the suffering, at least kind of worth it.

One evening as I huffed my way down the path, I noticed the late evening sun was particularly beautiful, as it washed over the hills, and warmed my skin in the lingering winter chill. As I rounded the next to last large curve in the path, I heard the sound of someone jogging behind me, picking up their pace.

"What are we running from?" He said, coming into view beside me.

"What?" I glanced at him and back to path in front of me. I recognized him. He was a pre-med student at Stanford and a frequent jogger at Kite Hill.

"I'm only running because I saw you running. Just trying to find out what we're up against," he grinned.

I laughed and came to a stop. Leaning forward, to catch my breath. He stopped, as well, annoyingly showing no signs of distress. "Well, even if we were running from something, you'd be the sole survivor," I said standing up straight. "You look like you work out plenty."

I didn't know the guy, but I was embarrassed to admit that I recognized him for the same reason most would. He was an exceptionally gorgeous human. Tall, lean and sculpted, sharp blue eyes and light brown hair, tousled, and styled. He looked less like a pre-med student and more like a model, who should be standing, waist deep in the ocean for a cologne ad.

"Oh this?" He gestured towards his body. "Pure genetics. All bark, no bite," he mused.

"Oh yeah?" I huffed a laugh.

"No," he shook his head, rubbing the back of his hair. "I side hustle as a fitness coach. I live in the gym."

I gulp down some water. "When do you find time to study?"

"Multi-tasking. Turns out, I can write a full dissertation while shaming a man into a set of abs."

"Wow," I nodded. "That's impressive," I turned, picking up on my jog, he followed. "And I'm sure you've got a big ego to go along with those genetics."

"Oh yeah, for sure," he said, without skipping a beat. "But, me and my big ego, were wondering if we could take you out on a date." I came to a full stop, again, and looked at him, perplexed as he skidded to a stop. "Maybe tonight?" He flashed a brilliant smile.

I laughed under my breath, looking around in slight confusion. "Based on what exactly? You don't even know me. I don't even know your name."

"Ian," he said reaching his hand out. I looked down at his hand and back up to him. He lowered it, with a smile. "I know that your name is Sidney. And It's based solely on my shallow observation. I saw you a while back, in the halls at Stanford. I've seen a lot of beautiful girls, but—you made me look twice." I dropped my head, smiling. I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks. "So, I'll pick you up at 8?"

I looked back up at his confident, crooked grin, stunning face, half masked in the golden light of the setting sun. "Sure."

As planned, he did pick me up that night. We went to dinner and then got drinks at a popular bar close to the college. He was charming, of course. But behind the big ego was a surprisingly sweet and gentle natured guy. We went out on a 2nd date, and then a 3rd, and then, it became the new normal. It felt nice, and it quieted the sadness, a little. From time to time I got a standard text from Bo, asking how I was doing. I always managed to give him a rundown without mentioning Ian. I wasn't sure which of us, that was for.

One night, Ian came over. Teagan was staying the night with Michael, who she was now in a full blown relationship with, and her absence around the house had become a regular occurrence. Ian and I decided to make homemade pasta for dinner. Which, I had never done.

"Careful, careful," Ian laughed. His body pressed into me as he stood behind me at the kitchen counter. "Just spin slowly," he said, his arms extended around me, as he guided the strips of pasta.

"Omigod! Look, it actually looks like a food!" I squealed. I turned towards him. "We made pasta." I said, looking up to him.

He gazed down at me, "You're now qualified to be a chef." He smiled. He reached around tugging lightly at my ponytail, which he often did, and then he kissed me, which he also often did. But this time, the kiss grew heated. Our lightly, flour dusted hands began to travel, and soon, our clothes were coming off. We hadn't gotten that far yet, and he was unfamiliar territory. But it didn't slow me down. When both of us were down to almost nothing, he sat me on the counter and I ignored the sadness, peering at me from around the dark corners of my mind, feeling his mouth traveling across the top of my shoulder.

Then I heard a knock at the door. We both stopped, silently looking at each other, wondering if we both heard it. Then another knock sounded through the silence. I jumped off the counter and slipped on my shorts and cut off sweatshirt, leaving Ian behind, hobbling around to get his pants on. I quickly crossed the living room and opened the door.

There was Bo. All six and a half feet, in a black sweater and jeans. A smile spreading on his face when our eyes met.

"Bo, omigod –Hi!" I said, smiling. I was in a weird state of shock, between excitement and confusion.

"Hey Sid. Um -I'm sorry for dropping by like this. But -I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," He chewed nervously on his bottom lip.

I opened my mouth to speak.

"Who is it, Sidney?" I heard Ian say, approaching behind me.

Bo's eyes looked past me, landing on Ian.

"Holy shit! You're that guy…" a shirtless Ian marveled, leaning over my shoulder. " That comedian, You do those hilarious joke songs."

I watched Bo's expression, turn to stone, and panic began to stir inside of me.

"Yeah, joke songs. That's a –thing I do," Bo said, flatly. His eyes turned back to me, filled with a mixture of hurt and panic. "Um –I'm -I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come," He turned quickly, walking to the stairs leading off the porch.

"Bo, stop," I said, following him.

He turned quickly. "Sid, seriously, it's no big deal. I was just –in Fresno and thought I'd come by." I could tell that every word he was saying was a lie.

I glanced behind me, noticing Ian had gone back into the house. "What were you wanting to talk to me about?"

"Nothing Sid, It was nothing. I don't even remember, really."

"You're lying, Bo."

"It doesn't matter, Sid. Jesus, just let me go. I'm sorry I interrupted your night," he said gesturing towards the door.

I sighed, walking down the steps. Hugging him around his chest. His arms circled around me and I realized he was shaking from head to toe.

"Are you okay?" I asked, looking up at him.

He huffed a laugh, under his breath. "I'll survive, Sid," he tried to grin. I could tell it was just for my sake. "I'll catch up with you later, alright?"

I nodded, as he pulled away from me, heading to his car, parked on the street. I knew he hadn't been in Fresno. He had driven here from L.A.

I walked, somberly back into the house, shutting the door. Ian looked up at me from the couch, where he sat watching TV.

"Ex-boyfriend?"

I shrugged. "How'd you guess?" My voice strained through the knot in my throat.

He smiled, lightly. "From the way he looked at me. But mostly because of how he was looking at you."

I dropped my head, nodding.

I heard Ian get up and walk towards me. He slid his arms around my shoulders and rested his chin on the top of my head. "I get it. It's complicated."

"Yeah, it is." I whispered, into his chest.

"Are you still in love with him?"

"I don't know."

I heard him sigh. "Okay," He leaned back to get a look at my face. "It's okay."

Any guy in the world should've ran. But Ian didn't. He stuck by me, and his gentle approach as the days went by was something that, to this day, I'll be truly thankful for. Especially because I didn't deserve it.

L.A 2020 GUEST HOUSE

I lay here, watching the morning sun, slowly filter through the blinds. Bo, tucked close behind me, quietly running his fingers across the hair behind my ears. Everything is so peaceful. Quiet. Calm.

But it's a startling contrast to the war going on inside of my head. I have to leave, I think to myself. I need to get out of his bed, and go. He has no idea what he is to me. He couldn't possibly know, how tragically in-love with him, that I am. I'm not able to grow up. Not this time. So, before I make a fool out of myself. Just walk away. Rip it off quickly. Rip it up. Break it. Because he's not playing for keeps. You know what this is, now. GET. UP.

"Bo, I have to go," I say, slipping out of the bed.

"What? Sidney?" I hear him say after me.

I cross the floor to my luggage, sitting in a nearby chair and sift through it, trying to find something to lounge around the airport in, until midnight, when I'll be clear to fly. Bo appears at my side, looking shaken as he towers over me, in his white t-shirt, black gym shorts, his hair tossed carelessly around is face.

"What are doing, Sidney? You can't fly until tomorrow."

I keep my eyes focused down at the clothes, as I continue to dig. "I have to get home. I need to talk to Chris."

He reaches out, snatching my luggage off the chair, sending it sliding across the floor. "Why? Are you running TO him? Or FROM me?"

I look up at him as he desperately tries to look angry, but all that's coming through is hurt.

"Both, I guess." I answer quickly, knowing the only way he'll let me leave today, is if he hates me. "Look, Elle's gone. We both know I'm just here, filling in the space. You've had your fun. Now I need to get home." I walk towards my bag and clothes, scattered across the floor. But he grabs my arm, swinging me back around to face him.

"FUCK YOU for saying that to me!" His pained expression is heavy on my heart. He grabs my shoulders, shaking me, "Fuck you, Sidney! –You know WHY she's gone? It's because YOU have me so FUCKED UP, I don't know how to give her what she needs! I don't know how to be ANYTHING, for ANYONE!" He lets go of my shoulders and takes a step back, raking his fingers through his hair, speaking weakly, "And my heart is so goddamn tired of trying." He sits down on the end of the bed, looking up at me. "I'm so fucking tired-," his expression draws up, and he drops his face into his hands. Sobbing.

My heart shatters into fine dust. I slowly walk over and kneel down on the floor in front of him.

"Bo, please look at me," I say softly. After another minute, he begins to calm and he pulls his hands down his face, dropping them into his lap. I look up at his sweet, watery eyes. "I'm so sorry I said that. I didn't really mean it. I think… -I think I'm just scared. I don't know what I'm doing."

"I don't either, Sid." he says, his voice deep and scratchy. I raise up on my knees, reaching out, sweeping his hair back and I kiss him.

"I only have until tomorrow, Bo," I say, on the surface of his lips. He reaches under my arms and pulls me into him.

"Then stay until tomorrow," he whispers.

FALL 2011 – STANFORD HOUSE

Ian, was on his second week of a work- study trip in Michigan and I had a rare moment, free of homework and studying. Teagan and I, decided to grab all the fluffiest pillows and blankets we had at our disposal and have a movie night.

I hadn't seen or heard from Bo, since that spring night he showed up at my door, seven months earlier. I had a hard time believing that we could possibly go that long without some form of communication. Not from my lack of trying. I sent him a few texts throughout that time, but they went un answered.

The credits to 'When Harry Met Sally" were rolling on the screen, when Teagan jumped up from under the blankets. "Okay, let's see, what's next?" She shuffled through the pile of DVD's stacked next to the couch. "Oh, how about Romeo + Juliet!"

"No." I answered quickly.

She shot me a questioning glance over her shoulder, but quickly gave up and proceeded to search further. She had grown used to me avoiding certain movies and music. We finally settled on 'Can't Hardly Wait."

But then, my cell phone rang, and I answered it.

And my life was changed forever, in a SINGLE. FUCKING. MOMENT.

My cell hit the floor, along with my body.

"Oh my, GOD! Sidney! What is it?" Teagan was next to me in an instant.

"My dad. He's dead."

DANVERS, MA

Grief, is an astounding mystery. In my 21 years of life, I had been picked on, many times, for crying about anything and everything. I once saw a 'Scrubbing Bubbles' commercial that made me weep. The little scrubbers were just having such a great time, swirling around some ladies bathroom sink. I don't know. Maybe I'm insane, but it got me in my feelings. But somehow, in the darkest hour of my life, my tears were nowhere to be found. I pulled myself from the floor of the living room. I packed my bags in silence. I got on a plane at dawn, and I watched the world move under me as I flew back home, to Danvers.

Because some kid wasn't watching the road, I would never see my father alive again. My home would never look, or sound the same. And my heart would never be as full, as it once was. Everything around me, seemed to move a little too quickly. Like a false sense of reality that I was watching through high definition. I watched my mother, nervously move through the house, crying, sometimes laughing, and sometimes she sat quietly numb, while random visitors would squeeze her shoulder and tell her that 'This too shall pass.'

Morgan and Aaron were in their own state of grief, busying themselves with helping mom make arrangements. I spent as much time as I could, going through the motions but after a while it became exhausting and I made my way to my room. It looked exactly the same. But somehow different. Smaller, maybe. I sat on my bed in silence for a while. Growing angrier and angrier at myself for not shedding a single tear. The absence of feeling anything, at all, was the worst thing, I had ever experienced.

Later in the evening when I finally forced myself to go back downstairs, I was met with the familiar faces of Bo's family. Patty wrapped me up in her arms, rubbing my back. She's like a second mother to me. Surely, I thought, that would invoke the tears I needed so badly. But that relief still didn't come.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she whispered to me, her head tucked over my shoulder. Samm and Pete, watched me with apologetic eyes, as they stood back. When she let me go, she followed my searching eyes. "He couldn't make it, honey," she said, answering my silent question. I nodded, and not too long afterwards, I made my way back to my room.

That night before the funeral, I woke up from a dream. In it, my father stood next to a tree, sitting alone in a vast, open field. He didn't say a word, he only smiled.

"Dad, I don't want to say goodbye," I said.

He tilted his head, his eyes adoring me. Then he patted his chest twice. Something he did his whole life. His way of saying, I love you, or, I'm so proud of you. Then I awoke to my dark room. No tears, just anger. I turned on my side and punched the pillow next to me until I broke a sweat, and then threw it to the floor before laying back and watching the ceiling until the morning light began to fill the space.

Eventually, I got up. I slipped on a black dress. I curled the ends of my hair and put on make-up. I decided to go heavy with it. If I was going to go to the funeral, and have to feel like a cold hearted bitch, I might as well look the part.

Once we got to the viewing, I hovered in the hallway outside of the room. My mom, sister and brother, all took turns, going to see dad. So after they were done, I felt like all eyes were on me. What would it look like I hadn't cried and then didn't even bother going to say my goodbyes? So, I concentrated on taking one step at a time, nearing towards him. Halfway there, I felt like my legs couldn't work anymore and I propped myself up on an empty chair nearby, hoping to god nobody was watching me look like a plastered fool, trying to walk home after a heavy night of drinking.

I felt a hand touch me on the small of my back. Bo was there, looking down at me, his brows drawn, in apologetic pity, his eyes, full of a million words. I hadn't seen him dressed like that since we were younger, going to church. But there he was, in a white button down, a fitted dark, gray suit, and a sky blue tie.

"I can't look at him, Bo."

"You don't have to," he said gently.

I looked towards my dad across the room, and back to Bo. "I feel like I should, I just feel like I can't."

"Let's walk together. You can look away and we'll just wait until you're ready. Okay?" He said it in such a soft way, it felt like a possibility. He wrapped his arm securely around the small of my back, and as we walked it literally felt like he was the only thing holding me up. I watched our feet as we made our way across the sage colored industrial carpet. Bo, came to a standstill and I quickly spun my head into his chest. His arm that wasn't holding me up, rested between my shoulder blades. And that's where I stood for a while. Breathing in his scent, and hiding from the world. I thought of the dream I had the night before and somewhere deep down I finally found the courage. So I slowly turned, and said goodbye to my father.

Once we returned from the funeral, I totally bypassed my house, where friends and family filtered in and headed to the pool house. I felt the cool, fall air, wash around my legs, the fabric of my dress brushing against my skin as I made my way across the yard. Before walking in I turned and spotted Bo, hands tucked in his suit pockets, slowly ambling in my direction. Once inside, I walked quietly around, running my fingers along every surface. When Bo made into the door, it was almost startling. The last time we were in here, together. He still seemed like a boy. But now, I see a fresh faced man, coolly leaning against the couch in a suit, gazing worriedly at me.

"Sidney, I am so, sincerely sorry about your dad. If there's anything I can do."

I turned and looked at him. "Please, don't do that. Please don't say that carbon copied, sympathy card shit. Please," I leaned against the counter and looked down at my shoes. "I don't mean to be rude, I'm sorry, I just can't take it anymore. Especially from you."

He turned, walking over to the couch. He sat down, propping his elbows on his knees and hung his head. "What do you need to hear then?"

"I need to hear where you've been for seven months," I said, walking over to stand in front of him. "I mean I get it, were not together but, you can't even answer a text?"

"Sid, I'm sorry," he said without looking up.

"What is it, then? Do you have a girlfriend now or something?"

"No. It's not anything like that."

"Is it because I have Ian?"

He was quiet for a few seconds. "I don't know."

I had a sudden realization, that even then, standing in front of him. I couldn't even feel the hurt or anger I knew was under the surface. I felt dead.

"Fine, you asked me if there was anything you could do. There is," I said. I got on my knees in front of him. He raised his head, searching my eyes. I reached up, loosening his tie. "No strings, Bo. I need this." He cupped his hand over my hand still on his tie.

"What are doing, Sid?" His eyes were heavy with concern.

"I haven't felt, a single fucking thing, for days. I need to feel something, Bo. I need to feel, -anything."

"Sidney," he tilted his head. Pity, written on his face.

"Fine!" I stood up and turned to leave. Suddenly he was behind me, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist.

"Stop it! Let me go! I don't need your fucking pity, Bo. I've had plenty of that shit." His arms didn't budge, no matter how much I struggled. I kicked my feet out, I clawed at his arms, I worked myself into a sweat and then… there they were. I let out a long, hollow sounding scream that terrified me. It didn't sound like me. I didn't even know in the moment, if it was really coming from me. But the gasping sobs that came behind it. I felt that.

"It's okay, Sid," he said, next to my ear.

"He's gone! He's gone, Bo!"

He turned me around and I buried my face into his chest. Screaming, and crying, and hurting. He pulled me down with him, sitting with his back against the couch. I laid there, I don't how long. Letting the tears flood. Letting it hurt. Because I knew at least right there, with him, I could survive it. The room grew darker, as the afternoon turned to late evening.

He looked down, at my swollen, red face and kissed me, lightly. Then once more on my forehead. "It's gonna hurt forever, Sidney. But your heart, -it'll grow around it with time."

I buried my face back into his chest, letting out a few more quiet whimpers, and I thought of the dream I had about dad. Like a tree, my heart will grow around it with time. I reached up, and patted my chest, twice.

L.A 2020 - GUESTHOUSE

I waited until tomorrow. And now tomorrow is today. I have my things packed and ready to go, except for the change of clothes I plan to wear to the airport.

Bo, since this morning, has flickered through a wide variety of behavior. First it was the peaceful, tender affection, under the covers of his bed. Then it was the distant, withheld quietness, while I packed. Then it was the nervous, somewhat manic, talk about anything and everything, to avoid the approaching reality. Then...back to distant and withheld.

"Alright, I'm going to go take a quick shower and I'll be back," I say to Bo, playing on the keyboard and adjusting the display screen, nearby. He nodded but didn't respond. Or even look in my direction. "Okay," I said slipping out the door. I crossed the yard, to the porch and into the house.

As I shower, I try to harness in the idea that I'll be getting on a plane within a few hours and leaving him behind. I think back, to yesterday, after the blow up that I caused, in trying to leave early, and the inconceivable love, he gave me afterwards. It's now, permanently etched into my heart, right next to his name, which he left, when he gave me my first kiss at 16. Never in my life, have I felt touched like that, looked at, or taken.

And suddenly, I realize, that maybe, he loves me, but he loves Elle more. OR, maybe, he's just been waiting for me to say it, just like I've been waiting for him to say it. That I love him. I'm desperately IN-love with him, and I'm willing to turn my back on people, good or evil, to be with him.

I mean, why ARE we fighting, so fucking hard to not want each other? Because we do, and it's torturing us, and others, to keep this up.

So, I'm going to tell him. When I get back inside. Let's just end the fight. Let's be together. Let's just be happy, because the only time we're not, Is when we're actively trying, not to be together. He can do his comedy art, I'll continue writing shows, movies, and novels. We can have it all, together. Nothing, except ourselves, are holding us back at this point.

And if he says, no? Well, at least I told him. I'll sleep, miserably for the rest of my life, but I'll sleep, none the less.

I step out of the shower, and change into my blue Jean shorts and loose, white, V-neck t-shirt. Leaving his Death Cab shirt on the bathroom floor.

As I make my way through the living room towards the back porch exit, I spot something on the bookshelf on the north wall. I walk over, studying the small, blue cube. My heart stops, and I turn cold. I'll surely die, right here in the floor. No coming back, this time. I open it, revealing the most beautiful, square cut -diamond, engagement ring.

That's it. He's done. He's folded. I'm going to lose him forever.

With trembling hands, I close it, placing it back on the bookshelf.

"Sidney - fucking - Paxton," I hear the familiar voice say behind me. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?" My entire being is ice and stone, as I turn to face Elle.