disclaimer: it's not mine.
a/n: chapter two on the same day, because i'm cool like that.
You know, in eighth grade, Clarke accused me of being jealous of her. She was wrong, though. True, she's one of those girls. Unintentionally beautiful. Thoughtlessly kind. Loved. But I don't want that. I never have. I like my dramatic, ugly, cruel, hateful world. It's safer and easier. And besides, she can't be happy like that. She must wonder what it's like to not give a shit about other people. And that's the difference – I don't wonder what it's like to care about them. Because I already know, I've known since I was twelve years old, and I'm over it.