I know there's two sides to every story. I know my side. But sometimes... sometimes I wonder what his side of it was. I know how I felt. What I don't know is how he felt. I know how hurt and broken and sad and upset and angry I was at the end of it and after I (rather immaturely) ended it - our friendship. I remember how happy I was hanging out with him sometimes. But then I also remember how scared I was when he yelled or got mad at other people. I remember the look in his eyes when he was mad at someone else and was trying not to let it show, and I remember how much that look scared me inside. But I remember the happy times too, when I let myself. I don't know what he remembers of our friendship. Our... whatever it was. Whatever there was between us. I don't know if I every cross his mind. I don't know if he knows that I still freak out inside when I'm on that side of the river, how scared I am that I'll...