Dark chocolate bittersweet

The greatest love story ever told, is your own.

I think it's pretty incredible to have someone write about you and to be able to read it. Your seeing yourself through someone else eyes. Ivanovich is a great writer. Today we had a sub so we didn't do aaaanything. It was lovely. Turns out our entire group of four has bonded over the simple four letters, L-O-V-E. Mari just confessed, or rather Emily figured her out. He's in our class he's mexican (Venezuelan) he's hot and this is wonderful. Emily has her own issues, according to her she's insecure and impatient. Ivanovich well I told you that one. Me, well Chris...yeah. I look forward to this class more and more everyday.

Do you ever feel really truly happy for someone else? Even though their happiness is related or is what makes you so irritated an unhappy? Well Isaac and Steph are going out!!!! Ohmygod. It was a chain reaction, Ari told Meredith who told me who told Michelle, who told Nick and everyone else (a lot of people already knew though...fb) but it felt so wonderful. I hope they get married.

I saw Jess today. We got out of the car simultaneously and headed towards the school. It was silent though the rush of people should have filled the gaping hole. I could hear our footsteps. Clear through the void of non noise. His a thumping steady rhythm reassuring a warmth to cling to. Mine a pitter patter of rain, childish high heeled shoes with pink bows as clumsy as I am. We didn't really look at each other today, as we passed by. Today we are strangers, yesterday lost lovers, tomorrow friends, and for eternity there for each other though we may not accept it yet.

The greatest love story...it is. We tell it after all. In all it's glory and wonder. Laden in gold and lace. It's the most epic of tales in our perspective. Since we are not the characters of our own stories. Instead the person we strive to be most, the one we imagine ourselves to be they are our main character and they will tell our love story to the end. Until we die, stop believing or come to terms with reality.

The color of the sky: A swirl of mist rises from the disjointed colossus of the sky. It reaches far out into the endless abyss of night on the disappearing horizon. Like an egg cracking open to unleash new life, from a lifeless grey mass to the pristine egg shell blue of a new day.

Dark chocolate 90%. Bitter sweet. It is like us at the last hour of the day. Our coffee shop of regulars and outlandish short stories. Of sticky notes and used up pens. Telling our stories that are as bitter as 90% but under the bitter sadness is the sweet flavor of love and chocolate.