Mosquitodance felt as though she foul explode. Emotions and dreams, fear and joy, twisted in her heart, which beat against her rib cage like a wild animal. She didn’t know how exactly she felt, but through the tangled knot that was her thought and feeling, she could deduce one thing. /he’s to good for me/ She knew it was the truth. He was patient, kind, always putting up with her teasing, her mood swings, her fear and her snapping. And always, he came back. When she felt like she was at a low, he was there, comforting her, helping her, knowing exactly what she needed. When she was at a high, he was always by her side, laughing with her. Why was he so insufferably sweet? She adjusted the flower crown on her ear. ‘It makes you look even more beautiful.’ Why? Why did she have to like him, knowing she would never be good enough for him? She would try her best. It was a decision made with firey resolve. She would try to be better, for him. She could never be good enough, but she could try.
