Of All The Loves, I Loved ©

The story — in my words

I wrote this one while thinking back to that specific, heavy silence of a school hallway after everyone has gone home. There is a very particular kind of ache when you’re young and you feel like your world is ending because of a promise broken by a locker or a kiss shared with someone else under the gym lights. When we cut this, I wanted to capture that raw, innocent desperation—the way you stare at the ceiling or beg the angels just to make the phone ring. It’s a snapshot of that first real sting, back when love felt like a diary full of sad pages and you didn't yet know how to be anything other than a fool for someone who already let go.