i suck at summaries ( :
It wasn't a game, but a fantasy. My dreams exploding in my face. When I woke up with a sweat. There was no fun in that.
I never related to their songs, so how come I suddenly remember things that never happened to me?
Their songs were...Mind-blowing. He had a way with words, a way that makes you shutter at the thought of how...creative and disastrous he could be. At a moment, he is the one you want to hug, and at another, he is the one you are hiding from. Crying your heart out for him, is only a waste. This boy, he is not worth your time. He is nothing but the flower you saw, and thought, 'how lovely.' But never took the time, to take it home, and watch it decay.
While I write this, he probably is decaying right in that very spot, I left him. Why had I cared so much for him? He was nothing but a sad story. Nothing but a disaster just waiting to happen. So many problems, yet I cared so much. I missed him whenever I was away. And now...I see I am so much more...without him.
He was more than your average, 20 year old guy. He was the one you related to the most, though he never related to anyone. He was your first kiss, and your last. He was the gift your mom gave you for your birthday, that soon was thrown into the corner of your room, forgotten. He was the moment you felt so great, and he was the moment, where all that feeling, disappeared.
George Ryan Ross.
He was nothing more than a 20 year old, living life the hard way. The celebrity way...The broken hearted way.
And I, Emily Rosalie Cullen, was the one helping him, with everything he did wrong.
His so called 'boss' [?] was my half brother. You couldn't really say, he was his boss, but close.
My half brother; he was close to all his fans.
My half brother; he was a hero to almost all.
My half brother; had so many problems he didn't understand.
Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III.
He's the critic's best friend.
He is my pillow.
I couldn't live without him. He was the only one keeping me up, when Ryan would bring me down.
Though Peter and Ryan would get into many fights, I was the one that kept them from bashing each other to death. They knew, I was 'sensitive.' If I were to loose either of them, I would be gone, too.
And here: the story begins: