Tonight is no different. I twist and turn in bed like every other night. The events of the day run a recap through my subconscious mind. Nothing special. I twist and turn as grief takes over. One quiet sob. And another. And another. Before I know it, my sister is awake, holding me tight, asking me what's wrong. She's 15. How is she supposed to understand the so-called problems of adulthood? What do I explain her? So she just holds me close while I cry the heck out of me. It's not the kind of crying that babies do. It's not the cry for milk or for a toy or for a video game, nor is it for a dress or a party. It's over a guy. A lost love. No, he wasn't my boyfriend and he never could be. There are more kinds of love that can blossom between a guy and a girl, than you think. This was one of those different kinds. Simply because we were different - together and individually. I don't know why I cry over him but I couldn'