Disclaimer: I do not own Disney, Hollywood Records, etc. :)

A/N: Hi. Read, please. Bye. ^^

Happy Late Valentine's Day.

Have you ever been so confused about your feelings towards somebody? Like, at times, they're the sweetest person you've ever met, but then the next moment, you just want to snap at them?

But yet, you can't help but wonder what it would be like to be with them.

My love life sucks. So Miley's shall suck too. :)

PS. Sorry if this doesn't really.. make sense.

Liberation

Summary: Because I need to be set free.

I have a little box at the back of my closet with things that he's left behind or given me.

I have a special story for each one; There's that little hand-made get-well card he made for me in fifth grade. There's that little photograph of us together, from Grade 8 grad. There's the wrapper for that first piece of gum he's ever chewed.

Yes, little weird tidbits of my life, here and there. Actually, more like his life. Not to sound like Chris Brown and Jordin Sparks, but it's hard to breathe with no air. He's my air. He just doesn't know it.

He doesn't know how sometimes I cry myself to sleep, and wake up with my fist in my mouth to suppress sobs.

He doesn't know how sometimes I play with my cellphone, keying in letters of love, pretending to send it to him.

He doesn't know just how much I fucking love him.

Nope, he's too busy with his perfect girlfriend, with their perfect relationship - Her with her perfect blonde hair - And he-- Oh God, he's too perfect. I get stomach aches looking at him, and I mean that in the most positive way possible.

Sometimes, my heart burns with the desire to just fall into his arms, to kiss him. Sometimes my heart burns with pain. Intense, white-hot pain, burning with a light brighter and hotter than a thousand suns. Sometimes, I gag, I feel my stomach contents rising in my throat, just seeing them together.

They murmur sweet nothings at each other, lips touching, hands brushing, smiles forming.

And me?

My lips feel numb, my hands shake, and my mouth quivers.

My face trembles with the effort to keep it straight, to keep it somewhat happy.

I don't want questions.

I'm sitting on the beach alone now. My thoughts buzz with what happened just 5 minutes ago.

"What's wrong with you?!" he snaps.

I shiver, partly from the spray of the light ocean breeze, but also because of the harshness, and coldness of his tone and words.

He softens, staring at me. He shrugs off his sweater, and before I can protest, it's draped around my shoulder, and I'm warm again.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" he says again, softer, gentler.

My hands twitch. I want to scream at him, grab his shirt, shake him. He doesn't see the emotional turmoil he's putting me through.

I settle for silence, and he gets angrier.

"Lilly and I want to know why you're avoiding us like the plague."

I cringe, biting my tongue. Her name is foreign to me.

"Miley?"

"..."

"GOD, Miley! Will you wake up from this depression you're in?! Stop being such a drama queen and tell us what's going on!"

The words leave my lips before I can catch myself and stop.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! YOU-- You-- YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! You never have," I trail off into a broken whisper.

I don't want to see his face, so I shut my eyes tightly, burying my face in my arms, all while inhaling his scent from his sweater. I hear shuffling, and I don't want to see whatever disgusted look he has in his eyes.

Minutes pass.

I look up.

He's gone.

I shuffle across my room, tumbling onto my bed.

I bury my face in my pillow, and instantly regret it.

It smells like him, and I know it'll take me forever to let go. I remember when he lay in bed with me, while I cried, cried over Jake, and he comforted me.

That's when I knew, I knew he was the one.

And since then, I've been trapped inside my little world of love, pining, crushing from afar. I loved being this safe.

Then, I found out, recently, playing it safe didn't get me anywhere.

I shrug off his sweater, tossing it into the box.

I feel cold and I know.

This is what it feels like to be alone.

And just like a fading rose, the petals slowly drifting, I toss the contents of the box into the trash.

One.

By.

One.

Because I need to be set free.

I stop, still clutching the sweater.

My lower lip trembles.

I put it on, zipping it up.

I inhale a little.

It smells like him.

I'm afraid to take it off.

I remember something my mother told me, something she told me on her death bed.

"Sometimes it's hard to let go."

Maybe.

Just maybe, I'll never be free.

Review, s'il vous plait. :D ( ugh my laptop can't do the accent thing like my old one could. bleh for new technology )

Sorry if this sucked. xD