"If you two want to bruise your hearts on one another, who am I to tell you that you can't?"
That's simultaneously one of the most elegant and true ways I've heard young love described. That's what I'm doing, I'm bruising my heart. But I don't care. It's the kind of bruise that feels good happening, and is only a problem later. It's only after the fact that it starts to hurt. I'll worry about it then.
I can't explain to her that this is the way I wanted it, that it's not about not wanting to commit. It's not about how much I'll hurt later. It was supposed to be about freedom, about not hurting him. He's good to me. I'm happy right now. Regardless, nobody ever has hurt me the way she does frequently, so what business does she have worrying about me? I'm happy right now, when I can forget how much it hurts to be home.
Music and dancing and bright stars I couldn't see and firelight and hiding out in a tent when it rains. I think I'm finally starting to build up some of those iconic memories that most people have of their high school years. I wish I had more, but I can't do anything about it. Now I'm making up for lost time.
Smile, sunshine,
Life is good.
Dream On
Daydream Believer
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