"When we were younger."
That particular phrase has its own damaging and soul-shattering ring to it. I find it sometimes eating my soul, stealing bits of me through every open orifice that I expose, foolishly and wholeheartedly, to you, and you only.
Because we all have to grow up. From fourteen to twenty, and seventeen to twenty-three, we've all had to grow up. Tall enough to touch the trees, and tall enough so we can scamper upwards and forget about the rest of the world's natural disasters. Because that's all you and I could ever be, is anything as shattering as an earthquake. You and I moved mountains with our ways.
And somehow, growing up means also never growing apart. Even though distance will run its inevitable course of injecting doubt and fear into our veins, anybody will always be nothing but a phone call away.
Everytime I sit down to write this story, I think to myself that I remember absolutely every single little detail as clear as crystal - as though these events truly happened yesterday. Perhaps because I cling to them so desperately, exercising my memory to its fullest extent. I worship my memories.
I keep them in my head, the only place I've known where to store and stash them away for so long. It's time. It's past time.
The world needs to know that beauty exists in the subtlest of ways.
"Personal Sex Surveys - make we ask you some 'personal' questions?"