Warning- This page contains unwarrentedly sad material
I remember when I did things besides spanish homework, when I went to bed before 11, when I felt well-rested and alive during the day. I remember when I used to drive a car and have firm definitions of home and school. I remember laughing with my family, talking with my mom, watching America’s next top model with my little sister. I remember when my sister was little. I remember when school wasn’t a means to an end. I remember my psuedo-little brother’s smile, how his eyes crinkled up. I remember not worrying about a relationship with a boy, because I had many with many people. I remember going dancing and not having to look for a partner. I remember itchy swing chairs and staring up at the sky with my other half (or maybe that’s the other way around). I remember not avoiding the voices of my greatest advisors for fear of despair. I remember when shutlow’s pictures made me smile, not cry, with happiness. I remember walks in the woods, with you (yes you) by my side. I remember talking not to make relationships but to build upon them. I remember thinking I could write this without tears. I remember not having to think about every action, every word, every thought. I remember getting up without fear that I would have somehow changed by the time I went to bed. I remember laughing with you and saying shoo, instead of assailing your ears with wails and silly words like shit. I remember people remembering me, understanding me, understanding that I just wanted to be what they wanted me to be, and that that was okay. I remember when six weeks was far too long for a friend to be gone. I remember when I didn’t feel like I had to remember you, only know you, be with you, love you. I remember when things were what ifs instead of what ares.
I remember you.
With love in the cornfields, for the first time in a month.
