we were only fifteen, thinking we were eighteen.
one minute they were telling us to "enjoy your youth while it lasts." now its: "what do you want to do with your life" we no longer cared about boyfriends, girlfriends, relationships. they themselves were so
middle school now its stolen kisses between classes. akward fumblings in the back of your old chevy pick up.
and my hearts racing. and my palms are sweating. and ive got that tingly feeling in the back of my brain, but this is where we are. this is what we are. and theres no use trying to explain it to anyone, because to them its just puppy love. "you'll get over it". but its not, and we wont. were hot, were cold, and no way in hell are we mistaking any of this for love.
its comfort, its safety, its feeling. feeling anything at all. because somedays you go home and you don't feel anything. anything at all. its dips in the pool. its guarded glances, and a stone heart. its knowing your going to get hurt, knowing that its wrong, and knowing that theres no way you can stop it. no way you'd want to stop. its him, its her, its you, its them.
and your wishing for summer, wishing for freedom, wishing for him. him him him. always him. off and on, but always back to him. its back and forth, left and right. and honestly your tired of writing for him. tired of crying for him. tired of almost, just barely maybe possibly loving him.
but most of all its being tired of trying. its settling. its giving in to the fact that theres nothing more the two of you can do. nothing left to give.
its loving. living. losing. and getting back up again and again and again.