I need to have as much wild sex as possible so one day I can become an inappropriate old lady that blurts out things like “when I was your age I got a concussion after being bent over a desk” and then my family can be like “grandma please, you’re making easter dinner really uncomfortable” and it’ll be great
Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.
You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.
that one time a guy from my school was sent home for wearing a skirt and everyone wore skirts as a protest the following school day