4th
When i was 15 and i imagined being 21, I couldn’t wait to be there.
Now im 21, remembering 17, and thats where it seems golden.
I have everything i wanted when i imagined being here. I just moved into my own place, with my boyfriend of almost 3 years (disregarding that time in between when we were not together.) a car, and a job.
But i had a dream last night, where i was in my friends old bedroom, the one on Chelsea st. Our clothes were soaking wet and we were taking our squeaky shoes off so we wouldn’t wake anyone up. Standing in the rain at a 711 trying to get someone to buy us alcohol. Smuggling a black plastic bag full of victory into her room. Shuffling through songs from The Postal Service and FATA at a low hum, socially analzying everybody and making realizations, having epiphanies about how we were different.
That, i miss.
what to do what to do what to do
