And you’ll tell her. How you miss her and how much you regret all the shitty things you did. And how you wish you could have made different decisions.
Allow yourself to feel again, even if it takes everything you’ve got. Don’t let yourself think that it will be like the last time. Because this person is different.
The first time you see me, I won’t be a delicate flower wilting away. I will be magnificent. A flower in bloom. I will be golden.
I’m talking about that cute boy who is a couple of years older than you.