I am worthy.
You promised to hold on. You promised not to leave me when I got afraid or acted out. You were good at this, the never leaving part. So instead, I acted. Instead, I ran.
Can we rewrite our history the second time around and release pain without restraint, become amnesiacs to the past, live in the dementia of our future?
Put on a song that changes your mood.
I couldn’t have asked for a better first love.