My sister and I are so close that we finish each other’s sentences and often wonder who’s memories belong to whom.
Once upon a long ago time I was a girl with hopeful halos in my eyes—not unlike you—not a typical beauty but beautiful nonetheless, as all young girls tend to be in their prime, even if they don’t tend to know it.
All I cared about that summer were suntans, beaches, boys and booze.
Don’t worry if you fall, sweet girl. Youth is made for bruises.
Sometimes, I feel my breath coming in shorter, quicker, spastic bursts, feel my heart threaten to thunder through my ribs, feel sweat beading on my brow...and I know it’s time to bust out those “chocolate frogs” from Harry Potter.
Of course, I rationalize the fear. I realize it’s not real, that my house isn’t burning down, that the deer aren’t going to kill me.
Water. Like a blanket. Dark. Intoxicating. Cold.
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