slow it down, you have a tendency to rush back into your past.
I miss that boy James that I met in Kennesaw that was tripping on acid and sat with me in a tree house in the woods and listened to the night sounds and looked at the stars and I miss how when I went inside I found him playing piano and it was so pretty that it broke my heart a little bit. I miss that girl that tried to teach me to play drums but ended up kissing me instead the girl that took her first hit of a cherry clove cigarette and said it made her head spin. I miss that bitch that fucked my boyfriend even though I had thought we were best friends I miss dancing to the Backstreet Boys with her and carrying her piggyback style over puddles so her mukluks wouldn't get wet. I miss that boy that read my journal and smelled like vanilla coconut and wore my hair clip and cuddled me when I needed love the most because I was so broken. I miss I miss I miss. I think too much about the past.