communication
with her i could believe sex between teenagers is something other than illegal and disgusting, some kind of desperate attempt to scramble up the ladder into a world none of them seems to understand is nothing to want to aspire to more quickly than one must. growing up is not what you think it is, sweet babies, so please stay down there in your beautiful spun-sugar fantasy worlds until the last crystal melts on your tongue.
but reading her journal, looking through her eyes at something so beautiful and rushed that it made my toes curl in my argyle socks, i could believe that it's something i should want, something that should not terrify and nauseate me.
i don't know what to believe and i'm jealous.
i still wonder what it would be like to have opened my eyes this morning not to the blue and green of my pillow but the rough and awkward flushed cream and contour of Andrew's face.
but reading her journal, looking through her eyes at something so beautiful and rushed that it made my toes curl in my argyle socks, i could believe that it's something i should want, something that should not terrify and nauseate me.
i don't know what to believe and i'm jealous.
i still wonder what it would be like to have opened my eyes this morning not to the blue and green of my pillow but the rough and awkward flushed cream and contour of Andrew's face.