Your only imperfection is him who told you to change.

The home I grew up in was once of subtle yellows and green- moms favorite colors. When dad came home yelling that September night the walls caved in. Our home was broken but not literally so.
Mom and dad would scream while brother and I sat cold, we waited till he was done and we knew mom would be up soon. My bedroom was my safe haven, I had it as my own. Fairy lights dancing along my walls, darkness still crept in. The home I grew up in wasn't charming as it looked from beyond, it was crumbling, held up by Mother and warm tea.

The only thing that woke me up this morning was the meow of my kitten who wanted to be let in. He wanted to enter my safe space where my feelings and thoughts were pinned to my stark walls. I wanted my walls to be white. Like a blank canvas. I wanted a reason to wake up in the morning. I wanted to paint my thoughts each day. My bed felt like quicksand. I was being forced to stay beneath my sheets by an imaginary pull that I felt was so real. From my bedroom window, I can see the sunset reminding me of nights in our hammock ******* to our favorite tree. The tree drooped in an odd but beautiful way, and it was fascinating. I can also see the sunrise that on early Sunday mornings motivated me to roll out of bed, that was many times ago. The only reason I get out of bed some mornings is that I have high hopes that one day we’ll meet again at the farmers market just down the street. You'll bump into me and realize what we once had was special. You'll realize our love was as sweet as an August peach.

I went home that day, and I wrote about the boy in the green hoodie. I thought a lot about him, but I couldn't wrap my mind around what exactly it was that I liked about him. It could have been the way he danced at midnight in my mind. Dancing around the moon painting pictures of my thoughts. It could have been the way he made me feel when I had no feelings at all. No emotions to untangle, none at all. I think it was the thought of the memories we would create, the ones I could go home to tell mother about. The thing is though I never figured it out. I never knew of any other boys like the one in the green hoodie but, I never once believed it is true that I’d find someone new that was just like you.