I'm going insane all over again.
And I can't stand my heart in my throat or the fluid perched precariously on my eyelashes, daring me to blink.
It's that time of year when everything comes together, but it's not happening yet.
You're not happening yet.
At least, not to me.
And she's happening to someone else when a year ago she was happening to me, back when everything made sense.
Back when she made sense.

Spring is a time for rejuvenation.
But the only rejuvenation is to old memories, bringing them back to life with a ferocity equating my love for her (once upon a time).