i'm turning to my future now, and you don't get to follow me there. i no longer wonder how you're spending these summer nights, approximately 26.8 miles away from where i lay in bed. tonight, the scars will start to fade and my lips won't part at the memory of kissing you. it took two years to get here, my journal pages filled with pieces of exhilaration and transgression. i can no longer question what i was to you, and how you viewed me inside that tired mind. because maybe i was a mess of a girl holding onto the first boy i'd ever loved. maybe the bitter things weren't loud enough in our heads to stop what we'd begun before it stretched out too far. but the journey had me seeing despair and i couldn't let you go without hearing you say "i love you too" to me inside of my car. but that was the last time i ever saw you. you will never touch or talk to me again. and the cracks lining my heart have started to feel less tender and more cherished.