perpetual happenings, like rain sliding down my window and discarded filth on city streets, is what i often akin us to. our daring hands and youthful eyes got too caught up in the carefree dosages of first love. perhaps our parents taught us otherwise, but to this day i cannot remember. because when you entered my life like a revelation, it split into two parts. the before, without you. and the after, all you. the saddest thing being, i no longer know the girl who never worried about seeing ghosts after people left.