I thought of the boy who has yet to be the best of himself. I thought of how the love I felt for him seemed like a crooked line, wanting to bend and curve into any shape possible. I thought of how his words enraptured me like a tornado with its never-ending cyclonic movement; a cycle of feeling the rush of breathlessness. I thought of how the boy has my heart and mind racing in a circle. I thought of how he was soon to grow into a hurricane, ready to captivate others beside me. I thought again of how he has yet to be the best of himself; give him a thousand rotations of the clock to grow. But I realized how much better I can be for him by then, when now he has already gotten the best of me.