I’m not a child anymore. I’m not going to reach for you in the middle of a silly breakdown. I’m not going to call out your name on times my blanket has been taken away from me and I’m not going to laugh insanely when you tickle me so I’d stop crying.
There are times I wish that were still the case but I’ve grown up and so did you and the circle of people watching us from the sidelines. Days of catching fireflies and marveling at fireworks and stealing candies - they were replaced with catching those who fell for us and marveling at mind games and stealing fervent hopes. I still have dreams where we lived in our naivety and just… lived.
I’m trying to remember my childhood and you occupied such a huge compartment in my brain that I settled for remembering other people’s stories.
Because it’s not going to be enough anymore, your arms comforting me on days when I think I’m losing you. You see, I already did.
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