Love doesn’t make things nice. It makes things a mess. It doesn’t make things perfect. Stars are perfect, snowflakes are perfect. We are not. All we’re doing is ruining ourselves and breaking our hearts. We’re here to fall in love with the wrong people and crash and burn when it all breaks down and we wreck ourselves in the process.
I’m going to remember this night for a long time. The heady scent of beer and weed floating in the air. The laughs, cries and shouts from drunk, high teenagers. The delicious warmth from a huge bonfire at midnight, drunken slurs of happy birthday filling my ears as the next day rolls in. Sitting with people I hardly know while they tell bad-taste jokes and feeling like I’ve known them forever. Sitting with your warm weight leaning against me, our fingers laced loosely together. Coming back to the dying embers two hours later and standing with your arms around me, just enjoying being there with you and feeling the soft scratching of your stubble against my cheek and the soft movements of your hands down my sides and gently tracing the insides of my thighs. Most of all though, I’ll remember the feeling of freedom. Freedom and infinity.