It’s Funny How One Summer Can Change

I Spent A Lot Of Time Looking At That Picture. Wondering What I’d Think Of That Girl, If I Was Someone Else, Seeing How Easily She Sits In Her Boyfriend’s Lap, Laughing, With His Arms Around Her. I Would Have Thought Her Life Was Perfect, The Way I Once Thought Cass’s Was. It Was Too Easy, I Was Learning, To Just Assume Things.

But The Original Was There As Well—more Jaded And Rudimentary, Functional Rather Than Romantic. It Fit Not Just The Yellow House But Another Door, Deep Within My Own Heart. One That Had Been Locked So Tight For So Long That I Was Afraid To Even Try It For Fear Of What Might Be On The Other Side

At The Same Time, Though, I Was Beginning To Wonder If This Was Just How It Was Supposed To Be For Me, Like Perhaps I Wasn't Capable Of Having That Many People In My Life At Any One Time. My Mom Turned Up, Nate Walked Away, One Door Opening As Another Clicked Shut.

I Wondered Which Was Harder, In The End. The Act Of Telling, Or Who You Told It To. Or Maybe If, When You Finally Got It Out, The Story Was Really All That Mattered.

Their Words, Like The Music, Had The Potential To Be Endless.