Dear Savannah,
A year ago everything about you was so new, so overwhelming. I was in awe of your beauty. And despite how much I hate to break your heart dear one, you were not the only thing exciting me.
I walked on River Street at night with every bone in my body aching to slow dance on the cobblestones. I acted interested in learning your history, when really all I cared about was walking as close as possible to this boy, this boy I felt myself falling in love with. I felt so alive that all I wanted to do was cannonball in your harbor. For the first time in a long time, I felt like a naive girl, and I found myself absolutely smitten. In fact, smitten may be an understatement.
This was last February-- a little less than 365 days ago. Saying it in terms of days puts it in a whole new perspective. I will say that after our weekend with you, my feelings for this boy remained much the same. You showed me how similar we were and how being with him made me the happiest girl on earth. You brought me light.
But this year you felt different. You were familiar in the sense that I knew you, so I felt comfortable with you. But I didn’t feel my insides squirm—and sometimes I desire that nervous feeling—that rollercoaster thrill that makes you know something is really great. This year I found myself less concerned about me, you, and our future together. Instead, I lived in every moment and left in a different sense of euphoria. I spent more time singing karaoke and learning about you, and I think I laughed more than I ever have in one weekend. I was happy being happy, and I got to happy for me, not somebody else. And yes, the desire to cannonball was still present. Unfortunately, I was told if I did it, I would probably die.
I don’t think it’s just you. I think I must have created too big of an idea of you in my mind and I regret to say that maybe I lived a little blindly. I think a few weeks ago I finally woke up from the dream I’ve been dreaming and realized that sometimes life truly does have other plans for us. So, I thank you Savannah. I thank you for the past year and what you showed me. I thank you for the supreme happiness you brought me and I thank you even more for opening my eyes to something entirely different this time around.
love,
A year ago everything about you was so new, so overwhelming. I was in awe of your beauty. And despite how much I hate to break your heart dear one, you were not the only thing exciting me.
I walked on River Street at night with every bone in my body aching to slow dance on the cobblestones. I acted interested in learning your history, when really all I cared about was walking as close as possible to this boy, this boy I felt myself falling in love with. I felt so alive that all I wanted to do was cannonball in your harbor. For the first time in a long time, I felt like a naive girl, and I found myself absolutely smitten. In fact, smitten may be an understatement.
This was last February-- a little less than 365 days ago. Saying it in terms of days puts it in a whole new perspective. I will say that after our weekend with you, my feelings for this boy remained much the same. You showed me how similar we were and how being with him made me the happiest girl on earth. You brought me light.
But this year you felt different. You were familiar in the sense that I knew you, so I felt comfortable with you. But I didn’t feel my insides squirm—and sometimes I desire that nervous feeling—that rollercoaster thrill that makes you know something is really great. This year I found myself less concerned about me, you, and our future together. Instead, I lived in every moment and left in a different sense of euphoria. I spent more time singing karaoke and learning about you, and I think I laughed more than I ever have in one weekend. I was happy being happy, and I got to happy for me, not somebody else. And yes, the desire to cannonball was still present. Unfortunately, I was told if I did it, I would probably die.
I don’t think it’s just you. I think I must have created too big of an idea of you in my mind and I regret to say that maybe I lived a little blindly. I think a few weeks ago I finally woke up from the dream I’ve been dreaming and realized that sometimes life truly does have other plans for us. So, I thank you Savannah. I thank you for the past year and what you showed me. I thank you for the supreme happiness you brought me and I thank you even more for opening my eyes to something entirely different this time around.
love,
Christina
love.
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