Time flies when you're having fun (or, you know, working a part-time job and sleeping too much while also somehow being exhausted all of the time).
Summer is bittersweet. I want last summer back, when we were all blind with optimism and naivety and thought that if we just put enough effort in, there was no way we would lose each other. I miss driving around at three in the morning, my fingers on the window edge as the stars passed us by. I want to go back to the nights that turned into mornings, sneaking back inside at 5 in the morning to see my mother getting ready for work and wondering why, oh why, I was up so late.
Life, though, is good. It's just a different type of good, a more mature type of contentment. I've been spending my days working at Old Navy or working on my newest novel at coffee shops. I went out last night and got ice cream with friends, and it felt familiar. It was reminiscent of last summer, back before any of us had any responsibilities. I'm an adult now who spends too much money on clothes and has to fill her tank once a week because she gets lost too damn often.
I've been spending time with a nice boy who says the right things and makes me laugh. Life is simple, and I'm not putting any faith in ordinary things. I've been to the library a few times and have poured my spare time into realistic fiction, breathing life from these fake romances that would never come to life in the real world.
I'm happy in a way that I haven't been for a while. I'm content, at ease with where I am and where I'm going. It doesn't mean I don't miss the way things used to be, though.
