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C. D.,
I met you this summer. One of those sweet connections that makes my tummy all bubbly with butterflies. You are so compete. Your since of self is pure, overflowing with joy. When you were introduced to me, I saw first your white beautiful smile, always quietly encouraging laughter. Infectious delight that made me feel wrapped up in you like the softest blanket.
Throughout that week I saw you everyday around the festival. We stayed out late into the night playing music and dancing around the bonfire. In the mornings we gave one another knowing glances at the tired manner that we acted with, but every night we found ourselves up late, watching, learning, listening. Magic was in the air at this gathering of souls, and we were not exempt.
Now, it has been one month since, and I have come to realize that there is no hope for a love that could have been. The truth of it is the social unacceptability of the situation. I am 17. I never asked how old you where, though I know you how old I am, but I think I knew all along that you were too old. For some a gap of 8-10 years isn't so bad, and maybe 5 years from now it wont be, but for me to love you now is frowned on to say the least. I don't know what to do except move on, let you go, though you were never mine to hold.
I think I could have let you be the first man I ever fell in love with, but alas. I will still think about what could have been, and when I see you around the neighborhood I will surely forget myself, lost again in your smile. But I will take heart in believing you could have loved meas well, because I like any other am worthy of love. I wish I could tell you every emotion you inspired in the short week I spent with you, but i hear that much would push any reasonable man away. So, I drift. Onward.
Thinking of what might have been,
In another life.
L
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