Summer reminds me of the cool evenings during high school when we ran around free, drinking mountain dews at bonfires, driving late into the country. Little work, lots of play, a dash of drama, and so much expendable income we didn't know what to do with it. Friends were all around you and I'd always push my curfew to the limit. I cried a lot too, good cries, about boys and my family - unrequited love or the fight my mom and I just had about something hard. I'd collapse into a ball on my floor and weep until I was tired and happy once more. Like an intense storm that rushes through, exciting and terrible, but leaving the most lovely smell when its gone. It wasn't all good, it was rather confusing actually, but there was something in those summers that brought life. Tonight I found my tears again, they came and I was glad for them. Oh I was so tired of hiding them, of being patient, of rationalizing them back down my throat- I just wanted to cry even though I knew I shouldn't - some lifeless voice inside told me to use my head not my heart, that my tears were selfish, my feelings were selfish. So I ignored that voice and did it anyways, letting them speak what I will not say.
So I was thinking, who in the world would want to hear about this? Its a little intimate for something so many can read - but to tell you the truth, I'd rather tell you the truth. I'd rather reflect a bit of those sunset summers than wake up and go to bed everyday without offering a piece of my heart.