I remember when things were so much simpler. We would speak on the phone for hours on end, discussing our days, our families, our ideals, our hopes and dreams. Despite our genders, there was no latent sexuality or hidden meaning to what we were saying. We could say what we wanted and expected the other to do the same. It was like having a therapist for a best friend when I needed both. She would read her poems to me as I would dream of her long blonde hair or she would call me from the bathtub and we'd count the freckles on her legs. It was the purest love I've ever felt. But at a time when our lives were at their quickest, it ended. She had lofty goals of popularity, and I was content to stay the way things were. I imagine she finally realized she was too good for me. But we grew up through each other and that's something I'll never forget.
Part of me will always wonder how she's doing. If she ever did achieve those fantastic dreams we discussed, if she would still marry me and live in a huge log cabin with our three kids. I wonder how and if she's changed, I wonder if life has jaded her incredible spirit, like it has mine. I wonder if she could help me get mine back.
I miss those times when things were simple.