What is it about summer nights that make you long for previous ones. When it gets hot and quiet, i want nothing but to step into my 17 year old self in the summer. lonely, bored, and miserable. What do you call these fake memories? No matter how much I reason or remember, I can’t help but yearn and ache. But the past is no better. But Every year, these bitter memories turn to a sickly sweet. And I’m left with nothing but lies and regrets.

















