interlude 1
sun drenched and dripping with the lust that is solely found in the american high school, stiff from a summer of bad decisions- you see us filing back in, our minds still a little drunk from the night by the lake
and
you’re still able to taste the way that golden brown feels on your tongue
 you don’t want to forget the blurred things, the pieces that aren’t vast or especially important but make up the times that are immortalized in your mind as the summer when everything changed and compose your own coming of age story
 so this is how it felt like, this is what it’s like to be uncut and still in the rough before shaping. this is what it felt like to be happy and scared, stupid and brilliant, invincible and weak
but we can’t be woken up for school anymore, and this isn’t elementary school. we don’t have read aloud and there is no recess in physics
 now it seems everybody is looking back, trying to quantify the qualitative time that we have together before our real lives are supposed to begin.
and now, everybody’s favorite word is nostalgia.
