Remember when we were thirteen and afraid, spending days curious of the way our minds ticked, nervous kissing in movie theatres and early curfews before the danger in darkness had yet to swallow us raw, safe but not safe enough?
But we had secrets, dirty and clouded, details we wouldn't dare speak out loud, scribbling forbidden situations and feelings in notebooks, hiding them under the bed like two cardboard covers could protect the weight of our painful honesty and our lies.
We moved through the motions, teetering on the edge of growth, watching the people around us crumble from a fear we could not protect them from, our breath held for weeks until one day, the air cleared and our confessions felt foolish, not heavy.
-Anonymous
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