February 2012
I hate myself - darren’s roof
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I wish I had some photos from that time we hung out at the beach. you met my mom, and her awful ex-boyfriend who we made fun of so much, and I met your parents. we were almost afraid to look at each other so our hands never found themselves holding on sand or rocks or in elevators. but you would come to hold something much bigger than even a smitten hand at fifteen, something that would mean so...
