memory lane

okay let me tell you a memory of mine that surfaced in my head this morning. I’ve been in love only once; I’ve never really had many chances to find love due to my mental illness, which had me secluded from life. I was on holiday in England and met this boy who was part of the family who hosted me and another girl, he was around one year older than me. I remember one day it was raining, I was feeling very bad due to my mood swings and my italian friend was trying to confort me and asked me what she could do to help me, I thought about it for a bit and then said: “let’s go out under the rain”, I remember she smiled and convinced me to bring the boy along. We walked for hours under the rain and talked about many different things, fed some swans and at one point I was getting in a bad mood again, so the boy whispered to my friend “I think she’s going down again”, and I said “no, I’m not” but actually I was on the verge of tears (mood swings will do that to you) so he cut an hydrangea from a bush and gave it to me with a smile. And I remember I was in love in that moment, it was like a fairytale. Now it may seem stupid and childish, but I remember the magic of that moment so well.

I used to be someone lost, or perhaps more correctly, someone more lost than I am now. And that’s satisfying, the simple act of knowing that I’m better than who I was.
—  I remember. 🖤
In ten years, you won’t remember my name. I will be just a tiny puzzle of your youth, a forgotten piece, forgotten kiss, another forgotten snowflake that melted in your hands.
Sidewalk Down Memory Lane

Bike-riding
Leapfrogging
Hopscotching
Roller-skating
Chalk-drawing
Bubble-blowing
Marble-shooting
Sparkler-lighting
Patty-cake-making
Lemonade-standing
Watermelon-seed-spitting

The sidewalk between
My house and my best friend’s
Was where great fun happened
In summers of my childhood

Memory Lane

Part IV

Part I | Part II  | Part III

“Ace, you damn brat!”

Asce flinches on instinct at the voice, then realises it’s ringing a bell. He’s not sure why, no memories spring to mind. But the deep-rooted sensation of fear that insists he’s in danger must have been well conditioned into his subconscious for a reason. 

Then the fist descends upon his head and he realises why.

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