It makes sense that coming off a long term relationship a boy would have a certain level of confusion. I’m a fucking idiot. I wanted to believe that he was the one. I ignored the signs while his friends pleaded with me not to worry. I was so much more than her and they longed to see him attached and happy and full. He was never meant to be alone. But it was too soon. I was too much. I placed way too many expectations on the situation. I liked they way his dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes. I loved to press my nose against his smooth lean chest and feel the weight of his protruding clavicles. I was obsessed with the way he pronounced his words with a slight finishing school accent. I imagined him playing lacrosse. I was a cheerleader in a short white skirt and long blonde flowing hair. My cheeks looked like peaches and for one fleeting moment I was normal, with a house on the hill and a dad that was home before dusk. He smelled of fresh linen and expensive aftershave. He wore crisp white shirts on Sundays. I was so much more…
