Coffee-stained teeth. Baggy eyes. Skinned seven-year-old knees. Sore muscles. A heavy heart. Stretch marks. Little ravines at the outer corners of your eyes. Laugh lines. A red wine splotch on the brand-new couch. Smeared lipstick. Stumbling into love. Getting dumped. Baby announcements from childhood pals. Calloused heels. Eye contact. Snort laughs. Bewilderment. Anger. Jealousy. Nostalgia. Disappointment. Dancing badly at weddings. Daydreaming. Making mistakes. A damn good cry. A vodka-drenched kitchen to clean after hosting your best friends the previous evening. Attending funerals of the people you’ll always love. Mascara marks you can’t get out of the pillowcase. Forgetting to check your phone. 3 AM makeouts. Regret. Bitterness. Sadness. Joy. Seeing your parents as the imperfect humans they are, and loving them more for it. Awkward silences. Giggling as you leave the hot server your number. Craving alone time. Disagreements. Sheer delight. Getting lost in a book. Losing your way on a road trip. Getting home later than you wanted to because you didn’t feel the time pass. Bygone conversations with Lyft drivers, grocery store clerks, the mail lady. Forgiveness. Letting go of the things that aren’t meant for you. Understanding you’ll never have all the answers, but continuing to ask the questions anyway.
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