Sixteen Year Old Me

Sixteen year old me is still in there somewhere. I know because I feel it. Sixteen year old me can still feel the butterflies in my stomach when he held my hand. She can remember how it felt to be wrapped in his arms. She remembers how hearing him say, “I love you,” would make her heart jump. She remembers the silly fights and the resulting silly break ups that would last a day, and she remembers the last time we got back together when he said, Continue reading “Sixteen Year Old Me”