Once upon a time, not terribly long ago, in a land not far away, I sat on a northbound train in the early morning. The lovely shiny sun was rising up over the eastward mountains, and all surrounding passengers were anywhere between 75-100% asleep, but I was 100% awake, because the thing I wanted to do rather than sleep was write down the list of all boys upon whom I’d ever crushed in my younger years. Needless or needful to say, it was a very fun brain exercise to do; it took much enjoyable mental dust bunny extermination to rediscover the memory lanes of my history, and thence travel upon each.
I had a particular profound reason for the reminiscing on the train, besides the mere desire to indulge in nostalgia. I compiled the list so I could look back on all the times it was okay that a crush’s head got chopped off by the guillotine of fate. In other words, every time I had to “let him go,” the sun rose again the next day, and I still had a pulse. I now know that every time a heartache may say “hola” in my future, I’ll certainly be briefly sad, but I’ll also be able to find strength in my past self. I’ll be able to remember that my past self had the power to conquer letdown time and time again, and I’ll know that I can conquer once more.
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