Dear Diary —
It isn't black and white. I think that's what kills me. It's this story of he's golden, she's golden, and everything in between is magic. Even the moments I don't like, they're magic simply because they exist and I'm feeling something new. I'm happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. (Thanks Taylor Swift). And the moments I do like? I relive them in slow motion.
Why are conversations in the dark wildly exhilarating? Definite answers are nonexistent, yet I'm content. Tomorrow, we'll be dancing barefoot in the daylight. And I'm okay with that too. What is this?