#like immediately in the morn when you’re sober and have sc’d this

[shijas]

dear fake diary, so today i had my first kiss. it kinda sucked. me of the past would be pretty upset — that i didn’t get my fairy tale dates, and this guy whose been pining after me — but me of the moment was happy. this guy told me that i was cute, this guy was too nervous to touch me, this guy bought me a drink and didn’t get mad when i spilled it and was flustered when i bought him one in return. maybe he was drunk, maybe he was wasted on something else, but we had the same favourite one piece character, and he had braces with bands that looked dark blue in the club’s led lights. his hair was curly and when he found out i could speak french because my parents did, he got so excited that he hugged me. i think he was cute. i don’t rmb if i told him. in the morning (or well the earlier morning) he may not like me. in the morning i will not like me, because i’ll be a little hungover from a two day bender and leftover chinese and coke with too much coconut rum. but the me at midnight kissed a guy before the dream ended, and his hands were soft and his lips was soft and his touch was soft, and before he did it, he looked me in the eye and he told me i was very cute. i told him no one had said that about me before, which absolves me of the guilt of killing my fanasty. i think it’s okay that i learn to kill fantasies. i think it would be healthier to kill the fantasy. life would be a whole lot more fun if i learnt to kill my fanastsies. this is it, thirteen year old me, this is what life is like three or more years after you thought you would be dead. you kissed a boy. you both tasted like the tequila your mother would be disappointed you downed straight. he found it impressive. you found it impressive. he’s from algeria, and he was flustered when your friend helped him grip your waist again, you have the same favourite one piece character, he lives(d) in the area of the train stop before the one for your uni and he does all the subjects your dream boy would do. his lips and hands were softer than yours. it’s halloween. you lived this far. you did it. (if you cry a little in the bathroom it doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re sad — your leftovers went cold as you were typing this; you can barely see through your eyelashes.)