Journal entry from september 2018

Love. Summer love. Limited love. I always wanted to meet someone during summer. Someone that I could love. Someone who I would stop talking to, but still remember and love secretly. Maybe keeping a little stone or shell to place on my nightstand. This someone would have the smell of peaches and salted waves in my dreams, a sunny tanned skin and some beachy, messy hair. When anyone would be talking about swimming after lunch I would think of them during a little fraction of second, I would miss youth and parties, friendship and affection. Sometimes I would sit on my own, eating ice-cream, a breeze in my hair (announcing fall) and remember my very own self, crying on this bench exactly one, two, five, ten years ago, wishing I could just go back two days before. I would envy and be jealous of people sharing their life in the city. But isn't it just all platonic ?