I remember when we first met. I was thinking to myself about how you seemed serene and genuine.

You were telling me about the shirt that you were wearing and about how you only wore it to pair it with your jacket. The pace of your voice quickened as you were ecstatically speaking.

As we indulged more into conversation, you then began talking about something that I have no recollection of whatsoever.

I do remember that in that moment, I realized that you were trying to make me laugh and I was thinking about how you would most likely not mean as much to me within twenty minutes as you did in that moment.

I then heard you laugh. This dude's laugh is so beautiful. Jesus. It's beautiful.

After a while, we both split. Well, nearly. You told me that you wanted me to come with you. You gestured your head over to the direction of a few people.

I declined but told you that we could talk for a while if that was fine.

Five minutes turned into twenty minutes which turned into an hour.

I've always been into raw conversations. In the sense that it was far more interesting than everyday questions. Rarely liked and common flawed people have always been beautiful to me.

Beauty has never been one set thing. It's always been an idealistic construct.

As our conversation turned into merely that and questions being exchanged back and forth, I remember happening to ask you if you could tell me about someone that you hate. You then began talking to me about yourself.

Looking back, I wonder as to why you held so much passion in your words for any and everything besides yourself. I realized that often times passion is even within hate because not only is passion a driving force but it's the power of an authentic emotion.
Holding immense hate for yourself although you've never stood for the things that you've stated that you hate.

I mean, we're sixteen. We're still kids, right?

You're spitting about Father problems and I'm spilling my heart out about how the thoughts in my brain telling me that I cannot eat constantly roam around and have been for about four years.

Maybe we are still kids within our emotions. Only awaiting will tell when our "second selves" grow up.