That was our seventeenth year old, stubborn, tenacious, and full of fearless heat. Until one day we grow into our best form. I remember the panic when I held hands for the first time, and the slight sweat on his palms; I remember the clumsiness when they kissed for the first time, and the slightly raised eyelashes on her eyes. I remember the boy in white, who smiled at me and walked away from me; I remember the girl in black dress, who waved to me and had narrow eyebrows. After years of separation, things have changed and people have changed.
My youth, your youth, why bother talking. Just to say, are you okay? My dear.