I’m 21, and I have a crush on my friend, but I don’t yet have the language to call it a crush even though I do know what a crush looks and feels like, but it’s different if it’s a girl - then it’s just an intense friendship, right? Our friendship is, indeed, intense. She drives us just fine, slows down, takes care. She says I’ve never seen rain fall sideways like this before, and I say that’s not rain, and I describe what a “wintry mix” is, and I ask if we should pull over, if we should switch drivers, because I’ve driven in snow in Michigan, in Virginia, in Vermont, in Colorado. I’m 27, and my girlfriend has only seen snow a few times in her life, and we’re driving cross-country, a little dog in the backseat and the trunk full of everything we think we need for five months of life together. Sometimes those lives touch, but most of the time, I am desperate to keep them separate, to leave myself cleaved. I’m 20, and I live two lives: one on Tumblr and one in an ugly brown house in Ann Arbor that I’ll revisit over and over in future dreams.
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