What I remember

I remember you. I remember seeing you at the party. I remember thinking to myself how you stood out without standing out. You were different. I knew it then. I know it now.

As with now, back then you always wanted to know me. You didn't care about anything else. You just wanted to know me. You cared about what I thought. You cared about what I said. You cared.

It was funny because whenever I was with you it seemed so different. It was as if I stepped into a whole new reality. Everything around me went blank. For those few stolen moments I could really be me.

One word comes to mind. Soft. Your touch. The things you said. Soft. It made me feel like I was home. It gave me a comfort that I couldn't find in a place that was so foreign to me. Being different wasn't always good. Being with you was.

I may not have said it back then but I loved the time we had together. It was a nice break from being the me that everyone else expected. Now that we've grown up I find myself wanting to tell you that I love the time we have together.