Tomorrow when I wake up and decide that I want to write about you, I won’t write about how you’re my favorite reason to lose sleep. No, I won’t even consider writing that I think about you, even when we’re talking and you’re just there, I think about you. Forget it.
What I will write instead is when I first learned to ride a bike and how it made me feel: scared, spontaneous, a little rebellious but wildly intoxicating. I will write about the first time I fell off my bike, and will tell you that my scars are testaments of that great Big Fall, and how it is all worth it; and how much I want to do everything again, even if it’s scary and especially because it’s spontaneous, a little rebellious and wildly intoxicating.