Dear junior-year Charlene, you can’t write yourself out of your past
Content warning: The following article includes topics some readers may find triggering, including sexual assault.
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Content warning: The following article includes topics some readers may find triggering, including sexual assault.
On a particularly lonely day, I am in a coffee shop, grief-stricken over the death of an imagined romance.
Here is a point of view:
My first kiss happened in a stuffy, poky bedroom. The room was dark, not unlike a cave. I was on a spring break trip with my new boyfriend at the time, and we shared the same bed in our rental home. The bed, quite dusty, occupied almost the entire length of the bedroom. Beside it was a single-hung window with horrible soundproofing. Throughout the night, I could hear cars zooming past or honking their horns. Not the most romantic setting.