Sticky Floors

Childhood dreams of summer, it’s the 2008-2009 time I always revisit when I get nostalgic. With Kings of Leon and Caleb’s raspy voice, and The Killers and their impatience blasted all over my soul, it was an unpredictable summer of emotion, devoid of fear, and full of expectation.

To be so young, when the internet is still in its early stages, when we were using instant messengers only when we were at home, to send our friends songs that we liked, between that awkward stage of MySpace and everything else instant, all I can think of is summer.

I can taste the dust in my city, and I can ignore my growth as a person, just for one summer. I’ll go to work, and maybe ignore my tasks, and plan a trip to the beach with my friends. And then go out for drinks and walk, and I’ll have still that silly MP3 player, and listen to music that makes me hope, but never makes me stand still.

I remember rain from ages ago, how tasted like, and how it melted my soul, I felt alone, and brave, and curious at once. Meeting on rooftops with my friends, dissecting books, and music, and taking pictures, and nothing felt out of reach.

Some of the most bizarre experiences, and yet some of the most heartwarming ones happened in that era. After the violence of leaving the nest, after the shock of not fitting in, and suddenly finding a tribe welcoming for me.

With sticky floors, hopeful eyes, and scared souls, I have embraced the dawn. And here I still am, 15 years later, still dreaming of the person I eventually become.

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