Women.

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I’m writing about something that took place a couple of years ago. It wasn’t that long ago for me to forget everything completely, but it also wasn’t that recent for me to remember every detail. Suffice to say, it left a deep mark that I don’t suppose I will be forgetting it any time soon.

Lest I lead you on any further, know that some of the details here would have been supplied by my imagination already but only those, of course, which I cannot fully recall. But don’t worry for I will try to keep this account as close to what truly happened as possible. Though this happened quite a long time ago, I had only recently found the courage and the (excuse the term) balls to write about it because as I write this, I begin to realize that this might have been one of the pivotal moments in my life. But read on, reader.

I was on my way to school.

There were two girls sitting across me. They were obviously together, and by the looks of it, they’ve been together for quite some time. They were gorgeous, to say the least. They were really not the type you’d find taking public transportation at all, but they were and somewhat, I realized I was glad.

They both wore black, and they carried the punk rock vibe so well (with class and elegance, at that) I had almost converted right then and there. They looked so good, both together together and as themselves.

They were a terrifying sight to behold. 

At that moment, I found myself wishing desperately that I find a relationship like that. If not identical to it, then something along the lines of.

And that was why I found them so terrifying, so achingly beautiful.

It made my soul ache for something I never knew I wanted.

It made my heart yearn for a love so epic that it would dare defy the boundaries set by this malicious society.

It was an eye-opener for me.

And that was a day I could never, ever forget.

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