I have enough experience to understand that I don’t really understand anything. This makes a lot of moments tricky, like when we’re sitting in your bedroom leaning our heads against each other, and I still refuse to kiss you. You say, “Listen, I think you’re afraid that I will get attached.” And I don’t know what to do, because in a way you deserve a kiss more than anyone, so I hang on to these incredibly nonthreatening activities: staring at a broken lava lamp on your desk, whispering the lyrics to a familiar song - discovering that there are two distinct types of innocence, and that experience is the difficulty of getting from one to the other.
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