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The Boy with the Black Nail Polish

So I knew this boy once, he was a monolithic figure in my life. He made me question why I was the way I was. And everyday I’d look forward to seeing him. The image of him running, as his chocolate brown hair moved with the sway of the wind will always be stained into my memory. I spent so many moments just waiting for that one moment to arrive into my days however everything has an end. Good people will not always be loved and good people, or bad people, or anyone can save anyone. No one…we cannot save anyone. All we can do is make ourselves believe we made their life a bit better, but then are we being selfish? I feel that convincing ourselves we actually helped them actually loved them isn’t for their sake but for ours. Because if we were able to cause a bit of happiness and joy, and just a mere difference then there is the chance that we actually meant something. I knew this boy once and when he introduced himself to anyone he would always spell out his name to avoid any spelling errors. He would also gesticulate enormously when he spoke, and his dark black eyes seemed to hold mysteries that were too dark to unfold. Yet when he smiled you couldn’t help but smile in return, and his laugh was contagious, it spread throughout the room like the angry tides at sea. I knew this boy once and he didn’t like chocolate and I couldn’t believe that. Yet it didn’t matter that he didn’t fancy chocolate, or me, or read Harry Potter. I fell in love with the boy with the black nail polish. I fell in love when I knew it wasn’t safe, and when I knew I wouldn’t have anything in return. I found who I was, and then like that he was gone. I knew this boy once and yet I’m still trying to fall out of love with him…with the boy with the black nail polish.

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