matter

I think it’s just that feeling of waking up next to you and it would be safe to be there, bad breath and puffy eyes, but you would ask me how I slept and I would be okay even if I hadn’t slept at all.

Or the playfulness of an afternoon, like how there would be no expectations outside of what I had actually done. The celebrations of achievements, as if nothing really mattered and our truth was the truest truth.

Or how all my ideas were somehow great ideas, no matter how silly - and so the freedom to have more was unlimited. You’d encourage me no matter what I’d say, because you wanted to do anything too.

Everything was an adventure, not because we made it an adventure but because it just felt that way. Because there were no limits. Because anything could happen. Because everything that mattered was you and I.