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| - "Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don't there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little."
it was summer 2011, i had my arms around my first love... oh, and my girlfriend was there too.
blueberry and honey soft serve, in a cone, the only escape from the dulling grey of adulthood, the only escape from everything i had planned on avoiding and all that i ever wanted, which was really nothing at all.
standing in line at kem coba makes me feel like a kid, when i had no opinion about anything, no habits, and a cowlick in my full head of hair, when everything was soulful and an ice cream cone was enough for the whole day.
i still get the same excitement standing in line as i did when i was a kid, i still sit cross-legged with my ice cream cone in hand on a nearby patch of grass and watch life under the sun, and the corners of my mouth still expand exponentially each time the ice cream man/woman hands me my cone.
we broke up a month later, love's young dream melted faster than my ice cream that hot summer's day, but i'll always have my blueberry and honey cone.
(except in winter, they're closed for half of the year. damn)
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