It was a one-time thing, a passing moment, something someone might coin a fling, but I think we both knew it was so much more. I could define it as a mistake, but that would be a misunderstanding. That night, it was not the error in judgement, it was the days that followed after.

The next day the plane took off taking me back to a home that felt anything but. I still had water in my ears. As we landed, I had water falling from my eyes, too. There was this sadness that fell over me that I could not understand quite yet. It would take years for me to sort it all out, and admit, that I had broken my own heart, that I had no one else to blame.

You told me I would forget you, that I was just some twist in the story I was writing, and that you would not matter after the sun came up.

“I never said I was a writer.” I said, head fuzzy from the drinks and the steam from the jacuzzi we were wading our feet in.

“You didn’t have to.” you said just before pulling me into the water, and kissing me hard on the lips, just as hard as I kissed you the next day right before saying “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t you mean goodbye?” You said, Summer sadness set deep in your blue eyes.

I never meant it to be goodbye, but that is exactly what it ended up meaning.

Summertime Sadness :: Lana Del Rey