I don't know when it happened. I don't know when suddenly it started becoming we instead of me and you. I don't know when it started to smell like boy in my apartment and I don't know when we started telling people we lived together. I don't know when I met your mother and I don't know when I first cried in front of you. I don't know when I was first upset with you and I don't know when you started to trust me. I don't know the date when we first went down that alley into a restaurant that you claimed was "your secret spot." I don't care. I do know that shortly it will all end. This summer. That summer as I'm sure to refer to it in the future. I'll remember this time as that summer when I lied to my parents, made decisions on my own and sacrificed comfortable living to help someone else. I know that I'll always look back and remember the look on people's faces when they first found out we were living together and making it work. I'll remember the support and security I felt when I knew you were sleeping in the other room. I'll remember how we used to finish each other sentences, communicate at a party with just looks and how your unique speech pattern sunk into my vocabulary. I know that this summer I grew up. I learned that you can't expect people to act the way you want them to and that you can give all you can and sometimes it still won't be enough.
