To swinging on swings and jumping off when you reach the tops of the clouds.
To sand between your toes and being able to brush it off when it dries.
To V.C. Andrews and Dean Koontz on your bedside table while you drink your steaming cup of double tall lowfat sugarfree chai latte and close your eyes to hear Fiona Apple droning on in the background barely audible over the menacing sharp crackle of your strawberry candle burning a hole through your wall and letting in the outside world full of rapists and terrorists and daisies with extra long stems.
To froot loop flavored fortune cookies that tell the story of your life.
To kissing boys with long hair and beautiful eyes in foreign countries.
To eating Chinese food butt naked at 3 in the morning in front of your fridge and not caring if anyone sees.
