When i was younger, people told me that the years to come would be the best years of my life. they promised that our days would be inspiring and our nights would be dangerous and electrifying. they promised that our lives would be worth writing about, worth reading about. they promised love and laughter and kisses that even words won't be able to describe. but instead we got hazy days and lonely nights with the smell of cigarettes in our hair and scars on our skin. we still experienced love and laughter and kisses. but the love wasn't enough to stop our pillows from becoming stained with our salty tears, and the laughter came as frequently as the rain did in summer, and the kisses were excharged hastily, we were hungry for another person's touch. we were promised the world but all we have ever got was a trap. a.y.