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  • And when we’re gone I want them to know that we were infinite. I want them to stand on their driveways: crying, laughing, remembering. I want them to remember the way we stood at the top of the bleachers like we were on top of the world, the way we fell to the bottom just to climb back up again. I want them to remember the way we sang out loud in silver chariots, flying down dusty roads. I want them to remember how days felt like minutes and years felt like decades; the nights we couldn’t remember and the pain that we tried to forget. I want them to remember our faces, our hearts, our words. I want them to know that we made it. That we made something. That even when we’re gone, we’ll go on. I swear to god one day they’ll be novels about us, even if I have to write them myself.
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