Clwb

I curled my hair and left it down, grabbed a bottle of rosé and a borrowed shirt and went out tonight. I danced and (mostly) didn't care about how I looked while I was doing it, I put makeup on and managed to forget how clownish it makes me feel. I stood in a McDonald's queue at 2.30 a.m. in my best friend's jumper and climbed into bed tuckered out and happy.
This is what being young is supposed to be like. This is what they tell you is a golden evening, something fleeting and brilliant that glows quietly in the back of your mind after you've experienced it. You can't relive it, hold onto it, the memory of it will fade and alter and perhaps you'll forget it altogether... But it happened. You were there. You lived.