“Bodhi is not a boy crush. He’s every love song I’ve ever heard. He’s all the colors of the rainbow. He’s—”
“Temporary.”
I squirt blue paint onto my palette. “Yes. I get it. I really, finally get it. Everything is temporary. We are nothing but now. Everyone and everything changes. And maybe Bodhi dies tomorrow. Maybe I go on and love again. But I don’t think feelings are temporary. Even when we’re no longer in love, or angry, or deliriously happy, we remember what that felt like. This feeling I have for Bodhi will linger inside of my soul long after we are no longer us. I will never forget what loving him feels like.”