Catch a Falling Star

Today marks one week for Ryan and I. Unofficially, it may as well have been almost a month, but it was seven days ago today that I finally gave up on waiting and decided to jump.
Being with him is less like falling headoverheels deeplymadlytruly and more like climbing down a ladder. I’m trying to be careful, I’m trying to take my time and make sure each rung is there before I take another step, but the next rung never does appear until I take the risk.
Life is all about risks, and there’s nothing to do with life but live it. So what should I do with the time I have but use it?
It won’t be long before gravity catches back up. When it does, I guess I’ll fall; the whole way down, I’m going to hope he meant it when he promised to catch me at the bottom.

Prom was overrated, but I didn’t expect much more than that. It’s the third time I’ve gone (I’ll go all four years of my high school career) so it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. Once the sparkle has worn off, there isn’t much else to it.

I hope the sparkle doesn’t wear off of this.
And when it does, I hope there’s something worth looking at underneath.
(I won’t know what to do with myself when it’s gone).