Sometimes is always okay.

Sometimes, the walk from the car to your house in the pouring rain isn't that bad. Slow down. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Listen to the pitter-patter. Smell the wet pavement. Suddenly, the frizziness of your hair seems secondary.

Sometimes, acting like a child is the best option. When every second of your life is consumed by obligations, to-do lists, stress, and worries, you forget how wonderful the simplicity of childhood was. I promise you - the hardest I laughed today was during a game of leap frog with my 23-year-old best friend.

Sometimes, simply not talking says much more than any combination of words ever could. As a teenager, I thought I could be more mature, more assertive, more 'grown-up' if I spoke my mind. Only now do I realize that silence speaks as loudly as words and, sometimes, the best way to make yourself heard is to say nothing at all.

Sometimes, watching the stars is the best self-medication. There is no better way to humble yourself or put things into perspective than realizing how big the universe is. As self-centered as we can be at times, it feels refreshing to know that we aren't alone, we aren't a mistake, and we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves.

Sometimes, he knows exactly what you need without you having to say it. The connection you share is more than physical, more than emotional - something organic, something cosmic. He reads your body like Braille and tells a beautiful story. Sometimes, you're grateful you don't need to speak because you aren't sure you'd be able to find the right words, anyway.

Sometimes, that boy that could read you like a book becomes a stranger. He used to know every intimate detail, your naive dreams, the secrets of your soul. Then, one day, you are driving past a place that reminds you of him or you hear a song that you shared and you realize that he's merely a memory - a translucent image of what you both used to be.

Sometimes, I have days where I remember him. I think about how I used to feel and used to dream. I feel so disappointed by mistakes and regrets. I find myself missing something. Not him - because he isn't who he used to be. Not then - because I've loved so many things and people since. I think it's me I miss - the me with him, the me who loved unconditionally, the me who felt confident, happy, vibrant, and destined for big things.

Sometimes, I find myself crying. I used to pretend it didn't matter. I used to pretend I didn't think about it, that I was okay, that that part of me was gone. I used to think that reflecting on the past would only cause me pain. Only now do I realize that remembering, and even crying, isn't just okay sometimes.

It's always okay.