I'm a bisexual boy who's been dating my boyfriend since we were sixteen-years-old. I spent the night at his house yesterday. At dawn, with the hem of the quilt at my chin, I clinged to a dream I did not want to leave, but my boyfriend laid his hand on my shoulder and whispered me awake. He said, "Wake up, you'll miss the wolves." I wrapped the quilt around myself like a cloak and went downstairs and out the backdoor. We stared out at the forest and heard the howls. First one, then two, then many, then more. It filled me with wonder. Afterwards, I made us coffee and breakfast and we studied for our college classes. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I am still the shy sixteen-year-old sitting beside him in high-school biology, still the shy sixteen-year-old who'd blush when our eyes met, whose heart would cartwheel when our hands brushed briefly as the professor droned on and on about Charles Darwin, still the shy sixteen-year-old aching for a boy who was too divine, too beautiful, who I knew I did not deserve. But look at us now. Look at me, look at him. I love him so much, I'm afraid my heart will overflow and burst into a million pieces. Life is so wonderful and strange.