Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Personal, Relationships

I feel like it’s really obvious without having been said, but I really cared about T. I still care about him. I think that going through this break up has been the most challenging.

I’ve been fucking and drinking and getting high, trying to distance myself from him. I feel like that’s the only thing I can have. Distance. Our relationship was never perfect, but I always wanted to work on it. I’d never felt that before. I was willing to change my bad behaviors, become a better person, all for the sake of a healthy relationship. I’ve probably seen twenty guys since T, between dates and just sex- I haven’t met even one person that I would consider remotely on that level with me.

They were all interesting, attractive, intelligent. But I can’t force it. From the moment I got into his car that first time, it felt like we had been friends. It felt like I had always known him. Not like love at first sight, but we definitely just got each other. And it makes me angry because I’m hurt. Because I had been so willing to be there for him, to work through problems, to be the best girlfriend I knew how. He honestly just made me want to be that person.

I don’t hate him for breaking our relationship off. His reasons were valid, even if I have a feeling they were just an excuse. I still want him to do good in life, I want him to continue seeking the things that make him happy and fulfilled. He’s going to do some good stuff in the world, I do know that.

It won’t be soon, but I will find that again and I don’t need to be on Tinder or going on dates or having meaningless sex or drunk. I need to be alone. I need to recuperate. My heart is in pain and I need to love myself.

What we had is the closest thing to love that I have ever felt.



beautiful, Beauty, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal

So this post is for me, literally no agenda. I had a secondary interview today at a donut bakery. I was worried about how things were gonna go, I knew was going to need to write with a piping bag and dip donuts and whatnot. I had never done those things before- I also really wanted the job.

What if my ideas weren’t original enough, what if my piping was sloppy, what if my personality lacked?

I was thinking about how I’m not vibing with my current coworkers, wondering if it really was just me being uncomfortable. I started to get concerned about if I was able to get along with others.

But then I walked into the kitchen. The air in that place was lighter. Suddenly being myself was effortless, there was no stifling energy, there were no negative/pretentious ass holes. Seeing the different ingredients physically brought a smile to my face- I felt boundless opportunity and I felt alive. I felt like I was where I needed to be.

Suddenly I felt like I did when I was little, throwing ingredients into a mixing bowl and putting them in the oven to see how it would cook. Experimenting with different recipes, writing them down and sharing them with family. None of them were any good, and I knew that. But something about the act of doing these things, no matter where I was in life or who I was close to, baking was spiritual. It’s an act that continually brings me closer to myself and others. I hadn’t been that excited about a job ever.

Nothing could have brought me back down to earth. In that moment, I was ecstatic.

I know my piping came out a little sloppy and there wasn’t a clear sheen on the icing after I dipped my donuts, but I got the job.

I got the job.

I am going to be decorating donuts at an amazing, quirky, fun donut shop. I really didn’t think I would get it- but I did. And now I can live out a passion and dream of mine, even if it entails waking up before the sun is even close to rising- I’m excited.

I hope this is the beginning.

I think I’m going to attend a culinary arts school and pursue this passion of mine seriously. I don’t just want to see where this takes me, I want to take the reigns and lead my life in a direction I would be proud to live.

It reminded me that I want to get a nice camera and start photographing the things I find beautiful. I want to capture the things that I look at daily that take my breath away and remind me of why I love to live. I want to capture the things that I look at and abstractly break my heart. I want to capture the nuance and captivatingly simple beauty of life.


Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

Leaves crumble, crack, and fade.
Visions of their youths,
Quietly dissipate.

Nightly apparitions,
Glasses clink, echo
into excited dawn.

Before the sun has set,
and the night has yet to age,
Hearts eagerly sit, they anticipate.

Never the cracking, crumbling, fading
That surely comes with age.

Rather the excitement of potential lovers,
Drinks that have yet to be poured,
The unrequited love to be dismantled in thin air.


Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

Everything that I have been through recently, all of the things I have experienced, it points to one thing.

I do care deeply about Leo, but he is not as significant for my life as I used to imagine.

When I was with Sam in San Francisco, I recognized how important it was for me to be with someone who was transparent and not that artificial. I was craving something more, something that I could only describe as a connection.

When I was with Donnie, I felt that same way- but he wasn’t as artificial. We weren’t connecting, though. Even though we talked about incredibly deep topics, and opened up to one another. We shared our stories of suicide attempts, our fucked up families, and emotionally unstable relationships. We talked late into the night about our deepest fears and desires. But, something major was missing for me. Something that I strive to give to other people.

When I was with Alfred, I neither connected with him or thought he was genuine. He masqueraded his expensive artwork and google home setup, but was so far gone from himself that I don’t think he was capable of emotionally opening up at that moment. I was missing it there, too.

When I was with T, we connected on a surface level, but I always felt misunderstood by him. I felt like he didn’t bother trying to understand who I was, and maybe it’s my own artificial bullshit, but I do believe that there is a lot to understand about me if someone tried. Both good and bad, I am a deep and flourishing river of things to be dissected and cherished. When I am in love with someone, that is what I do- I try to understand who they are. I try to understand what makes them tick, the in’s and out’s of what they desire, value, and their experiences. I care. That is how I care.

Last night with Leo, I was really drunk for a while. I forget everything that happened, but I know I opened up. I was really honest. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, my motivations were purely instinctual.

I realize now, I value being understood. Leo doesn’t understand me, he assumes a lot about me that I don’t believe is true. He has a really cynical world-view about everyone being selfish, and I don’t believe that is entirely true. I believe that we can become selfless. That is what I am trying to do.

I invited him to tell me all of the hurtful things that he assumed and believed about me, and he did. There was a lot. He called me naive, and I am. He said that I was manipulative, and I have been, but I work on that (with T, I wasn’t manipulative, which told me that I can be morally strong.) He started to tell me about Riley, and I had to stop him. At which point he said that it proved why people didn’t want to say hurtful things. He also called me emotional and said that he rolled his eyes internally because it seemed like I was trying too hard to prove my cynical worldview. Like I was just following the script of what I should be doing, aka being unoriginal in my efforts. He said he never felt what I felt for him, but that he cared. He cared and he was nice to me to help mask the fact that I was hurt, to try and make things better because that’s his nature.

There’s truth in what he said.

I wanted to be understood by someone else, the way I understood him. I wanted things to magically fall into place, for us to equally understand one another and all that la-di-da bullshit. That’s the naivety. The very real naivety. The part of me that would linger by Box Office after I got off work and giddily stare into his eyes before I would head home. I don’t hate that part of me, it hasn’t gotten me in trouble, it has just hurt me. I think that pain I have felt was an important part of the human experience.

Just like there’s truth in the manipulation- that’s a part of me that I actively extinguish now. She’s bitter. She’s angry. She’s mad at the world for always bringing injustice, where of course I am the Just and those who get everything are the Injust. It’s wrong. I do wrong. I am often much worse than I should be. And that part of me, she rips the photos of Vanessa in the breakroom. She gossips and weasels her way into drama. She is stern. She is a bitch. She thinks that being uptight will somehow achieve her end goals, that being cold and snarky will somehow garner respect. It doesn’t. Ripping up photos of other girls, gossiping, being cold, none of those things are respectable.

But Leo is right that it exists within me.

He’s right that I am emotional, but I want to understand it instead of getting rid of it. Too many people wander through life ignoring how they feel, and I won’t be one of them. I don’t want to be an explosion of emotions though. I want my emotions to be reasonable and in control. Perhaps that’s the next journey I will go on, emotional maturity.

He’s right that the world can be selfish and will consistently hurt you, and maybe this is just my naivety coming out to play, but I hold myself to a higher standard. I will work toward being morally in-tune with myself and my actions. Maybe I should adopt the whole notion that what I don’t know can’t hurt me. Maybe just for the time being.

I need to stop emotionally exhausting myself in situations that aren’t important.

What is important?

The moment? Family? Having a sense of purpose? Success, however it is that you define it? Love? Is love important? Are the mementos important?

I gauge what is important through my heart, what I am called to and called to do- that’s important. But I’m completely questioning it now because I thought my heart was calling for me to love Leo, I thought that it was important. I thought it was some version of destiny or fate calling to me to do what was supposed to be done.

I don’t regret listening to my heart. It’s never directed me in a path that ended up being wrong for me-

So what about Leo, then? Your heart called you there. Maybe not because you two were destined to fall in love with each other, but because he could teach you something important.

I know that I have improved who I am incredible amounts since I’ve had feelings for him. I have learned the truest parts of who I am, and the negative attributes that I have acquired through pain. I have become a more genuine me. The me I have always known I was- and I’m not done, I’m nowhere near finished on my path toward being a more sincere person. But I have made progress.

Maybe that’s why my heart was drawn to Leo. His influence in my life not only helped me grow, but it has helped me work on my biggest flaws. I could be the most giving person in the world, but if I continued to rip up the pictures of other girls and gossip and be nasty inside, I would never be genuine. If I continued to be concerned with what everyone thought about me, I would never be satisfied as I am.

I can admit when I am wrong, I am judgemental and insecure. My self-esteem takes it’s highs and lows seriously. When I am confident, nothing can tear me down. When I am insecure, it could take a slight breeze to push me over the edge.

I deal with depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies, and I’m showing signs of an addictive personality. Those are my big ones, the things I haven’t really been able to tackle yet because I’m stuck on the manipulation and insecurity and loneliness. I know they are intertwined. I know my problems don’t exist separately in different realms. They are one and the same. One larger picture, one big issue that I couldn’t take on right now.

So instead of dealing with it, I indulge. Another guy, another night, another unidentified pill, another glass, another emotionally charged writing session, another breakdown. What it comes down to is that I’m unsure what the bigger problem is, I don’t know how to help myself because I can’t say what’s wrong. I just know that I want to be understood, I want company, I want stimulation, I want to love and be loved.

My bed smells like him. His presence is still in this room, shadows have been cast into a timeless place that does not forget who has been here. His voice reverberates in the walls, it dances with the wind of the passing storm. You have been in this place. For me, love resounds.

There is beauty, even in this.


Journal, Love, New, Partner, Personal, Relationships, sex

Last night was single-handedly the most confusing experience of my life, (A+ for my exaggerations?)

I’m honestly more confused now than ever, and for once I’m not trying to analyze it.

We had sex. That’s all I’m gonna say on that matter. It happened. I’m kinda baffled about that. Kinda thought it would never actually happen… I haven’t told anyone. I mean I told my sister he was in my bed this morning and she probably connected the dots, but I didn’t explicitly say anything.

It is what it is and whatever that is, that’s just how it is. <<<< most confusing sentence ever, but if you really read it, things make sense.

I’m not mad about it, I’m not proud, I’m not disgusted, I’m just like- yeah. That happened.

Life is going to play itself out, and I’m tired of meddling. I feel like it’s too much and I am exhausted. No more drama or emotional rollercoasters, okay hun? Like can you be chill for 2 secs while the rest of the world catches up with the twenty million things you decided mattered Right NOw?

I woke up feeling fine, but as the day progressed I realized that I was incredibly hung over. I’ve been laying on the sofa sipping water with an ice pack on my head. I’m finally starting to feel okay, and it’s almost 7pm.

I start my new job tomorrow. Kind of excited, but also like kinda not just because I don’t want to have to work again.. Should really not complain because I’m only working short mid-shifts and not even full time. I’m working literally so little and I’m also going to have weekends off. I should Not Complain.

But hell, does anyone ever want to go to work? I’m not even that excited to meet my new coworkers or anything, and jesus christ this is why I don’t have any friends.

Ugh, I was so much more chill in San Francisco and have constantly been having mental breakdowns since coming back home. Wishing I could harness that same I don’t Give a Fuck energy that I had there. Because I didn’t. I knew no one, I had money, I was independent, no one could cut me down to their level. I was skinny, pretty, had good hair and skin, no one could touch me. Ya know?

But now I live with my mom again. I am real again. I am not a caricature of myself, I still have to come back down to Earth and deal with my problems.

I messaged T last night while I was laying in bed next to Leo… Weird turn of events after that- but I said something along the lines of “I love everything that hurts me” and that I couldn’t love the things that were really good for me because I was never treated right as a kid.

I learned to deal with pain but never learned to accept happiness.

Now I don’t know how to be happy. I want to. If you had asked me seven or eight months ago if I would be happy if I got to sleep in bed next to Leo and hold him all night, I would have hands down said yes. I would have gone on and on about how much I loved him and that it would be so satisfying to hold the person I love close to me.

And as nice as it was, as satisfying as it was- I could not enjoy it. All I could think about was how he said he thought I was too emotional, that he never felt that pheromone connection, that he cared about me and was sexually attracted to me but his friendliness was out of his need to care for things that weren’t okay.

And so I couldn’t lay there and be satisfied. I honestly felt so empty, because that is not love. I romanticized him because I thought he wanted the same things as me- because I thought maybe he was naive enough to believe in love like me. And after last night, ready for the dumbest part of all of this, I am still trying to find reasons to think it Could Be. After his whole spiel on how it isn’t.

But that’s just the first thoughts I have, my secondary ones, they know that’s not true. We had sex, followed by the wonderful rush of hormones that comes with it, and that’s all. Him inviting me to see a movie tonight was not an indication that anything changed. Him crying and apologizing for not getting to know me sooner is not an indication that anything changed. Nothing has changed.

He still doesn’t love me. His motivations are still the same, he probably just wants to lessen my pain, and god damn I was so close to falling for it.

I told him I loved him last night when I was drunk. I said that.

I need to calm down.


Beauty, Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Relationships

My ego doesn’t want me to do this. It doesn’t want me to tell the truth. It would be perfectly content lying to you, saying all the things I wish were true. Like, saying that I don’t care.

But I’ve had feelings for you for over a year – I’m going to be transparent with you. Not because it’s easy, but because I value transparency. And because I want a sense of clarity here.

If I lied to you, I would just keep struggling. I could not grow.

I realize that being so honest puts me in a vulnerable place. However, being in a vulnerable spot isn’t going to stop me from being truthful.

I’m willing to cause myself discomfort in order to live by a set of values I’ve come to realize matter to me.

And I don’t want to be the kind of person who uses honesty as a thin veil to be a bitch.

There’s always a point in time where we find ourselves caught in regrettable action. Doing something that doesn’t coincide with who we are or what we believe. And in that moment we are faced with a decision. We must consider a few things; the way your actions made you feel, the way your actions made others feel, and whether those actions align with how you want to conduct yourself in the future.

The way I felt for you was very powerful. It was a pendulum, swaying from good to bad.

Due to lack of communication, I found myself really hurt. I never knew what you were thinking or how you felt. But I’m also not blind or dumb, I know we were never together. I know I tried to coerce you too much. I also know some of what has been said about me, and I’ve picked up from others that things have been said or insinuated, and that really hurts.

I’ve been an open book with you, and this is one of those moments where I have to decide how I want to act in the future.

Is this level of transparency productive? Is being a totally open book healthy?

Because I know that in this situation I came off as very desperate – but personally I know I’m not. I don’t need you, I’m not hopeless without you. I’m not under the impression that I’ll live a sad and helpless life without you.

I know I’m completely capable of being happy without a partner.

And I feel like my actions haven’t translated that for you.

All of the things I have done for you – the letters, bringing your favorite coffee for you, inviting you over… All of that was just supposed to show you that I cared about you. That you weren’t some object to me. But instead, things became convoluted.

When there wasn’t a clear answer for me, my insecurity came out. I felt toyed with. Perhaps you didn’t want to hurt me. Perhaps you wanted to keep me around for a rainy day.

My personal favorite explanation is that you really do feel something between us, however, I remind you so much of your dysfunctional ex-girlfriend that you cannot let me in. But you feel the same timeless thing I feel for you. You remember everything is as much vivid detail as I do, and you shared those parts of your life with me to value and treasure- not just because I was your friend, but because you wanted us to feel a connection before I left. I want to believe that you listen to the same song I do and think of me, that daisies remind you of me like they remind me of you, and there is a very simple and familiar calling within you that confirms things should be.

But that’s just when I allow myself to indulge.

It’s hard not to when the song that reminds me of you comes on as you drive past me on my walk.


beautiful, Beauty, Family, feminism, Her, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Nature, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, Small Things

I have had an inner calling to go home. Something deep, mystical, and spiritual. I had this calling when I was still with T. Muttered about it under my breath, seemingly out of nowhere. I want to go home.

My soul is withered, has lost all passion. I wake up with the desire to do good but feel as though I am weighed down. I have the desire to feel free and passionate and happy, but something has been in my way.

So I am returning home, with the intent to nourish my soul and regain my spiritual self.

I walk around with a veil over my heart, and it has been this way since I have been in San Francisco. I have lost touch with myself. But that didn’t start when I was here, it started a long time ago. Honestly, before I can even remember.

But I know what it is like to be in touch with my soul, to feel vibrant and alive and free.

I am making my way home so that I can feel like that every day. So I can learn to bring it with me wherever I go.

So that my heart, my soul, my psyche can be revived.

There is a part of myself that I cannot deny, one that thrives in nature. As a child, I felt the call of the wilderness when on ranches. I felt a connection to my psyche in the wild animals. I felt the freedom that came with the open wilderness. I was one with the world.

I have the energy of wild howling wolves in my heart. I must stay in touch with it.

I can feel it now, in it’s tamest sense, as I grow herbs on my window sill in my high rise apartment. But I am not happy. They are not happy. We are confined by these spaces and domesticated into something that society considers good.

We bulldoze and change everything in our paths. Yet we never allow ourselves to stop and breath. To harness our natural born desires to be free.

I will no longer live with a veil over my heart. I will no longer deny myself the desire to do what I need.

I am going home, and no one can stop me.

People have been taking and taking from me. Work demanded every possible part of me. T didn’t really demand a lot, but I wanted to give him everything. So I gave him everything; my attention, my love, my thought. Even when he was not around, I was doing things for him. Shaving my legs, washing my hair, sweeping up my hair before he came over, I cleaned, I cooked for us, I bought him gifts, it was constant. But it was not bad. I feel like I should repeat that. It was not bad.

I knew he was 17. I knew he was not emotionally in a place to do the same thing for me, and I did it anyway. Only because I didn’t realize I needed it in return. I assumed I was an ever-flowing fountain of giving.

So, I made his bed. I cleaned his room. I tried to form relationships with his family. I exhausted myself for my love of him.

The other day I wrote that I never loved T- but I honestly don’t even know what love is.

I can say that I cared very deeply for that boy. That he made me smile when he walked in the room. That his passion for things sparked some sort of passion in me. I know that our break up has caused and is still causing me physical pain.

I know that I learned to sincerely care about who he was and who he aspired to be.

And I enveloped myself in him, but lost connection with my self. He was not toxic, but the way that I tuned out my intuition with him was not good for me.

I’ve learned to listen to the person I am inside, and she’s withering away. She needs to be taken care of.


Journal, Love, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Dear T,
I am sorry.

It’s going on three weeks since we broke up. The first two, I didn’t eat. I still lose my appetite when I think of you.

I don’t think I can honestly say I loved you… I really wanted to, but how could I love someone who didn’t hold me close to them when we slept over? How could I love someone who put down my artistic efforts? Or kicked me out after sex and the mornings I woke up at your place?

It was so deafeningly obvious that you didn’t want me around, and I just wanted someone who could pretend to care. I was okay with our arrangement because it was easy to ignore how loveless it was when I thought about how alone I would be without you. That’s hard to admit, but saying it feels true.

I have been in love with Leo, I have been in love with him since we first made eye contact and I often thought of him when I was with you. And I lied to you. And to myself. And here on my blog.

That night when your head was on my chest, and you asked why my heart started beating fast, it wasn’t because I was thinking about how I might love you. 

And I know I told you that was why. Which is why I am sorry. I knowingly lied to you.

I got nervous because I realized I was still in love with Leo and wished it was him laying on my chest watching a movie.

But that was too fucked up, and I wanted to live in the fantasy of our picture-perfect relationship. I didn’t want to be that girl. I really wanted to prove I could be the perfect girlfriend. So I denied it to myself and I actively tried to hide that disgusting truth so I would feel less guilty.

Fuck. The week before you told me you loved me, I was writing about how I couldn’t love you because I would never love anyone like I loved Leo.

And when I went back home to SLO, I confirmed that for myself.

My heart probably skipped enough beats to kill me when I saw him behind that counter again. I felt more joy going to see Eighth Grade with him as a friend than any date we ever went on.

I’m sorry I lied to you.

But I’m not just making this up, hell I have phone call logs of every time I called him while we were together. How else can you explain that I haven’t even once since we broke up tried to call you? I’ve been drunk and sloppy and crying, and you know who I called? Leo. I have that article I wrote a week before you said you loved me, here it is. November 25th. And this is when I started lying. You can tell I don’t believe what I’m saying. You can tell I’m having to convince myself by how I write.

I think that what I used to believe was love is just an ideal

I think about all those little moments he and I shared together and I really don’t think they meant anything at all. Not in the grand scheme of things. They did to me, in my head, at the moment, and when I was holding him. But he was always a two-faced guy, wasn’t he? I don’t think I ever trusted him.

It explains why in the song I recently wrote, I say that “It’s not you, it’s everyone who leaves” – I knew deep down that I just really didn’t want to be alone. I sincerely hated the idea of being by myself. And it explains why I couldn’t get off for the last month we were together.

It also explains why I just walked away after we broke up. I didn’t try to talk until I got back up to my empty apartment and the loneliness began to set in. I couldn’t handle the idea of being alone in this city.

I was talking to my mom about Leo when I visited for Christmas, and she asked if I was being honest with you. She could tell that I was still in love.

She knew because I was laying on her bed, in tears, sobbing about him. I was crying about another guy, how obvious could I have been? Yet still, I denied it.

I really wanted to believe I loved you.

But really, you just made me comfortable. You were a great friend to me.

I’m sorry I am a liar.


Her, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, New, Partner, Personal, Relationships

As much as I valued my last relationship, it’s good that things ended. I never questioned going above and beyond for him and I should have. I should have cared about myself more and had higher standards for the way he treated me.

When I say that, he never treated me bad. He never physically hurt me or emotionally manipulated me. Sometimes he was just more selfish in the relationship than me. He would tell me that I couldn’t stay over and he would tell me that I had to leave a lot. He would kick me out in the morning after staying over just so that he could have his day to himself. That was incredibly rude and always hurt me, and I could have communicated that I wasn’t cool with that. I don’t have to tolerate bullshit like that.

The next time I am someone’s girlfriend, they better want me around all the goddamn time. I understand wanting personal space, but if you don’t want me to be a part of your personal space then I don’t wanna be your girlfriend. I need someone who is so obsessed with me that they can never get enough.

I appreciate everything that happened with T, I only look back at that relationship with love and respect. However, I will learn from the mistakes and I will grow. Just like every other relationship I have had. And the next one that comes will be stronger and more fulfilling than the last- as has happened before.

So next time I am going to be cared about to the point where I am practically worshiped and I’m not going to put up with feeling like I am needy for loving my partner.

okay, rant over. I deserve love.



Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Dear T,
I’m glad you came over to talk tonight. It gave me the closure I needed and reminded me that you aren’t some heartless bastard. You just needed time to process your thoughts before we could talk about it together.

Thank you. Not just for tonight, but for being there for me. Thank you for being the person who I spent my time in San Francisco with. I literally couldn’t have picked someone better. You told me about that tree in Golden Gate Park that has owls. You told me about how you would go to Ripley’s museum on the Wharf as a kid. You introduced me to a part of San Francisco that I didn’t even know existed, to the opulent neighborhoods and the rich kids who don’t know anything else. I listened to every word.

Every moment we spent together meant the world to me. I’ll miss laying on your couch, smiling as you walk through the door. I’ll miss laying awake at night, unable to fall asleep because your bed was uncomfortable, but having you there and being satisfied. I’ll miss going to get coffee together after staying at your house and eating breakfast with your family and watching The Twilight Zone together.

I’ll miss when you picked me up from work. I’ll miss going to that party together. I’ll miss watching the Sister Brothers together in that theatre. I’ll miss going to the mall together and holding hands, taking walks on the beach. Getting ice cream at the place with the spinning wheel. The pizza place with the mounted car that had rolling wheels (still think that gluten-free pizza was bad, though.)

I’m going to miss a lot of things, but mostly I’ll miss waking up to you in the morning. Your messy morning face and hair. I’ll miss going to bed next to you at night. Holding each other in a comfortable silence.

I really do hope that we cross paths again. I hope that wasn’t just some breakup nonsense. No matter where you go, what you do, or where you end up – I am here supporting you.

I love you TLE, that will never change.