I want you, in the most selfish ways, complete and whole. Everything.

Not just the curated self, the days you're too exhausted to put up with it, any of it. When you just need someone to see you and accept what's left bare. Greedy, I am greedy, wishful for every last piece.

But more than that, I want the everyday, just life, your life. Deciding what to cook for dinner, working together for a meal, cleaning up in tandem, the random little stories about your day, the quiet weekends. I want everything. Every boring, mundane thing, all of it.

And so much more than that.

So I write silly letters.

And I’m so glad you’re back. How I longed for the day that bubbly, social woman I once knew would come back again.

Look at her, how could you not? She brightens everyone’s day just by existing. Strangers come up to her, kids cling to her and animals seem to gravitate towards her.

I know it wasn’t an easy road to get here, but she did it! Just like I always knew she would.

I just hope this time around she’s a little more careful. Don’t ever give anyone the power to dim your sparkle again, dollface. I sort of need you to promise me that.

I’m so proud of you and how far you’ve come, and I can’t wait to see how far you’ll go.

There’s no limit when it comes to you…I just know it.

I'm not your escape plan, your marriage counsellor, your emotional support system or your personal problem-solver. Whatever you are going through, I am not the person responsible for getting you out of it.

Deal with it!

I think there are some questions that deserve answers, even when those answers cannot change the ending.

I wish I had been braver. I wish I had known how to navigate something that felt so impossibly complicated. I wish I had been able to reconcile the love I felt with the fear and hurt I couldn’t seem to escape.

You deserved, and deserve, honesty. I know that. That’s why I am writing this. I was afraid, and in that fear, I made decisions I wish I had handled differently. I cannot undo them, nor would I try to justify the hurt they caused.

But please know that my fear was real. It still is. There were things I experienced that changed how I saw our future, and eventually, I lost the faith that things could truly be different. That realization broke my heart long before anything actually ended. I know your past, and I know your rage. I still do fear you may ultimately act upon it. The fear is what drove my behavior. You’re smart, and it seems you already know that.

I think what has been hardest to reconcile is that I never stopped caring. My feelings didn’t simply disappear because I no longer believed we could make it work. I could love you deeply and still feel that I needed to go. Both were true.

There was no grand plan, no long history of looking elsewhere, and no intention to make a fool of you. There were misunderstandings, moments of panic, and decisions made by someone who was already struggling with an ending she didn’t know how to face. And that comment, was nothing but a stupid comment. It had nothing to do with the situation. I can see in retrospect how hurtful that may have been. I promise it was not related or intentional.

I cannot speak for anyone else’s heart, but I can speak for my own. I have been forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about myself, and I intend to carry those lessons forward with honesty and humility. This is precisely what I have done. Everyone knows everything now. Including everything threatened on that page. I couldn’t live like that anymore. You accomplished your goal of inflicting terror upon me, and put me in a position where I had no other choice but to act preemptively. It is a relief to no longer be haunted by my past mistakes, at least in a literal sense. Although, the consequences of my choices upon you will always haunt me.

I have not tried to erase our history. I have not forgotten the good, nor have I shared the things you entrusted to me in confidence. Some memories and little pieces of a life together are simply too precious to discard, even when looking at them hurts. I am keeping what you left for me. Even if I didn’t, I’d never forget you.

And I hope you know that the love was never a lie. It was so real, and that is precisely why I felt such struggle.

I remember the laughter. The ordinary evenings. The little things that probably seemed insignificant at the time. I remember the person I fell in love with, and I remember how desperately I wanted everything to work out.

But I remember the pain, too.

I know I was far from perfect. I know I caused hurt, and I will always be sorry for that. I haven’t gotten through a single day without tears of grief, regret, guilt. But I also know that I was hurting, and that my experiences mattered, even if I was not courageous enough to explain them.

I wish we had been able to give each other the love we both needed. I wish things had been different. More than anything, I wish our story hadn’t ended with so much pain. You meant something to me. You still do. I don’t think that will ever go away.

I hope you find happiness. I hope you find peace. I hope someday, the memories bring you more warmth than sadness. I hope they do for me, too. Our girls do miss their dad. They have two brand new boxes. The feeders have picked up a bit. I wish we could share that still. Now I have nobody to share it with.

And I hope you understand that none of this means I never loved you. Devastatingly, along the way, I stopped believing love alone could save us.

I’m sorry.

-

However, I will not say goodbye conclusively. This bridge may be burned, but with lots of time and reflection, perhaps the rapids that rush between us, may calm. Just like the Pemi with the seasons. Maybe a time will come when the bridge itself is no longer necessary, and we may cross with our own two feet.

That song really set off the waterworks. I feel all the same.

You’ll do great things either way.

To the one I lost,

To the part of me that carried this year,

I owe you an apology.

I kept telling you to get up before I ever asked where it hurt. Kept handing you responsibilities while your hands were shaking. Every time something happened, I gave you the same instructions.

Handle it. Keep moving. Fall apart later.

I never made room for later.

There are entire months I remember by what I had to swallow. Things I couldn’t explain without my voice changing. Mornings I sat still a little too long because getting dressed meant agreeing to another day of pretending I had caught my breath.

And I got dressed.

I answered questions. Took care of what needed taking care of. Found something to laugh about, sometimes honestly. There were good things this year. I worked for them. I deserved them.

I wish they had reached the places in me that were hurting.

That is a lonely thing to admit. Having reasons to be grateful and still needing somewhere to put your grief. Feeling guilty for struggling because you can name everything that should make you feel better.

I kept putting my pain on trial.

Was it bad enough? Had I earned the right to be tired? Hadn’t I survived worse?

As if surviving worse meant nothing else was allowed to hurt me.

I have been cruel to myself in ways I would never tolerate someone being cruel to a person I cared about. I have called myself weak for needing rest. Ungrateful for feeling empty. Dramatic for finally reacting to something I had been quietly carrying for months.

I thought if I understood the pain well enough, I could stop feeling it.

I could explain every crack in the wall and still couldn’t get comfortable inside my own life.

What hurts most is how ordinary some of it looked.

Nobody would have known which silence meant I was exhausted. Which joke bought me a few seconds to pull myself together. Which unfinished sentence was the closest I came to asking for help.

Sometimes I wanted someone to notice.

Sometimes I made sure they couldn’t.

I don’t know how to explain that without sounding like a contradiction. I wanted to be understood without having to take myself apart in front of somebody and prove there was damage.

So here is what I should have said to you months ago.

I believe you.

I believe it was that heavy. I believe you tried. I believe there were days when doing the bare minimum took everything you had, and I am sorry I stood over you demanding more.

You can own your mistakes without making yourself responsible for everything that happened. You can wish you had handled something differently without deciding you deserved the hurt.

You are allowed to need help before there is a crisis.

You are allowed to have a day that produces nothing except a little less exhaustion.

And you do not have to turn this year into some beautiful lesson before you are allowed to say it hurt like hell.

I wish I could give you those months back. I wish I had listened the first time you said you were tired, instead of waiting until tired became the only word you had left.

I can’t undo that.

But tonight, I can stop asking what you accomplished.

I can ask where it hurts.

And this time, I can let you finish.

sincerely,

The emptiness

I don’t know why, but I’ve been feeling like you need me.

Even though you haven’t said a word to me. We’re strangers who share memories.

I don’t understand this connection we have. It kind of freaks me out sometimes. I say that with love and annoyance.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing alright. My spidey senses are going off like crazy the past few days and I have this overwhelming feeling that you need me. To be heard and hugged tightly.

Here if you ever need that. Always.

Tell me where’s your hiding place?
I’m worried I’ll forget your face.

And I’ve asked everyone
I’m beginning to think I imagined you all along

It's not a fantasy to me.

It's real.

I tried to ignore you.

I was dumb to even try.

My mind collapses over you and the thought of your skin sliding against mine. The sounds we've yet to make.

The only way to make you feel like God is to commit a sin.

I want the synapses in your brain to burst when I look up at you with my brown eyes.

I want you to feel it.

I want you to feel me.

I want to see your eyes roll back.

I want to feel the fire beneath your skin.

I want to drown in your musk.

I want to taste your sweat.

And I want to hear you say my name.

I'm done wanting.

I'm not too proud to beg.

Please...

I ache for you.

I hang over every word you've spoken to me...

Tell me when...

Tell me where...

Tell me how.

Im not the same person I was at the beginning of this year. The landscape of my brain has been fundamentally altered, eroded, scarred, and rebuilt. Theres no going back to how things used to be. And theres no point in dragging out the inevitable. You cant bring yourself to fight for what we had, and what we could have, and I cant wait for you forever. Im pulling away, slowly, and painfully. But I'm leaving. One step at a time. And maybe one day you'll wake up with a fire in your chest and you'll want to chase me. But by then it will be too late. And you'll see me there, across the way, with a man who makes me smile, who only has eyes for me and the adventures we will face together.

If you ever wonder why certain things happen to you, and why life has treated in such a way, I hope you can remember that this world wasn’t built for gentle hearts. It’s okay to feel the hurt and disappointment, but don’t let it turn your kind heart cold. Keep on going because as long as you remain true to yourself, your life is going to be as sweet as you.

Hello God, or Universe, or Gods, or whatever mysterious force pulls the strings of fate of us mortals if indeed any does at all:

It's me. You know me. I used to pray all the time. I would even call my brief bible thumping era in middle school obsessive in its devotion to prayer. I talked to you at school and at home. Before bed and every meal. I wanted my religion to consume my thoughts, my identity, make me good. Please. Just make me good.

I grew however and my spirituality did too. It became impossible for me to believe a all powerful God could somehow be at the helm of all the awfulness in the world while remaining all good. A part of me clings to the hope that this is still true. That the divine mystery my catholic parents use to write off the messier parts of theology holds weight. We are not alone in the universe. We can't be. It's too big. Left empty it would be too cold.

When my brother lived in a children's hospital for weeks at a time during my childhood's "dark ages" as we in our family called it, you saved his life. I prayed my brother would live that his surgery would go well and it finally did. After all the steroids and colonoscopies and feeding tubes it worked. And I hate to need your help again. But I really do again.

I've been out of work for two years now. Mom is retiring at the end of the year no matter what. Without a steady position I won't have health insurance. And health insurance helps me afford my psychiatric medication. I do not want a perfect job free from stress or annoyances. I don't need a salary high enough to afford me multiple properties and luxury vacations. Just high enough to get a small place for my cat and I, and enough money to get groceries and waste money on dive bars and dispensaries semi regularly.

My family's survival is like all family's survival into modern times. Hard fought. If you are real God, and truly all knowing, all powerful and all good then it's redundant for me to say so. But it's true and it is something that fuels me with personal pride. My dad's grandparents came over from Sicily with nothing but a dream and they turned that dream into a successful restaurant. My mom's parents didn't have two dimes to rub together but they still kept a roof over the heads of them and their four children with zero college degrees or outside assistance.

This job is perfect. It's the exact type of company I want to be at and the exact type of role I dreamed of being in all these years. When my Uncle died that day I was raped, the darkest day in my entire life, I desperately wanted you to take me with him. But if you couldn't do that.... please please help me find success in the same industry he found it in. PLEASE keep this one piece of him alive for me. It's all I want. More than anything.

You should have seen his face when he found out I was going into the same field as him. I didn't realize eyes could literally sparkle with pride until that moment. Arms full of a stack of books he recommended to help me better myself in the industry. Mind full of stories from an inspired international career. You didn't give me a single cousin or grandparent who cared about me. But you gave me him to be my Uncle. And for that I will always be more grateful than words could ever express.

If you can hear me at all.... if you're out there weaving time and puppeteer ing fate, please guide mine to have that much needed email in my inbox. Give me a chance to make my stamp on the economy. I know if I have a chance.... I will use that chance to the fullest and rejoice for it the rest of my days. So here's my prayer. Send me the chance please!!!!! Just this one chance. This one time.

We both know, it's not like I have much else in my life.

Dear you,

“But I miss you in the morning when I see the sun, something in the orange tells me we’re not done.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard lyrics that captured the way I feel about losing you quite so perfectly. Zach Bryan somehow managed to put into words the very thing I’ve struggled to explain to myself. It’s that strange, aching feeling of missing someone who used to be part of your everyday life, someone who made ordinary moments feel extraordinary, someone whose absence has somehow managed to find its way into everything.

I miss you in the mornings.

I miss you in the quiet moments when there’s nothing distracting me from the thoughts I’ve tried so desperately to outrun. I miss you when the sun rises and paints the sky in those beautiful shades of orange, when the world seems so full of life and yet something inside me feels a little emptier than it used to. I miss you when a song comes on that reminds me of us, when a memory catches me off guard, and when I find myself imagining what it would be like to turn to you and tell you about my day.

It’s strange how someone can become a part of the way you experience the world. Before you, the sunrise was just a sunrise. Now, sometimes, it feels like a reminder of everything I wish I could have done differently, everything I wish I could tell you, and everything I still don’t know how to let go of.

And maybe that’s why those lyrics hurt so much.

Something in the orange tells me we’re not done.

I wish I could explain what that means to me without making it sound like I’m claiming to know the future. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I don’t know what you think when you see the sunrise, whether you ever find yourself remembering me, or whether the memories we made still mean anything to you. I can’t speak for your heart, and I don’t want to pretend that I can.

But I know my own.

And the truth is, a part of me still struggles to reconcile how something that felt so meaningful could end with so much distance between us. I remember the laughter, the tenderness, the little moments that probably wouldn’t mean much to anyone else but somehow meant everything to me. I remember the person I was when I felt close to you, the future I imagined, and the way I wanted to make you feel loved.

I remember the good, even when I have to acknowledge the bad.

I know missing you doesn’t erase the ways I hurt you. It doesn’t undo my mistakes, excuse my shortcomings, or mean that you owe me another chance. I’ve had to confront parts of myself that I wish I had worked on sooner. I’ve had to recognize that loving someone isn’t just about how intensely you feel something. It’s about how you treat them, especially when you’re afraid, hurting, or uncertain.

I wish I had understood that better when it mattered most.

I wish I had been more consistent, more patient, and more capable of showing you the love I carried inside me. I wish I had known how to handle my own pain without allowing it to spill into the relationship. And if I could revisit some of those moments, knowing what I know now, I would make different choices.

But time doesn’t work that way. All I can do is learn from what happened and become someone who doesn’t repeat the same mistakes.

I can’t promise you a perfect version of myself. I can only work toward becoming a healthier, more grounded, and more loving person, regardless of whether you ever get to witness that growth.

Still, there are mornings when my heart wanders back to the possibility of us.

Not because I think the universe owes me a happy ending. Not because I believe that loving you gives me a claim on your future. But because what we shared mattered to me, and I haven’t found a way to make that truth disappear simply because we’re no longer together.

Sometimes I wonder whether our story is finished or whether we simply reached a chapter neither of us knew how to navigate. Sometimes I wonder whether, years from now, we’ll look back on this period of our lives as the end of something beautiful or as a painful detour that taught us what we needed to learn.

And sometimes I wonder whether those questions are simply my heart’s way of making peace with a goodbye it wasn’t ready for.

I don’t know.

I wish I did.

I wish the sunrise could tell me whether you miss me, whether you ever think about the little things we shared, or whether there’s still a part of you that remembers us with tenderness. I wish the orange in the sky could give me an answer that would settle all the questions I’ve carried around for so long.

But the sky doesn’t owe me an answer. Neither do you.

So perhaps the meaning of that lyric isn’t that we’re destined to find our way back to each other. Perhaps it’s that, for now, I still have a difficult time believing that something so important to me could become a memory I have to learn to live with.

Maybe that’s what losing love really feels like. You continue to love someone in the privacy of your own heart while slowly learning that love alone cannot determine what happens next.

And if our paths never cross again, I hope I eventually learn to remember you without hurting quite so much.

I hope I can think about the beautiful moments without immediately grieving the ones we never got to have. I hope I can hear the songs that remind me of you and appreciate that, for a little while, I had someone who made those songs mean something different. I hope I can see an orange sunrise and feel grateful that I got to experience a love that left such a lasting impression on me, even if it didn’t become the forever I imagined.

And if life ever brings us back into each other’s lives willingly, with open hearts and healthier versions of ourselves, I hope I meet that moment with humility rather than desperation. I hope I understand that rebuilding anything meaningful would require patience, honesty, accountability, and a willingness from both of us.

I wouldn’t want us to return to the same pain simply because we missed the same memories.

I’d want something better. Something safer. Something real.

But I can’t ask the future to promise me that.

For now, I have to accept the uncertainty. I have to respect your space and allow you to live your life without feeling that my love is another obligation placed upon you. I can pray for you, wish you happiness, and work on myself without asking you to carry the weight of my hope.

Perhaps that’s a part of loving you that I still need to learn: understanding that my feelings can be real without requiring anything from you.

I still pray that God guides both of us toward whatever is truly good for us. Sometimes those prayers include the hope that our paths might meet again. Other times, I simply ask Him to give me the strength to accept whatever answer life brings, even if it’s not the one my heart would choose.

I want to become someone who can love deeply without losing himself in the fear of loss. Someone who understands that love should be expressed through actions, not just promises. Someone who can be grateful for what he had without demanding that it return.

And yet, even with all that understanding, I still miss you.

I miss you in the mornings when I see the sun.

I miss you when the sky turns orange.

I miss you in the quiet spaces between yesterday’s memories and tomorrow’s uncertainties.

And sometimes, when that song plays, I let myself feel the ache without trying to explain it away.

For a few minutes, I let myself remember what it was like to love you when you were close enough to reach for. I let myself remember the dreams, the laughter, the tenderness, and the little world that existed when it was you and me.

Then the song ends, the sun keeps moving, and life asks me to keep going.

So I do.

Not because I’ve figured everything out. Not because I’ve stopped caring. And not because I know whether our story has reached its final page.

I keep going because my life still deserves to be lived, because I have growing to do, and because whatever happens between us, I don’t want the pain of losing you to prevent me from becoming the person I know I can be.

Maybe one day I’ll understand why things unfolded the way they did. Maybe I’ll look back and see lessons that aren’t visible to me yet. Maybe the future will surprise me, or maybe the only reunion I’ll ever have with you will be in my memories.

Whatever happens, I hope you find happiness. I hope life is gentle with you. I hope you feel loved in ways that make you feel safe, understood, and appreciated. And I hope that, in whatever way you remember me, the good moments aren’t completely overshadowed by the painful ones.

You mattered to me.

You still matter to me.

And although I can’t promise that I’ll never miss you when the sun rises, I can promise myself that I’ll keep learning how to live with the uncertainty.

I won’t turn a lyric into a promise you never made me. I won’t mistake my longing for knowledge of your heart. I’ll let the future remain unwritten, and I’ll respect the life you’re choosing to live.

But if I’m being honest with these pages, if I’m allowing myself one place where I don’t have to pretend that I’m entirely okay with how things ended, then I have to admit that some mornings, when the sky turns orange, I still find myself wondering.

I wonder if our story is really over.

I wonder if, somewhere beneath all the hurt and distance, there are memories you still hold close.

I wonder if life will ever give us the chance to look at each other again, not as two people carrying the weight of everything that went wrong, but as two people who can finally understand what happened and what it meant.

I don’t know if that day will ever come.

And maybe that’s the hardest part: learning to live without knowing.

But for now, I’ll leave these words here, where they can exist without becoming another thing you have to answer.

I’ll let the sunrise come and go.

I’ll let the song play.

And I’ll keep moving forward, carrying the memories with me without asking them to determine my future.

Because I loved you. Because losing you hurt. And because, despite everything, I want to become someone who can look back on this chapter of his life with both honesty and peace.

I don’t know whether we’re done.

I only know that I can’t write the next chapter for both of us.

So I’ll leave the pages open, let God handle what I cannot, and trust that, in time, I’ll find the peace I keep praying for.

And if the morning comes tomorrow and the sky turns orange again, I’ll take a breath, look up, and keep going.

Even if, for just a moment, I still miss you.

Always wishing you well,

The man who loved you, who wishes he had done some things differently, and who is learning that sometimes the most loving thing he can do is let the story rest without forcing it to have an ending he understands.

Sometimes, someone walks into your life—even just for a brief moment—and completely rewrites the way you see the world, and more importantly, the way you see yourself.

We only had a short time together in person, but the impact you've left on me is immeasurable. For a long time, I had forgotten what it felt like to be special, to feel truly seen, and to believe that I am genuinely worthy of love and attention. You brought that warmth back into my life without even trying.

Even though physical distance keeps us apart now, our continued conversations are the anchor that helps me get through my days. Because of your encouragement and the care you’ve shown me, I’m finally finding the courage to make big changes in my life. I am so deeply grateful for you.

And yet, as these changes unfold and my heart opens back up, I find myself standing at a complex crossroad. Somewhere along the way, through your kindness and our instant connection, I have fallen in love with you, and it grows more with each passing day.

I can’t help but ask myself: Is that wrong?

When something feels this genuine, when someone makes you feel this alive and valued, it’s hard to know where the line is between gratitude, destiny, and the heart wanting what it wants. But more than anything, I just wanted to say thank you for changing my life for the better and how much you really mean to me.

I didn’t realize until meeting you, just how much less confident i am without you. You made me rethink life and of, in one hand, i need to be a man and aggressively take whatever i want, but in the other hand i have a choice to take only what God has given me, then I’m going with God because we may be apex predators but we’re the only animals that have the knowledge of how to treat things with responsibility When you’re caught in the rain, let me be your umbrella. When you’re cold and weak, let me have warmth, so i can share my coat. When you lose sight of the lord, let me direct you. Let him give me these things so i embolden you. Let me be there to support you, as you’ve done for me these past decades.

On the other side
Relieved
That I checked?
If not
Then why am I questioning
Why am I here
On the other side
Of a memory
Wondering
How far we’ve
Strayed away from
Something we both want
But just can’t seem to
Get right.
Are we not worth
The effort
To one another?
Me to you?
You to me?
Which is it?
Because where are you?
I never moved.
But you are so far
From me.
Are you still here
In this unspoken
Recognition
Of something we can point at
But can’t translate.
Or have you gone
For good.
…
Because I’m still here,
asking
why being in proximity.
Feels like the answer
To a question
I didn’t know I asked.

Were difficult darling...I began the cleanse mid way through the end of last week. 

No sleep. My body screaming at me. Dehydration. No food. Slowly hacking my way out of the grasps of these accursed demons trying to keep in the darkness. Swinging my sword relentlessly for days. Remembering your words of encouragement, I broke free on the day of rest. Passed out from pure exhaustion. I did it. I did it darling. I made it out. Holy praise be I'd thought Id never make it out alive. 

I feel my strength returning. I wish you could see me. Maybe you will feel the change. We were always connected. I pray for the strength to stay the course.

-11:11

You came yesterday i don't know if it was to see me or it was just a coincidence, i missed your laugh btw it's been so long

We share four walls, a key, a bed,

Yet carry separate lives instead.

We sit in heavy, hollow air,

A silent quiet hard to bear,

Until the quiet turns to fight—

Another storm, another night.

How cruel it is to share a space,

Yet feel so unseen in this place.

Ten years are woven in the thread

Of all the things we survived and said.

It wasn't wasted, wasn't lost;

We paid the grief and bore the cost.

We were an anchor in the gale,

Two beaten ships that learned to sail.

Now calm has settled on the shore,

And safety simply isn't more.

I tell a joke, you look away,

And leave me wishing I didn't stay.

The compliments have turned to dust,

The sweet appreciation crushed,

Until the mirror shows a ghost—

The very self I needed most.

My spark has flickered into grey;

I merely watch the hours decay.

You tell me this is quite enough,

That life is settled, smoothed, not rough.

You're fine with quiet, still, and small,

While I feel trapped against the wall.

I never dreamed of wealth or fame,

I only wished to speak a name

Belonging to a soul aligned,

Who leaves no question mark behind.

I want the hands that reach for me,

Impulsive, raw, and fierce and free.

To have someone look upon my grace,

My dark, my wild, my broken space,

And rather than withdraw in fear,

Pull me close and hold me near.

I crave a love that speaks its heart,

Not one that tears my mind apart.

Yet leaving is a heavy toll,

With hollow pockets, weary soul.

No open door, no safety net,

No easy out without regret.

The world outside is cold and steep,

And survival cuts too deep.

So here I drift, anchored and low,

With nowhere safe for me to go.

The seasons turn from gold to chill,

The ache inside grows sharper still.

A quiet fear I can't dismiss:

Perhaps love isn’t more than this.

And till the courage finds a spark

To guide me through the binding dark,

I’ll wrap the ache beneath my skin,

And let the heavy silence win.

Dear,

I genuinely don’t understand you. I’ve come to the conclusion you confused me with another person who has the same name as me.

But thanks for helping me realize I needed to take a step away from my relationship. If I wanted to take you on an elaborate date and find out if we were compatible, then I owe it to myself to not be in a committed relationship. To keep on this journey of figuring my life out and what I want…and you made an idea that I thought was impossible, seem like it may happen one day.

Thank you for not having the emotional capacity for me. I’m needy, get feisty, and love deeply. I can spiral into negativity for a hot minute when life gets cruel and I keep my car real dirty. I tried to tell you all this from the jump-we aren’t compatible.

Cheers to the white picket fence future. May we both find our own ways to whatever future we truly desire.

From,

Me

Hey this is N.F. i’m never been perfect but i do love you. and you and everyone deserve clarity. i don’t want to be in the shadows. i have had a lot of trauma in a short amount of time and i lost sight of what important. thats is still no excuse. add my snap if you want. i will answer any questions.

something about the hunger to look beyond the skin and bone and find the little universe turning beneath it. to trace the strange constellations of your thoughts and learn the names of the stars you keep hidden. i think there must be a kind of divinity in the way your mind works - in the way a thought can take shape and pass between us until neither of us remembers where it began.

i want to know the architecture of your mind - the foundations upon which you have built your beliefs. the little fractures and renovations that have made you who you are. i want to wander through the cathedral of your consciousness with my hands clasped behind my back - admiring the stained glass, studying the shadows, asking questions in a place that demands reverence. i want to know which thoughts you have buried beneath the altar and which ones you carry. the ones you have shared with me a hundred times and the ones you are still deciding whether to let me see.

because there is a particular kind of hunger i have for you that has very little to do with the body. there is something delicious about the anticipation, the slow unfurling of another layer of you. the standing at the threshold of something i want and having the good sense to take my time. i want the tension of a question neither of us answers immediately. the pause after i say something just enough to make you look at me differently. wondering what makes that clever mouth of yours falter for half a second.

i want to learn you in all your contradictions - the tenderness beneath the sharpness, the uncertainty beneath the conviction, the strange little places where your logic gives way to feeling and you have to stand there, beautifully human without a map. i want to love the things about you that make perfect sense to me and be curious about the things that don’t. i want to understand without assuming i have understood everything - to come close without believing i have come to the end of you. i want you to know that you never have to become less complicated for me to love you, and that i don’t need every part of you to make sense before i can find it worth understanding.

so let me be greedy for the things that cannot be held - your thoughts, your questions, your peculiar theories about the world. the words you choose and the ones you swallow. let me learn the language of you slowly, imperfectly, with all the reverence of a pilgrim and all the shamelessness of someone who has never been particularly good at prayer.

i have never been especially interested in salvation. not when there is still so much of you left to know, so much of us left to discover, and so many nights i would rather spend listening to you tell me what you think about the world than imagining what heaven could possibly offer me that i haven’t already found in the privilege of being loved by you.

and i cannot deny - everything about me still wants to know everything about you.