You now blame me for the reasons you were unhappy, that I did not do a good job of making life easier on you or making you happier; but I was not the reason for your unhappiness – that came first.
Staying in on weekends. If Saturday night were the Starship Enterprise, you’d be Jean-Luc Picard laughing all the way to the captain’s chair, sipping earl grey tea and knitting scarves out of squirrel tail hair you repurposed into yarn to give to people next Christmas.
I’ve realized it’s not time that heals us. It’s change.
We need to take time alone. We need it as much as we need to eat, drink, or sleep. It allows all of your layers to unfold and connect to your true and deep self. Fifteen minutes a day, sit with yourself. Through daily practice you will hear the chatter in your head start to get quieter and your inner voice and intuition get louder.
I was 18 when I thought I was in love.
As much as I hate this disease, and who you are when you’re high, and the amount of pain you’ve caused our family – is nothing in comparison to the pain we would feel if we lost you.
I have accepted my odd quirks that started as symptoms but became part of my personality.
One day he won’t look at you the way he used to; the daily good morning/night texts will become weekly, and his effort to keep you happy will cease to exist.
Here I am, in a bar on November 9th, with a man who voted for Hillary Clinton, who was just as shocked and offended by Trump, and who is putting his hands on me without asking, kissing me, who doesn’t wait, who thinks he can do anything.
I would be a fool to say I wasn’t in love you. With you, I felt like love showed me a face. It was passionate, it was crazy. It felt real, it was painful.