My mom taught me one thing:
You don’t always have to tell people you love them. You just have to give them no reason to doubt it.
I love you in a language that I don’t fully understand. In words that I haven’t found enough courage to forklift out of my chest.
It’s so strange to have not known someone for very long, but to miss them as if you have known them for a thousand life times.
When you are attracted to people, it’s because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most.
I don’t often post personal posts on tumblr, least of all posts this personal, but there is something cathartic about writing for people I will never see and right now I will try anything to come out of this feeling whole, so here goes.
A week from today, someone I care very deeply about is moving to Europe. He’s nervous but it’s something he’s always wanted to do, and when someone has a strong ambition, you are happy for them when they achieve it. Even though it means that we will no longer be together, in every sense of the word. It means I can’t crash at his place after a draining day, and feel better just because he is beside me. It means he’ll no longer say, “Come here,” and hug me for no reason at all. I can’t laugh at his uncannily accurate Darth Siddious accent late into the night. He won’t play me the songs he’s working on, and I won’t message him about all the funny things that happen during my day.
Two weeks ago, when we decided long distance wasn’t for us, I cried and didn’t know how I could stop. One of the things I hated most was the idea that he would refer to me as his “ex-girlfriend” and I’d be nothing but a passing chapter in his life. Even now, I dread having to refer to him as my “ex-boyfriend” because the “ex” reduces him to something he no longer is. It doesn’t even begin to define everything he continues to be for me. I still refer to my former housemates as my “housemates” because “ex-housemate” is too brutal to hear and the label “friend” doesn’t fully explain the relationship between us. A housemate is someone you doze with in front of the TV, unashamedly on a Friday night. When you hear them boiling the kettle in the kitchen at 11pm, you join them because you know they’ve put tea on for you too. You share your lives in a thousand tiny ways every day and slapping an “ex” in front of the word looks like you’re erasing all of that history. So he’s not my ex-boyfriend, and he’s not my boyfriend, but maybe, in spite of everything that lies between us, we can come out of this as friends.
I turn 24 the day after he leaves. Writing that out makes me look a lot older than I feel. When you’re younger you think that when you’re 24 you have it all figured out. You’re an adult. But I’m back at home after living out of home for years. I work full-time, at two part-time jobs, one of which is an unpaid internship. It’s easy to get lost in uncertainty about my future; it’s a dark pit that can take days, even months to crawl out of. My goal for my birthday is to wake up feeling good about everything I’ve achieved. It is to feel grateful that I had him for as long as I did, and to understand that I’m 24 and this year I will set myself up for achieving everything I want out of life.
"When he was dying, I said: ‘Moe, how am I going to live without you?’ He answered: ‘Take the love you have for me, and spread it around."
Anyone can slay a dragon, he told me, but try waking up every morning & loving the world all over again. That’s what takes a real hero.
She wanted a smile that was meant only for her.