The morning after

Today has been long and it’s only 10:15 am.

My heart feels like it’s been stretched out. It’s full but tired – as if it’s been running.

How fantastic it was being with you in your space again, sharing kisses and little smiles, smelling your sheets.

It’s always been so easy to lean against you, but this time it feels different.

As though I am heavier,

but brighter.

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Things that keep me from sleeping

I wonder if you ever noticed that I chew on my toothbrush until the bristles stick out sideways. Or if you ever saw me drooling while I was sleeping.

I wonder if you remember the day I took those pills and didn’t answer my phone and you were so worried. Or the time my anxiety was out of control in Trader Joe’s and I hadn’t taken my Lexapro and you had to talk me off my ledge.

I wonder if you remember the way my hair smells or the way I clean countertops or the way my legs feel tangled with yours.

I can’t wait to see you.

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*insert heart emoji*

Happiness has been on my mind almost constantly lately. How it looks different for every person but has this very general label we all are chasing. The pursuit of happiness. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all a facade. Actually the past two years or so I was almost completely convinced that it doesn’t exist for anyone; we all just fake it to each other and ourselves and some people are better at it than others. But I knew a chick in high school that I was mean to because I envied her persistent, authentic happiness. It drove me crazy. (Sorry Hydie)

For some people it’s being able to travel, for some it’s dancing in a club, for some it’s being a parent. For some people it looks like a deep connection to their faith. For some people it looks like having a lot of followers, or a lot of shit. Material things. For some people it’s having a lot of sex, or food, or drugs. For me, it’s a lot of love.

Someone once said that they believed I am the kind of person who will always be in love. I at first was kind of taken aback because I’ve always considered myself to be a fairly independent person, but I realized soon that they were right. I’m a romantic, and a depressive one at that. Love is the best thing I have ever felt. A real true connection with someone is so fucking rare and I have had it in my life and it is the most wonderful. ¬†For me it’s completely consuming.

But you can’t chase love. You can’t just make it happen, it does not come easy, it will not give way to force or pressure. It either exists, or it does not.

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