I admit that I have snapped.

I sang today.

Being yourself, and expressing yourself regardless and no matter who is around you, is courage.

I told him as many ways as I could, but there is no point in elaboration. He’s not coming and this fantasy can die peacefully.

I don’t miss us from 2019. I miss us 20 to 19 years from now: a time period that has yet existed. We’ll never be, but I dream.

I haven’t hit the last stage of grief, but I will.


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