happy nineteenth.
I haven’t been blogging at all, but this is the least I can do. I don’t want to forget the trials and steps it took for me to get where I am.To where we are, where we can go, where we will be.
Hey Cookie,
Thank you for the last two weeks, it was like a dream, living with you. I loved coming home to a warm bed with a sleepy head (that rhymed). Having you cook dinner and taking long naps. The dinner on Tuesday? It tasted like shit - I am never buying heart healthy tomato sauce again. And hot dogs got nothing on sausages! You should have paid more attention to Horton Hears a Who, but maybe my Christmas lights triggered your ADD. Haha, I’m just kidding. It was a slow, whatever anniversary. But it was our last one together, so I supposed it deserves a post.
Those people I sympathized with for having long distance relationships? Yeah, it fucking sucks dick. You might think five months isn’t so bad, but the eight months after might just kill me. Everyday feels increasingly longer, but I might be delusional. I guess this will be the first of many letters. And when I go to Japan, the first of many boxes of letters. Have fun in Santa Barbara, babe. Work hard and get to where you want to go. I want to do the same.
Although I’m glad I got to spend the last night with you in your bed, I really didn’t want to drive down with your family. I didn’t want to leave that room with so much history. All our fights, our tears, our make-ups. All our memories. I hope they stay there, so we can go back. I’m sorry I got you sick, you sniffled so much in the car. That walk back to your parents Saturday felt like the shortest half an hour ever. The car ride felt three times as long and my phone’s battery died five times as fast. The dinner we ate was good, the lava cake bittersweet. Don’t worry, I didn’t cry in front of them. I haven’t cried.
Not yet.
I hope I can hold you soon, my arms feel a little cold.