I always had you to think about whenever I felt like writing about something beautiful.
I don’t know why it feels so wrong to have finally outgrown that habit.
And now I couldn’t write without wanting to sound so bitter or nostalgic, or both. I’ve been praying hard about this feeling, about getting over the sleepless nights thinking about our what-if’s, about having the courage to finally let our plans go and see how far we’ll wander as we grow apart.
I don’t know if this is the answer to my prayer or just the comforting feeling of making it without you. Or both.