💌 the love letter

Authors note: I’ve realized recently that I might be getting a little predictable here 😅. So here's something that's a little bit lighter, just to be different for a momentPS, if you’ve made it this far into the year with your heart still open in any way at all, I’m glad you’re here. Happy New Year 🤍 **********The Love Letter I don’t know how to write this without sounding ridiculous.But I also don’t know how to stop thinking about you, so here we are.It’s absurd, how much space you take up.You’re in everything now.In my good mornings. In my silences. In the parts of me I didn’t even know existed until I started measuring them by how close or far they are from you.I’ve tried pretending this is nothing.That the way I light up when I hear your name is just a habit. That it doesn’t ruin my day when someone wears your perfume or laughs like you or says something with that exact rhythm you use when you’re tired or letting your guard down— and it’s not really you.I can’t keep doing this.I see you everywhere.And I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever stop.I say your name in conversations that have nothing to do with you.I look for your face in crowds that have no business containing you.You live in my mouth, in my bones, in every room I walk into— like you’re haunting me while still very much alive.You’re in every almost.Every sentence I can’t finish.Every breath I hold before I speak because I’m trying so hard not to mention you.And I hate it. I hate that I can’t evict you from my head.That no one else feels right anymore, not even close.I go on dates and feel nothing.I laugh and it feels forced.I meet other people and spend the entire time trying to ignore how wrong it feels.I’ve rewritten this a dozen times.Each version less poetic than the last.Each one trying to make this sound like a maybe.Like maybe I’m losing my mind.Maybe this is just a phase.Maybe I’ll regret this.But I won’t.At least…I hope I don't.Because I’ve never wanted anything the way I want this to mean something to you.And it terrifies me, how much of myself I’ve handed over just by writing this.I don’t know what you’re supposed to do with that.I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.But if you do—If there’s even the smallest part of you that wants this…Then come find me.I’m already yours.

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