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2023 recap!!!
jan: forgot
feb: forgot
march: forgot
april: forgot
may: forgot
june: forgot
july: forgot
aug: forgot
sep: forgot
oct: forgot
nov: forgot
dec: forgot
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Okay. Come on, then. I love you, get up, we are going to keep going. Repeat this to yourself in a mirror or in a whisper or in the shower or in a shout. I love you, get up, keep going.
I am tired too. It's okay. We will sleep in the car ride over. We will sleep on each other's shoulders. We will sleep upside down and in the laps of new friends and on the bellies of our lovers and in the hands of better tomorrows. We will sleep and we will wake up rested and we will wake up happy and we will wake up home again.
I love you, get up. It's time to write "maybe next time" on our gravesite. It's time to write: it could not kill me, I would not die. It's time to write a love letter to the sun and our one-act play and the history of our keychains. It is time to write a future where despite everything, we are finally warm and safe.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Get up. Keep going. We are going to be okay.
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"But it is a lonely thing, to be forgotten. To remember when no one else does.
I remember, whispers the darkness, almost kindly, as if he’s not the one who cursed her."
V.E. Schwab, The Invisible Life Of Addie LaRue.
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“That night it did not rain as much in the sky as it did in his heart.”
— Faraaz Kazi, Truly, Madly, Deeply
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