I keep wanting to rewrite that headline. I want a different sentence. I ask myself, “Is this for traffic? Is this for clicks?” I think about you in the crowd shaking your head. I see you, front row, questioning all of this.
“Is this just for your brand?”
And it never is. Or at least, not when it’s about you. And my heart. And its desire to call you home.
Do you know how hard I try to silence it? Do you know the willpower it takes to keep such a powerful organ silent for four years? I don’t have it, clearly.
This has never been about my job.
This has always been about us and how nothing has felt right since.
At 18, they said I was too young to call it love.
At a month shy of 25, love has become a foreign word.
It lost its meaning when I stopped tasting your tongue.
Without you in my life, love is not something I recognize anymore.