I think about the things we “need” as human beings a lot for someone who pretends to be chill and nonchalant.
I wish I could write something poetic about us.
Take chances. Believe that things can work out. Even if they don’t, at least you tried.
I don’t consider my life poetic but if I did, this would be the opening stanza.
We both had to get new sheets after that summer because they were all stained with fruit juice, wine, sweat, and summer could’ve/would’ve/should’ves.
If you can’t handle the truth, you can’t handle me.
It’s not something you could ever swallow, is it?
Because you have a dog who has so much life left to be lived.
You deserve to forgive yourself for the things you got wrong.
When you’re complicit in allowing toxicity to continue, you’re just as bad as the person shrugging their shoulders and saying, “Welp guess another line got blurred!”