We reminisce over the good times, never the bad.
A version that ends with you getting down on one knee.
And us moving into the suburbs.
A white picket fence life.
We’re so focused on the journey, never the destination. We blow our paychecks on shots and Instagram worthy restaurants.
He’s always there in the morning. After every fight. After every stumbling moment.
You’ll see it as she frantically re-reads a work email sent, double checking. Triple checking.
Here’s to the girls feeling so damn alone wondering when it’s their turn.
I thought I’d have more figured out. I think we all did.
You’ll feel your heart racing. Your pulse so high. You’re convinced you might be dying from a heart attack.
We said goodbye. Except, we never really said goodbye. We just stopped talking.
But, I’m no longer broken. Baby, I’m whole.
…Except I don’t know how to be whole.