Rose Goodman

We chase each other around the city, learning about each other and laughing, your hands on my thigh and my fingers in your hair, and we stand on the platform at Islington and you pull me into you, and the entire world goes silent.

I am still here, waiting on you.

And it needs to stop.

Almost, almost but not quite or not yet, or maybe someday in the future, or maybe not at all.

Stay single until it feels easy, simple, like breathing.

We all need to be kinder to ourselves and know that the only validation that holds any real substance is the validation we give to ourselves.

I deserve to feel special.

Even now, when my mind wanders, it ends up back on that night of our first date. If I allow myself, I think of the way you looked at me when your eyes first fixed on my face, almost as if you couldn’t quite believe I was real, and it made me feel alive.

Anxiety can be fleeting, but it can also hang around for a couple of days, depending on the cause and the methods used to try and ease it. But it never lasts forever.

I will promise that I’ll remember this day forever, the day my person married the love of her life. Her McDreamy. I promise I’ll be smiling like a fool in all of your photos. I promise I’ll be by your side throughout it all.

Your expectations aren’t too high, he just can’t live up to them. 

You deserve to feel like there’s always more he wants to know about you. Like no amount of time with you will ever be enough for him.