She’d kill me if she knew I was telling you this.
She’s beautiful. Smart. Down to earth in a way that pulls me up out of the rabbit hole. She listens. She challenges. She’s got this massive chip on her shoulder you wouldn’t even notice through the humor, the smile, the ease of her conversations.
She’s also hurt. Hopeful. Naive? I feel like I’m on an Acela train surging through the last few months. How are we back here?
The break up of Dry January and the break up of her heart. The unraveling of her family and the unraveling of her. The crying, the yelling, the carrying from cabs. The selfishness and the not telling her. I wish I could shake her and shout, “Do you even realize?! Do you even understand that you are better than this pain? Do you even notice that everyone who deserves your love is right here in front of you, begging for you step off of this train and hop the one to your bright future?”
If she knew, dear reader, would she step off, or would she sadly wave as this world passed her by, a blur through the glass?