Happy Birthday to me! I’m an old lady now. I’m celebrating in Florence tonight so I feel pretty good.
Terrible dream about me visiting him with my parents and then seeing there’s someone else so he ignored me totally. it was the weirdest fucking dream and I hate that now I’m thinking about him even when I’m sleeping.
i haven’t been able to write for three weeks, or something like that. ugh.
it is shaping up to be such a kierkegaard summer. like. fuck all y’all but I’m going to be reading sickness unto death because that is my fucking mood. I AM SO GRUMPY AND ONLY BEAUTIFUL DEAD SWEDISH DUDES FEEL ME
(ok and maybe I’ll read some goethe bc young werther man)
I would really like to hear from you and I’m not certain I will. I hate this sort of uncertainty. I need to take some space from you, I suppose, though I don’t want to.
I have not missed someone the way this missing is missing you. Not before, and it feels strange. I want to be with you and speak to you and I keep thinking of things to say to you and jokes to tell you or what we might be doing. The other one, the boy before, I performed for him and I did so fearfully and anxiously. Everything done was to demonstrate and exhibit. For you, I am me. And I like being with you.
That’s all this whole thing comes down to. I like being with you. I do. I like you.