It’s interesting how dichotomous my brain still is at times. I wouldn’t ever want to get back together with her, but a part of me still longs for those days. I guess this is letting go.

 

Not my words, but this is pretty much everything:

I still miss you, but not like I did before. The intense aching I felt isn’t there anymore. I still whisper your name, though not as often as I used to. Now it may be once before the day is through. I still hear your voice replaying in my mind, but it’s fading now. Soon, silence I will find. I still long for you, to feel your touch, but it’s not like before. I don’t dream it as much. I still think about you and wonder how you are, but my feelings have changed and they don’t go as far. I still feel you sometimes. Maybe you’re thinking of me or maybe it’s just a little memory of how it used to be. I still love you but it’s just not as strong because I’m letting you go now, so we can both move on. You still have a piece of my heart because I always feel you here. Now I’m hoping and praying that that, too, will quickly disappear. This will be my last goodbye, I’ve nothing else to say. Everything I felt for you can now just fade away.

Signs you’re a keeper: being in a relationship and giving strange dudes your number

Couldn’t make this shit up, honestly. It’s been nice having another girl in my head for a while. Almost like they’re replaceable.

 

“That is my principal objection to life, I think: It is too easy, when alive, to make perfectly horrible mistakes.” -Vonnegut, “Deadeye Dick”

This whole album is pretty brilliant, honestly. I could go getting introspective about this song, but there’s no point. It is what it is. That’s life. At least there’s a new girl on the horizon to have splitting rent in my head.

Also, firstworldproblems over here, but I think it’s neat how we create our own bullshit in lieu of having any actual problems in life, like access to food and clean water, or not being able to pay rent. I mean, real talk: I’m a fucking asshole who drinks good ass coffee on the regular, reads awesome books, drives a fucking convertible sports car, and is set to graduate pharmacy school in a year with a $100+k salary out the gate. Woe is me, forrealz.

Sure, being in touch with emotional issues and getting existential once in a while isn’t necessarily bad, and certainly a side effect of being well read and not being a shit chucking ape, like most garden variety idiots walking around oblivious to everything. But I think it’s important to actually weigh things with respect to the actual universe and realize that my bullshit is about as far from the word significant as Voyager I is from Earth (spoiler: Voyager I is about 11.3 billion miles from Earth).

Also: Though satire, I enjoyed the fuck out of this story.

I just had a memory come to mind that I hadn’t thought of in months. I remembered holding your hand on the deck of the ship the morning we had docked in Victoria. We stood at the railing, overlooking the city. I don’t think we said much. And then we ran through the hall, you clutching me from behind. An old couple made a comment about us as we passed, “They know where they’re going.” Things were so nice. I wonder what I did to have life treat me so well then.