A memory from years ago popped up on Facebook. I had a meltdown that day and decided to grab my journal and hit up the beach for some solitude, reflection, and writing. Inside of that black and white, houndstooth journal, was a small, blue, leather journal. That one was for you.

I am sure you saw the pictures. We were friends online back then. You’d have never guessed that everything in those pictures was you, you, you.

Maybe I’ll break it out this weekend and reflect on what I wrote.

There is no more giddiness. The flowers have died and the butterflies have gone away. But the memory of that time is still something I smile about. That day was the worst but even that day conjures up fond, nostalgic feelings.

I can still taste the salt in my mouth.

I miss that a little bit more than a lot.

But I don’t miss you.

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  • anonymous lover
11 days ago

Oh, I wrote a lot of things about her. At the beach and other places. But we were never a thing. So fuck it.

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