he looks so pleased
"oh look. look at this apple. it me"
horf horf horf
To my sweet daughter,
If you ever begin to wonder if he is the one, ask yourself:
Does his laughter warm your body from the inside out? He knows that when you say two scoops you really mean three, right? Do you dance in his living room while drinking cheap wine? I hope so, and I hope you’re both drunk and terrible and laughing so hard you cry. Does he tell you how beautiful you are, and if yes, does he say it when the morning light falls upon your face? More importantly, when he tells you, do you believe him? Can you cry in front of him? I hope you can, that means you trust him. When it’s pouring rain does he know that if your hair is curled or your eyes are sad that means he should get the car and bring it to you? When he asks what you want for dinner and you say you aren’t hungry, does he ask if you’ve eaten today? And when you say you had breakfast, I hope he knows you don’t eat breakfast, and makes you a bowl of rice, because that’s your favorite comfort food. Does he kiss you good morning? Good night? Just because? Do you know he likes his coffee black? Unless he wants it cooled, then he will probably want some milk in it, but not too much. Do you know when he prefers tea to coffee? I never quite figured that out with your father, so if you have, you’re a better woman than I. Have you figured out where he’s ticklish? Don’t let him convince you he’s not, I promise you he is. Have you frustrated the hell out of him yet? You will, oh you will, but it’s how you two come out of it that matters. And when he said he loved you for the very first time, did you respond by asking if he’s afraid of heights? I hope with my entire soul that he said yes because that means, despite his fear, he fell for you. Now, darling, you tell me, is he the one?
Maybe you can afford to wait. Maybe for you there’s a tomorrow. Maybe for you there’s one thousand tomorrows, or three thousand, or ten, so much time you can bathe in it, roll around it, let it slide like coins through you fingers. So much time you can waste it.
But for some of us there’s only today. And the truth is, you never really know.
you know what’s fucked up?
that you can be without someone for six months, a year, five years and have mastered not thinking about them, but no matter how much time passes there will always be that moment where you see a photo of them or catch a little of their cologne on a crowed street and suddenly you’re plagued with a rapidly sinking stomach and the relentless question, “what did i do wrong?”