I wouldn’t need a reason, you know that, right? I don’t have one now either. I’m just, it’s been two years, and you are still the only person…yeah, I won’t say that out loud. I was thinking the other day about our imaginary life in new york—the one you didn’t know anything about, because we never actually talked about it, because I was afraid we’d break up. We did. Anyway, there is no loft; there is no kitchen island; no yellow flowers; no collections of fine wines; no burnt pancakes on Sundays; no sex on the windowsill. Everything is gone. I will never go to new york; I don’t want to go to new york anymore. fuck new york.

It wouldn’t be love—just a yoga studio around the corner; I’d eventually find a bookstore owned by a tiny woman; some random barista named Jil would get my order right EVERY SINGLE TIME. I wouldn’t adopt a dog, but I’d have a little kitten. It won’t have a name. It would wake me up at night. I’d share it casually: “Last night, it snuggled down in ITS sleep next to me”. I can’t let go. You had the largest smile. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable. I probably made you uncomfortable, that’s why. I was wrong, yk, I was so wrong. I should have said something; I should have sent you the letters, and I did. I did send you the letters, didn’t I? All 45. You read them all.

Please do not answer. Please never answer. It’s a moment of weakness. Tomorrow I’ll be fine. I am just sleep-deprived. I am just tired. So very tired. I am just lonely. I’ll find someone on Tinder. I’ll take a shower. Put some clean clothes on. My long-sleeve shirt…the green one, yes, I should burn it or something…no, it’s not the smell; I have a washer, yk, it’s just…it’s been a heavy day, such a weird day…I almost…no, I promised! I wouldn’t dare…not again…and I know, I know…you are probably dating someone or something, you are probably busy or something, you are probably over or something…My voice is not shaking. I wouldn’t need a reason, you know that, right? Next week it’s my birthday, but you know)

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