And, my god, I hope you’re happy. I hope you make it big one day. I hope you find someone who loves you so much that it flows like a river out of you, and they never leave you feeling empty.

It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you.

“Can you stay friends with an ex?” she asks. By this she means, can you forget the nights when your head was on his stomach and his hands were in your hair and you swore you would never let each other go? Or, maybe, more importantly, can you remember but still let go? “Maybe,” I tell her. By this, I mean, maybe - if you’re over him and he’s over you. By this, at least, I mean: can you remember and not want it back? Can you remember and not feel sad?

How odd, I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.

And if I seem a little strange Well, that’s because I am.