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My forever mood: writing is hard.
I really like him. I like Mikey’s face and his voice and his weird nerdy brain, and there are times when I find him so endearing I almost can’t stand it. And we’re so good together. We barely fight. Yeah, he’s been a little moody about New York, but I know we’ll work through that. We always work through stuff. Because we’re mature grown-ups in a mature grown-up relationship, and everything’s good and chill and solid. And I’m happy.
you never really feel yourself changing until it’s already happened.
People don’t warn you that heartbreak is a chronic condition. Maybe it quiets down a little over time, or you can muffle it with distance, but the ache never quite dials down to zero.
He kisses my temple. “Remind me why this took us so long.” “Because we’re dumbasses who can’t see what’s right in front of us?”
“What’s wild is that you knew,” he says suddenly. “From day one.” “I knew we’d make out behind my place of employment?” “You knew the universe wasn’t an asshole.” “Oh, no kidding. You know what day it is, right?” “Thursday? July—” He stops short. “Holy shit.” “To the day. You can’t tell me that’s not the universe.” “The fucking universe. Wow.” He lets out a laugh, short and breathless. I smile up at him smugly. “Guess we saw how it played out.” “We were a basic-bitch love story all along.”