“Such a simple question, such a complicated request — please, know me.”
I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I was going to pack the clothes, and the books, and the journals, and the letters. And this time, it would work.
Okay. Before I (officially) begin: I love you.
When is the best time to fix my roof? When the sun is out, and I can muster up the courage to say that my life is worth something.
I think about how I told my friend at lunch today, I don’t say I love you enough, but I’ll do better.