Hearing him say my name stabbed me in the gut, I was caught unawares, my mind was elsewhere and I had forgotten, it all came flooding back. Late night conversations, falling asleep mid-sentence. That first night in his new apartment and he asked you to stay. That night on the stairs when he cried and you said all the wrong things, you never recovered from that. It's so many years ago but my heart grew just as heavy now at the loss.
I spend the day reading old letters to myself. Fourteen years of words, of inspiration and chastisement, I laugh at the melodramatic girl I once was but just as often get swept up in her message. That life is now, the time is now, that you have it in you to go, be mad, and live. That I love nothing more than a good adventure, making friends of strangers, running wildly through the nights and ending up laughing in unknown waters.
It occurs to me that I have wasted the entire past year. That my life in Stockholm is no life, that I grow old before my time, that I have resigned myself to the simple stream. I hate to admit such squandering, but it can be ignored no longer. I must make up for it two-fold.
The days to come must be amazing.
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