I think one of the strengths of getting to live is to be able to love things in this world. It’s a weird thing to be saying this while confronted with the cost of such thing, but it still feels right to say. I really don’t know what else is more human than to love so willingly.

And this doesn’t need to be to other humans in the conventional sense. I have fallen in love with the soft and slow opening of a hihat, because of how it makes a song swell and carries it to a place through that vulnerability.

I’ve fallen in love with the sunlight on the nape of my neck. I couldn’t tell you a specific memory for it, but it’s something I’ve carved into myself – how the universe comes full circle to remind me about how the same warmth that came from a small space heater on the floor in a locked room exists everywhere. It’s a silent voice gently asking me if I can recognize the feeling, softly leading me out of depression. It’s love in the way I yearn for, and so patiently waiting for me when I forget.

I’ve fallen in love with the lessons that cause me so much pain. All of the places I see that remind me of the love I shared with E push on the wounds that have started to close up. They don’t push hard enough to reinjure me, but enough for it to hurt. That pain serves as a reminder to be proud of – how I went through something that was necessary and that present me is so thankful for. It’s a trophy given for doing something present me could not ask past me to go through, as I wouldn’t want to go through that again. But past me did go through it and the lessons I’ve learned unlock the life I’ve dreamed of. And I get to continue to carry the love for them with me, I can be proud and also happy thinking back to a Barnes and nobles where I got to show her how much I loved her and how I would be there for her. I’m proud of how I supported her, and I’m even more proud of the fact that I not ONCE had any thoughts of complaints, or anything but love and concern while sitting in that hospital room for hours. The only thing I cared about was protecting her however I could, and I’m grateful that I am that person.

I’ve fallen in love with the extremely loud and undignified laugh that I used to cringe at. I’ve gone from suppressing myself or avoiding hearing it to cherishing it now, and I don’t think that’s a small feat at all.

I’ve fallen in love with the office buildings down the street by the road, because as I walk and look at them, with enough flexibility they remind me of Minecraft servers I’ve built up with friends. Little towns with each their own stories and memories tied to them tucked away in my mind, waiting for a random screenshot or reminder to surface them again.

I’ve fallen in love with the concept of someone putting in so much care, love, thought, soul and life into something that has no promises of return. It’s such a beautiful bid for connection that I root for.

I’ve fallen in love with all of the endless things I could devote my life to and not fully explore. I get to see and experience so much in this world and I would never be able to go through it all. And is that not such a beautiful thing?

To my original question I don’t know what to do with all of this love that I’ve cultivated inside of me other than to hold onto it dearly with gentle hands.

I will say however afterwards I kind of got hit by a combo attack of small little grief waves. Attack on Titan with something I started re-watching finally because I was watching it with E. And I thought about how cool of an experience it would’ve been for her to watch the movie. One of the things we talked about while breaking up was that she didn’t know what episode we were on and that was one of the things I told her over text. The movie theater we were at was also one in the same complex with the Barnes & Noble‘s that we had a date at, where she then had a scare about her vision and so I rushed her to her specialist doctor and waited with her for four hours keeping her spirits up and calming her down. throughout the whole process I kept her mom constantly updated, and wrote down notes that the doctors said. I remember a month or two after our break up in my phone I saw the contact saved for her specialist and I deleted it. While driving out of the complex I saw Pick Up Stix, which became her favorite food place according to her, and we would go there and get a big plate to share together. I remember one time after a fight we went there and she apologized after I had de-escalated everything. We got fortune cookies and the fortune that I got was you will find great success in romance, and I took a picture of her with that cookie. I remember sending that photo to her mom, and at Christmas time I got a custom ornament with that photo. She loved it so much and I loved it even more. I remember thinking about how every year we would be able to have a new ornament together. And finally while driving away I passed our food place, where we would go together get Chinese food and then watch a video together on my phone. That’s where we watched several attack on Titan episodes. And we would cuddle up together in the little booth. And I didn’t really have the heart to go back there since then.

It didn’t help that I was leaving the theater after having cried a little bit and trying to push myself to be in that headspace, but it didn’t actually hurt me that much. I still remember her face but I don’t really remember super well the other parts which does help. I don’t want to really remember either. And it does hurt, but like a dull aching pain that could quickly be ignored. And I hope that it’s been long enough that these grief progress bars have been mostly filled up already.

Honestly the biggest thing that I feel is guilt for thinking so much about wanting to date again, and being open to that – while I’m still getting some of the glitter out of my mind. But I try to be kind to myself and remind myself that little pieces of that glitter are always going to be there, and it’s not like I’m necessarily missing her or that I would want to reach back out or anything like that. But it’s more just acknowledging the lack of what was once good memories. And that’s completely OK that’s part of the process of grief.

I remember the first day I met the friend I still play games with weekly almost a decade later. It was in a normal game of League of Legends, and the person he was playing with was chatting back with me and my friend. He sent a friend request and have politeness I accepted it, even though I didn’t really like him. One of the happiest memories I have in my life was shared with him in a karaoke bar in Japan last year. He’s one of my closest friends.

In elementary school with my friends at lunch we would jump around the grass fields and role-play being Pokémon trainers. One of the earliest memories I have was in first grade writing a full page for an assignment about how I dreamed of turning into a Charizard and flying to school.

Sometime around second grade, I had a dream where I flew by using pieces of paper on my hands as wings. I was so excited for recess, and I ran as hard as I could and I was not able to fly. If I’m being completely honest, a part of me still does believe that if I was to go now with two pieces of paper, all I would need to do is just run hard enough and flap with enough conviction, because I remember the feeling of the wind lifting me up.

I say these things because someone asked me what my earliest memory was, and the thing that came to mind was the first time thoughts of suicide came to me, even though I didn’t even know what suicide was. It presented itself in a bottle of some sort of chemical I was told by my sister would kill me if I drank it. And I remember how much I wanted to drink it, not because I wanted to get away from anything, but just because I thought it would be nice to die.

Depression robbed so many memories from me, and it continues to steal whenever it encroaches past the small closet it’s allowed to call home in my mind. A consequence of this is when I look back at my childhood all I remember is the suicide attempt, the plans, and washed memories of numbness, with the only exceptions being things I clutch onto as justifications for why I am the way I am. I desperately paint back in the memories of summers trapped in my room, or the places where the neglect was apparent. If I don’t preserve these memories, I may lose them along with everything else from my childhood, except these are the receipts to prove that I am hurt. But there’s no store for me to return these to, no way to get any value back from them aside from at most, acknowledgment they existed. And I wonder why I do not hold onto the happy memories the same way.

Whenever I look back at childhood I’m free from nostalgia because I only remember the tragedies, but if I hold the earlier memories I mentioned with the same hand, I’m left with a sweeter picture that makes it a little bit harder to leave. And I do have to leave it, because I cannot ever go back, but maybe it is a kinder thing if I was to carry something worth missing.

I also remember today when I was I think driving to work or driving home, I thought about what happened with E. I don’t think about her often nowadays if ever, but I remembered how I had this big project that I was responsible for that was due on Friday the day before Valentine’s Day, and also two days before Hash’s birthday. And on that Thursday was when she came to my house unannounced with three other people and broke up with me and refused to listen and went through my house taking stuff. That was also with her recording me against my knowledge, ambushing me and having her roommate ganging up on me and saying things about how I wanted to fuck with my house, steal things, and even steal my dog. We had to call her mom to get her to calm down and listen to reason and finally leave. I had to miss an important work meeting because they wouldn’t listen and also because there’s just no way that I could have that meeting while I’m crying and my dog is desperately trying to go and see her. This was something that a week later when we talked she apologized for and said that she had no clue how she could make it up to me. A big reason why she wanted to break up was because she felt like she kept fucking up and at least from my point of view that’s such a fucking shitty situation to be in, where she is upset and feels horrible about all of the shitty things that she consistently did throughout the relationship, and how I didn’t do things like that to her. And because of that she does something exceptionally shitty. I felt so unsafe for so long, and even now I feel kind of unsafe thinking about how powerless I was and how I was ganged up on in my own house. But it’s also insane with how that sabotage to my work and I think that’s a line that is not OK to cross especially because she was like going through a mental episode or something where she just couldn’t control herself. These were all things that she apologized sweetly for after we took a week long break, but it only took two days for the cracks to show where she didn’t regret that I was recorded crying and vulnerable without me knowing. And that’s just not at all fair to me. And I am grateful that I eventually learned my lesson and stopped giving more chances and broke up. One of my coworkers and friends let me know that he had broken up on good terms with his partner of 10 years. They lived down the street from me in a house together, and he said that they were both moving out and they were going to rent it. And I’m glad that it was on good terms but I also think that is so incredibly devastating to break up after 10 years. I’m really grateful that my relationship only lasted five months and that it didn’t go on longer because we might’ve gotten married, and might’ve even had kids at some point. And I don’t know if I would be able to really forgive myself if I had kids and by then she hadn’t changed and was emotionally unstable around children, because that is irresponsible of me to put a kid into that situation in the first place. And I think also the fact that I wanted to be in that relationship for a long time is assigned that there are also stuff that I need to mature about and learn. And I would like to think that I at least learned my lesson from this relationship, and hopefully this is the last one of the big growing pain lessons, at least in the sense of something that needs action or change. But I do digress, the thing I wanted to kind of journal about and get on writing was explicitly how what happened was not OK and it was not fair to me. Those things are never OK, and I’m really sorry that that happened. But at the same time I needed that to happen because otherwise I would not have left. And it is a much worse situation if I stay because it does not hit that point of nuclear, where I have to leave. I would never do something like that to a partner, and so I should not just accept the fact that a partner would do that to me.

But at the same time she is fun to talk to, and also is pretty well established with a job and her own friend group. We do have some similar interests like certain kind of games, and the gym. She also does give off a lot of that tomboyish energy that I like, where she is competitive for stupid things.

I keep thinking about this one reel that I saw, a woman was at a restaurant and the menu only had fries. She ordered the fries, and then notices another patron had a really nice plate of pasta. When she asked the patron how she got that it’s as simple as just asking for it. When she mentions that pasta is not on the menu, the other patron says that they’re simply is no menu and what you ask for you will get. It’s just a question about knowing what you can expect. An additionally when she orders the pasta she gets fries. She has to then wait and send the fries back. Then she gets her pasta right before she starts to eat it, it turns into fries. She has to again send it back until finally she gets the pasta that she wanted.

I feel like this is almost a test from the universe, seeing if I am willing to say no and wait a little bit more for someone that I truly fall in love with. The universe has been kind to me by making it explicitly hard logistically, but also by illustrating that it’s not going to be super clear answers of someone who says that they refuse to have kids, or that they live hundreds of miles away. Often these things happen in these gray in between. And I guess in journaling here I feel like the answer is clear to me. I guess now the question is how to make sure I’m not leading someone on even though we haven’t explicitly showed interest.

I guess when I think about it a little bit more, if I visualize the person that I want to spend my life with, it’s someone who looks at me and smiles in a slightly mischievous but very grateful way. I think I could really value someone that can help me stand up when I’m at my lowest. I don’t want my partner to be my therapist or anything like that but I absolutely want them to be someone that I feel safe going to. And I know that I grew up only eating fries but maybe I would like to hold out until I can find someone that would notice the little things that come from knowing me for long enough to tell that I’m struggling and maybe give me like a little pack of candies when I get home and a hug. And the thought of that makes me wanna breakdown crying. I want to be careful of saying that I’m not asking for too much because honestly to me that’s the world. I think that being loved can look like a dollar store pack of sour patch kids. And it’s a quiet reminder that you have a place in my mind. And even if that place gets dirty and neglected because you’re struggling, that’s a place that’s worth cleaning and tidying up for you. And instead of just shutting the door, letting a bit of sunlight in and letting me know that no matter what I am loved.

I’ve gone pretty far from the original point but I guess another kind of a litmus test for me is the fact that I’ve kind of spent my entire life learning that depression was something to be hidden. And this was also because of my fault. At least in the sense of I was doing something that wasn’t good for other people, before I was properly treated I was essentially making this massive concern someone else’s problem when they would give me some space, and I would like to acknowledge the fact that that is no longer the case. But it still is something I’ve had to unlearn and relearn again, taking up space and asking for help from friends and family. And I think that is something that’s really hard for me but incredibly important, and when I choose a future partner I want someone who recognizes that that’s both a weakness but also something great importance to me. And I think you’d be so incredibly sweet and loving if a partner that finds out about my struggles work conditions doesn’t shy away from them, but rather goes inside with curiosity and compassion, the same way I would hope I do.

If I’m being completely honest I hope that I find this person sued, because I really want to meet them and I would love to be able to start spending time with them, and I know that an important thing is controlling my hunger for it because that is what blinds me into taking fries instead of pasta. But I think it would be an incredibly beautiful dish of pasta and I would be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it.