An Open Letter

I decided to go to bed a little bit early today, and so I got way more time to read. Spoiler alert, but it turns out Amos is alive and I’m so happy about that. I like reading and I’m happy that I am able to do that now.

I asked T for advice on my crush, and he told me stuff that I already feel like I know. I’m glad to corroborate it, but I kind of wish I had some kind of game plan or instruction on when or how to proceed. With dating apps you never get the same feeling of that risk. That feeling when you don’t know if the other person wants to see you in the same way you see them, and especially when it’s a friend. I thought about what would possibly be my happiest memory, and it might have been when I first asked O out in middle school. I remember I have never felt that much adrenaline in my life, and I kind of feel that now in a very baby way.

I think it’s a weird thing, but when I look at myself from the outside I think the things that I fall in love with the most are the parts of me that are a little bit weird and strange, but things that I embrace because I love them about myself. This shows up in weird mannerisms, like the way that I giggle uncontrollably after making a joke in private. Or the way that I’ll do something stupid, and then physically say holy shit I’m fucking stupid what is wrong with me, and then laugh at that at the absurdity of it all. And so I end up loving the practice of me that I already love, and it builds up more. How weird it is to be anything at all.