And I think we both knew

There’s nothing more extraordinarily boring to me than a love I’m not really in - one has to dress it up in words to make it meaningful to others. Make the argument. Make it believable. Ensure there is some kind of wordplay that makes it sound universal or profound.

Yet I’ve found real love can almost never be pinned down in words for what it was.

I’m not convinced it’s possible to know…

Maybe I’m crazy, but I think we knew. Everyone who spent time around us knew. Still, I don’t want to spell out the little secrets of our world.

Which is why I won’t say more.

And why I will never understand the explicit relationship and love oversharing phenomenon. Nothing says “it’s not real love” like

“THIS IS LOVE! THIS IS LOVE! THIS IS LOVE!”

Because we were never for anyone else.

❤️

I’m happy that he’s hers now. That he found that. I wanted him to be him. He wanted me to be whatever I needed to be. Wherever I needed to be.

And we both are.

(Just as we were then 👇)