I whined all yesterday morning to LH about the terrible news I had received the night before, about the plans being changed. It took four hours for it to settle in until I decided that wasting emotion on the inevitable doesn't fly for a 23-year-old.
In the back of my mind, I doubted that Pecker and I would talk again that night, for we had conversed ourselves to sleep the night before. Though I still hoped that we could at least chat, I decided to keep it at that. There's nothing more irritating than unsolicited extra effort. Surprisingly, when I got home, he texts me that he'd call me if I wasn't busy. So we talked, yet again, for a good three hours. The night swept by and I had lost track of time.
Sometimes, I wonder, how long it will take before this ends? How long will it take to run out of things to say? To get bored? To repeat stories more than twice?
My parents have a great relationship. They always have so much to say to each other. I will have this someday.
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I am in the moment of relishing these conversations with always something in mind, the words piling up in my head. At the end of each day, there are still things left unsaid.
Somehow, I know there is nothing for me to be afraid of. Not all good things come to an end...
I hope.
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