It’s such a confusing feeling on the days that I think about her— and want to look for her, but I don’t.

I should be proud of myself, but sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the emptiness of the echo.

Tonight I thought about her but reminded myself that looking for her doesn’t serve me. And if I did, I probably wouldn’t feel good seeing what I found.

How strange it is even after all this time.

Still, I am more than this.

Uncategorized personal queer the first girl i ever loved vulnerability