reading through the sporadic thoughts that i jotted down in this space over the past couple of months and remembering the headspace that i was in as i filed all those lines away. recalling a coded taste that only i would recognize looking back. that one text message about the sky that really meant, “i still think of you when i see beauty in the world but i don’t know how to speak to you anymore, i’m not sure if i’m allowed to anymore”. how did i ever let things get that way? what decisions will i make moving forward? who will i be in 3 months? what are the things that will matter to me, what are the things that i will invest myself in? it feels like, perhaps, all we will be able to say soon is sorry. sorry, i’m so sorry.