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My Faulty Logic Undermines Your Entire Philosophy

absolute FKN mayhem

Letters to Nate #8 (The first day...)
Jelly Beans

Some days my head seems clearer.

Some days it’s like I’ve had a cold for a long time and then all of a sudden, I can breathe again; the weight on my chest has been lifted and breath comes easier.

Some days I realise that I’m smiling about things that used to make me cry, that used to make me sad or make me feel like I’d been punched in the chest.

Some days something happens that should have reminded me of you instantly, but it doesn’t, the realisation comes later.

Some days I imagine what might happen in the days to follow; these days that I’m without you.

Some days I let myself wonder about a future I never thought I needed to plan for.

Some days I feel like I’ve healed, not all the way to better, but on the way.

Some days I realise I don’t think about you as often as I used to, though I do still think about you a lot.

Some days I remember how life was before I met you and it wasn’t better, or worse, it was just different.

Some days just pass and I don’t even realise they’re gone.

Some days...

Today it’s the first day of the first year that I have not seen you alive; will not see you alive.
Today it hurts a lot, it’s harder to breathe; I miss you.
Today it doesn’t feel quite so bad as it used to.
Today I’m sad but I still feel like a whole person.

Today I am a single person living in a world that I cannot fight, believe me – I’ve tried, I can only accept that it is what it is.

I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t want it and I would never have chosen it. It was handed to me, forced on me and I haven’t stopped wishing that I could go back; that I could have a different world.

But...it is what it is.

And I am here, I am alive, and that should mean something.

I need to make it mean something because if I don’t...I have nothing else.

Now, I don’t know what happens next but, for arguments sake, let’s say...

Some day I won’t have tomorrow, but today?

I do.

Letters To Nate #7
Jelly Beans
Dear Nate,

So, I’ve been tossing up for some time what to even say to you now, after six months and one day. Things filter through, from time to time, but nothing that seems particularly worthy of jotting down. They’re just meandering thoughts that come and go; memories and ideas that float through my consciousness like clouds across a summer sky.

Nothing I haven’t already said a thousand times.

I love you.
I miss you.
I wish you were here.

I think in the end the best I’ve been able to come up with is that I do miss you, I probably always will, but I am not so much sad you’re gone now as I am glad that you were here at all. That’s a big step, you know? For me it’s gigantic and one I didn’t think I’d ever be able to make. I am thankful for you and the lessons I learned through you. They're lessons you never knew you were or would teach and ones that I'm still finding in the new light of each day.

I have though and by and by, as time passes, the days roll on and I’m more comfortable with that.

The empty starts to fill back up; the hurt begins to fade; the number of tears is less and I smile more.
Those moments of utter horror and aching when it hits me all over again that you are gone don’t come so often.
The first breath of each morning is easier to draw and the bad taste in the back of my throat is almost gone.

The healing begins; continues.
I evolve; move forward.

Life carries on, as it always has.

The new version of myself which was created in the wake of your departure is settling in and I’m getting used to it; I’m learning to live with it and work with it and I’m ok with that. It’s not ideal but it’s better than nothing.

It’s a new year now, right? And I figure if I can do no other thing I need to at least embrace that and make the most of it. Not just say I will, or say that I am, but actually fucking do it, you know? Yeah, you know.

I need to think less about what I do not have, what I cannot have, what I have lost, and focus on what I do have, can have and what is still mine.

And so that, among many other random and varied things, is my New Year’s Resolution, Nate. To not just exist in this world which is now mine but to live in it.

I don’t know that I’m ready just yet to look forward at what’s still to come but I know that step will come and, in time, I’ll take it.

I will move on.

But you’ll always be in the back of my mind somewhere. My touch stone, for better or worse…


x Rach.

Letters to Nate #6 (Today)

Dear Nate,

Today is a day of no particular significance.
Today is Saturday just like every other Saturday, really.
Today is the first of December.
Today is a day that means nothing because you are not here to make it something.

Today is a day of no particular significance except for being meaningful for what it is not.

Today is our wedding day.

Except there is no wedding; there is no us; there is no you; there is only me.
There is only this.

Today is another day without you like all the days in the five months before today.

And I'm at a loss, completely and not for the first time, as to how exactly I'm supposed to celebrate a day that is remarkable only for it's unremarkableness.

Today is a not-day in which I exist as a nothing.

I had plans, you know, for this day to be something but in the end it's become nothing. It's just empty, as I am, and I don't know what to fill it with.
I fill other days, days that are not this one, with work and with family and with other things both trivial and imperative. I fill them with life and I don't know how, I just do. I just can.

Today I can't.

I said that today I would take a bunch of colourful balloons and I would go to the beach.
I said that today I would go out to where the sand meets the water and stand there.
I said that today I would tie my engagement ring to a piece of string and tie it to the balloons.
I said that today I would let it go because it isn't anything now except a reminder of what I do not have; of what I will not have; of what I have lost.
I said that today I would release you and release myself from you.
I said that today I would let go and go on living with memories of what I did have.
I said that today I would start to fill my days with only what I do have instead of what I do not.
I said that today I would begin again.

I said that today I would...

Today is a day when I realise that I am still not ready.

Today I put the ring on a chain around my neck and I will still wear it every day until I am ready to put it away. I'll wear it by my heart where you exist now. Another day I will try again to let you go.

Another day when I have stopped expecting you to call.
Another day when I don't start typing a text to you before I realise it will go nowhere.
Another day when I stop seeing your reflection from the corner of my eye.
Another day when I don't feel your presence as if you're standing right behind me.
Another day when I am not crushed by brutal, unrelenting reality.
Another day when I am not so empty.
Another day when my heart is not so broken.
Another day when the pieces of my shattering soul are not still falling.
Another day when I am not still trying futilely to put my life back together.
Another day when I am not so hopelessly longing to go back in time.
Another day when I don't so desperately wish you were here.
Another day when it does not still hurt this much.

Another day I will find a quiet moment to say goodbye.

Another day that was not meant to be ours.

Another day that is not this one.

Today is a day of no particular significance.

Today is just another day when I miss you and I wish you were here.


On "Peeling The Onion" by Wendy Orr
Jelly Beans

Or, more actually, on the poems from "Peeling The Onion" by Wendy Orr

Within the story Anna (the lead character) writes three poems, or revisions of the same poem, at different stages of her grief.

They are, in order, as follows:

Peeling like an onion,
I am shedding filmy layers
the firm white flesh revealing
what's hidden deep inside.
Opening like a babushka
I am sorting wooden dolls
the last hollow doll is holding
the baby deep inside.
Unwrapping like a present
I am crumpling pretty papers
under the crepe and ribbons
there's a perfect gift inside.

I am
peeling like an onion -
decaying slimy layers,
hiding blackened mush inside.

I am
opening like a babushka -
the painted dolls are broken;
there's no baby left inside.

I am
unwrapping like a present -
the paper's torn and crumpled;
the gift's stolen from inside.

I am
peeling like an onion,
shedding papery protection,
and superficial skin -
tearing, skinning, ripping off the layers -
the firm and curving flesh
of what onions used to be -
Peeling onions makes me cry.

Shrinking down to nothing,
my shells are disappearing
and there's nowhere left to hide.
But under all the layers
- a tiny green shoot sprouting -
I'm growing from inside.

While sorting through boxes and boxes of old piece of paper, photographs, knick-knacks and various junk in my house during a (long, long, long overdue) spring clean of epic proportions I stumbled upon three pages of hand written verse which I had copied from this book, in lead pencil of all things. How long has it been since you wrote something in lead pencil?! I wrote them out as part of my study in year 10.

So, as a 15 year old I read this (though I don't remember much about it, or even about my life at that time) and I remember being affected in some way by the story. Now, as an adult more than 10 years later, I find myself still affected. In light of what I have been given, what has been taken and just generally what's changed in that time I think it's something I'd like to revisit more thoroughly. Beginning with, but not limited to, rereading these poems.

“The strength of Peeling the Onion lies in Orr’s measured approach to her subject. It would have been easy for this story to become a tear-filled tragedy of lost youth. Rather, it is the portrait of a determined young woman taking two steps forward for every step back in the face of shocking adversity.”

Letters to Nate #5

Dear Nate,

Just about eleven months ago, on a Tuesday morning, while making eggs and coffee, we made a deal.

I think, in the end, we called it engaged to be engaged?
A commitment to make a commitment to each other.
When there wasn't too much other stuff going on.
If the weather was nice.
And on the condition that you bought me either my favourite Subway with a cookie and a strawberry milk or took me Sizzler afterwards.

"Do you think we should get married?"
At length, with a shrug and without even looking up at you, my reply; "Yeah, ok, why not."

So very romantic.
But in our way, for us, it was kind of romantic. It suited us like we suited each other.

We slow danced (because by then slow dancing to mark significant moments was already "our thing") in the middle of the kitchen to a song you had loaded up on your iPhone, just in case I said yes, because secretly you're more sentimental about these things than anyone would ever know.

You knew that the moments were important to me even when they seemed silly or insignificant. But it wasn't for me that day. Not all for me, anyway. You wanted moments to count too and you wanted them to be marked by something like a song.
You knew it was easier for me to remember and timeline events when they were associated with tangible things.

You're a romantic.

You were.

Why the hell wouldn't we let it happen exactly like that?! I mean obviously that's how, when and where you finally agree to get married. You'd been badgering me for months so I figured it was the least I could do, right? Reward your persistence.
Or maybe it was just to shut you up about it. :)
I don't back down easy, babe, you know that better than anyone, so you're lucky to have borne witness to it.

It was only about a week later that you got the job offer in Sydney. As if I'd stop you going, as if I'd ever expect you to be the stoic macho man and give up what you'd worked so hard for a shot at because of me.

Fuck off. Go and do your thing, we'll have a few dirty weekends when we can. It'll be fun. It'll be an adventure.

I love that you hesitated though. I love that you asked my permission. I love that you knew I'd never have let you stay. I love that you knew it was a sure thing because I would never stop you.

I love that you knew that I'd be happy for you, excited for you. I'd never stand in your way, you knew that, but you still gave me an out because you were so sweet.

I love that you knew how much I loved you.

I love that we were both so certain there was no need to rush.

We had all our lives to be together, what difference would a year make?

We had forever...


Forever isn't as long as you think, you know? In the grand scheme of things forever is barely more than a heartbeat. It's just a second.

Then it's gone.

And I feel so guilty, sometimes, a lot of times, because as much as I want to say "if I'd known I wouldn't have changed a day" and mean it. It's just not bloody true.

If I'd known ... if we'd known ... I don't know.

Maybe it is true, maybe I would have still let you go because you were so damn happy. You loved that job - despite your girly whining about it.

But maybe I would have asked you to stay. Maybe I would have given in to my selfishness and held on to you.

I know nothing can change what happened. I know no matter where you were or who you were with it would still have happened.
You would still have died because, despite our obliviousness, it was a predetermined event.
It was always going to happen (and after almost three months I just about believe those words, too).
I know I couldn't love you more than I already did, I wouldn't have felt any more strongly about you if you'd been with me those last seven months, but I can't help wonder...

what if...

I'll try not to think about it.

I'll try not to count up from when I last saw your ugly face; when I last held your hand; felt your breath; heard your voice; the months I've been without you.
It's been three today, by the way. Three months.

I'll try not to count down to the things that will never eventuate like the next time I would have seen you; the day you would have come home; our wedding day.

I'll try not to cry.

I'll try to be brave.

I'll try to remember that I had my reasons for forestalling you so long.

I'll try not to miss you. Not too much.

I'll try and forget, or at least not dwell on, our misbegotten eternity.

I'll listen to the song you thought fit perfectly into a moment you created for me while we danced.
The last time we danced.
When we still had forever...

Hey there, I said it
I’m in love
With you

There’s an ocean between us
Just like me
Deep and blue

And I, at times, have had nothing
But tonight I want nothing
But you

You’re the only thing I want
The only thing I want
The only thing on my mind
All the time

Staying up til dawn
Won’t take its toll til we get old
And drinking is just the way
We keep away the cold

And you, you know what it means
To be true and searching
Like me

You’re the only thing I need
The only thing I need
The only thing on my mind
All the time

And you, gave me a reason
To give you my soul
I’ll give you it all

You’re the only one I want
The only one I need
The only one on my mind
All the time

I'll try to heal.


~ May you live all the days of your life ~
Because I was extended the honour of saying a few words at my friends 18th birthday party last night. Here they are, or here's the idea of what they should have been.

For Alexandra, you saucy minx!! ;) Thank you for adopting me. For picking me up, dusting me off and claiming me as your own.


Hello, what lovely smiling faces all around me, how wonderful. My name is Rach, for those who don’t know me, and I’ve been asked by the birthday girl to say just a few words. I’ll try and be a little more charismatic and eloquent than “so excited I’m practically burping rainbows” which I am but that’s not really the point. So, well, here we are! On behalf of Alexandra, Jennifer and Aldis, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. Is that enough words? No? Ok, maybe a few more.

Firstly, though it goes without saying, I think, maybe, I don’t know. I’ll say it anyway, for prosperity sake. I’d like to acknowledge the wonderful effort of your parents. I cannot even imagine how proud they must be of you.

Lexi, you’re eighteen!! I can hardly believe it. I swear it doesn’t seem like that long ago that this was years away!

It’s been my very great pleasure to watch as this very astute, incessantly chattering fourteen year old girl who I once knew has grown into an equally astute and incessantly chattering, slightly more mature – most days - eighteen year old young woman. Who I have most recently learnt is also shameless exhibitionist! Always very entertaining.

My lovely friend, thank you for letting me be a part of that journey. I can’t even tell you how much I’ve enjoyed the ride thus far. There really are so many things that you’ve taught me, things I hope I’ve been able to teach you, too, and things we’ve learnt together.

The mosaic of my, and I’m sure everyone here’s, memories of you is an unfathomable artwork of beauty and laughter and slightly questionable conversations; of good fun and great company; brilliant memories which shine far brighter than the shadowed times. And just so you know – in the written version of this speech I just used two semi-colons correctly, I think, and there’s another almost half a dozen later.

I will always think of you as an intelligent, enthusiastic and down to Earth person with wonderful taste in music, a sound sense of humour and fantastic organisational skills. I can’t even begin to tell you what a gift it is that you not only embrace, encourage and, let’s be honest, allow my flailing about various things but also that you actually join me in being a nine year old on a sugar rush when the situation calls for it.

I quite simply adore your excitement about life.

You are a creature of admirable morals, high personal standards and exemplary hygiene practices. I love your practicality and more so your ability to maintain it without limiting your ability to dream big when setting goals for yourself. I wish I possessed such a skill but I don’t. Though it doesn’t really matter because I have you there to affectionately prod and encourage me.

Alexandra, I both want and need to thank you for always being there for me, through good and bad. Thank you for your beautiful loyalty. You know all the backstories required for that to have the impact and the weight I mean for it to. Knowing I have that, that I have you and your friendship forever means so much to me. It means everything to me.

Look, I’ll shut myself up now because – well – I want cake.

You’re beautiful, you’re an inspiration and a cornerstone for me personally and it’s an honour and a privilege to know you. I wish for you nothing but good things. A suit wearing husband; a nice car; a sexy place to live; good coffee; al dente pasta; eventual ownership of the universe and implementation of a society which does not conform to gender stereotypes.

In the words of Stana Katic, because I simply couldn’t resist; If you find something really, really great – don’t screw it up! Don’t mess it up. Hang on to each other.

I do not love you...
Jelly Beans

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

- Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII

Letters to Nate #4
Jelly Beans

Dear Nate,

It's been two months today.

Nine weeks.

Sixty-two days.

A lot has changed, you know? Apart from the obvious there's been a lot going on.

I finished study, I finished my prac, I got a job (it's awesome and I love it).

Your daughter turned eight. Our nephew turned one. Our niece turned five. You and Katta turned thirty-two.

One of my bridesmaids turned eighteen, the other is just about to do the same. Cheez, I can't believe it.

I've made new friends. I've reconnected with old friends. I've decisively avoided people and am just not even going there. For my own good.

I've cancelled our entire wedding. I'm pretty sure I have anyway. Although I was really tempted to keep the bubble machine hire and just run it in my house for a day.

I love bubbles. You know this, you hired the damn bubble machine for me in the first place.

I've stopped wearing my engagement ring all of the time. I can't wear it at work, and I didn't wear it during my prac even before you were gone. It was a point of contention, actually. You died two days before I finished my first round of prac and I spent a good lot of time unsure what to do with my ring. I'd worn it on a necklace around my neck while I was working and it took me a while to figure out whether to put it back on after I was done or leave it on the necklace or get rid of it or...? I don't know.

I put it back on and it didn't feel wrong, so let's go with that. I take if off for work now and leave it on the desk by my laptop. I take it off before social family functions because somehow it was making other people uncomfortable and I just got sick to shit of the awkward shift when someone noticed it.

For goodness sakes! I'm exactly the same person as I was two months and one day ago, I might react a bit differently sometimes. I might move away from certain conversations. I might ask not to talk about something. Whatever, though, you know? Doesn't everyone at some point about something? I'm still me and it makes me so uncomfortable that I seem to be making other people so uncomfortable just by ... existing, I don't even know.

It's all your fault, by the way, just so you know. Not hating, just saying...

Am I not supposed to talk about you? Because I do, a lot, and damn people if they don't like it really but Jesus. I'm so sick to death of that look people give me when I drop your name. STOP FEELING SORRY FOR ME! I AM NOT THE ONE WHO FUCKING DIED SO JUST FUCKING STOP IT!

Contrary to apparent common opinion I am still here and I'd like to actually just get on with it, please. People keep telling me they're worried about me. I haven't done this 'properly' (I was unaware there was an approved model of behaviour for 'your fiancé has died' but there you go). I worry too, and anyone who will stop making sympathy face at me and stop judging my grief long enough to actually listen to the words coming out of my mouth will know that.

Look at my face, for goodness sake. I'm half broken and barely holding it together, but I am still here and I comprehend your looks and your gestures and your tones, people. I'm not an idiot, just a bit numb.

Here's the truth; I don't think I'm doing this right either. I think I should have felt a lot more and a lot stronger by now but I haven't so ... yeah. I don't know. I guess it's still coming and that's ok with me in the general scheme of things. I don't think I'm in any particular hurry to have that emotional breakdown because it's going to be atomic in proportion and I guess, in a lot of ways, I'm kind of terrified of that?

It's not going to be pretty. Necessary, I know, but still - messy.

No one wants to hear it though. As soon as you come up (no dirty jokes, this is a family show) they're all wide eyes and pats on the back and empty platitudes. I get a lot of hugs and I'm not complaining because I love hugs, but what I really want is just someone who'll listen, Nate, because I don't understand this and I really want to. I need to? I don't know.

I just want an open space with no judgement where I can blather on for a while and just make sense of this. I do want feedback but honest feedback, not just how sorry someone is or whatever. It's probably going to take a while, you know, but that's ok. Isn't it? Instead of moving too quickly through this I've just failed to start.

That's not true; hello denial. I've had kind of enough of you now and I'd like to move on to the next stage if that's quite alright. Please?

I want to cry and not be ashamed of that, not be worried that it's going to upset someone else.
I want to get angry if I'm ready to get angry.
I want someone to listen to my imbecilic bargaining without shutting me down and telling me it doesn't work that way. I bloody know it doesn't but that doesn't stop the thoughts from coming.
I want to tell someone that sometimes, for a minute, I feel like just walking out the front door and not stopping, ever, until I fall down and don't get back up. There are days when I don't know how or why I even bother getting out of bed but I do because I don't know what else to do. There are nights I'm too scared to go to sleep because of the crushing weight of memories that fall on me when I wake up again. That and the guilt when I wake up again because you didn't.
I want to laugh, I want to talk about how much I hated you sometimes and how angry you made me.
I want to gush about how much I loved you and how idiotic and funny and great and frustrating you were. How happy you made me.

How happy you still make me because you're still real for me, you're still here for me. Memories of you are in just about every single moment of every single day for me.

I see you everywhere.

Gee, Rach can't let go. That's new. Not.

I don't know why I have to.

Ok, I know why I have to...

I don't know why I have to yet. I don't want to yet. I'm not ready.

I have to find a way to deal with that and so does everyone else.

I want to know what you would do, if this was the other way around. I want to know how you would have dealt if I'd died first. I know half of it because we talked about it but that's not quite the same.

I want to hear about all the plans you'd made for after I'd gone because it's stupid but it was comforting. It's even more comforting now to think about just how long your life could have been. I thought it'd make it worse but it didn't because my imagination lets me see you living in those moments that weren't meant for us to share. I love you all the more for having lists of things we were going to do together and lists of things that you were going to do after... Just after, wasn't it. It was just called 'after'.

I have a lot of demands.

I'm not sorry.


Letters to Nate #3
Jelly Beans

Dear Nate,

I'm angry at you sometimes, you know? I know it's completely irrational and pointless but I still get so angry at you.

At the universe.

At God?

How the fuck could you just leave like that? Just wait a minute. That is NOT fair. You don't get to just ... fuck off. How could you be taken away from me after every-other-fucking-thing that I've lost or given up or missed out on or ... whatever, you know. I don't fucking know.

I can't decide if it's unjust or ironic or punishment or ... I don't know. I know that I need to try and justify it somehow, I just haven't figured out exactly how quite yet.

Working on it!

I'm not angry now but I can call it up easily enough if I let myself think about it. I try not to think about it (obviously, because why would I do that to myself on purpose?) but sometimes it happens without my permission. Sometimes I just find myself in the middle of this moment and I'm having a complete meltdown and I always wonder how I ended up there but it doesn't really matter.

I get angry.
I get sad.
I get the giggles.
I get warm and fuzzy.

It's true! And at random. All my feelings seem to sneak up on me and jump out and grab hold these days, they don't just occur normally like...normal people feelings (the hell does that even mean?)...they're sneaky now and they always catch me off guard!

Numb...numb...numb...HELLO! Emotion!

Ninja, it's definitely something ninja. Ninja emotions.

Simple things set me off, tiny stupid little things, like lyrics in songs or phrases people use.



Anything could do it, really.

Your toothbrush, razor and deodorant on the bathroom sink. They mock me every God damn day, every time I go into the bathroom, but I can't seem to bring myself to move them because sometimes I get angry at them for existing in a world where you don't exist anymore and sometimes they make me happy because they remind me of you. They let me remember how you smelt. They let me remember that your favourite colour was yellow and you simply HAD to have a yellow toothbrush. They let me remember the feeling of your cheeks when they were scratchy with stubble and the feeling of them when they were smooth and cool after you'd shaved.

They let me remember the day you came back to bed after a shower with a pout on your face so big I thought you'd trip over your bottom lip. You showed me a bruise and a little cut on your elbow.

"Shower related injury!" You told me as if from that I was supposed to understand exactly why you were waking me up at unGodly o'clock on my day off with your big wet puppy dog eyes and a Wiggles band-aid, offered to me as if it explained everything. You were so stunned by my lack of understanding and sympathy. "And not the fun kind," Oh, right because that cleared it all up.

The hell, Nathaniel?! It must have been about 2 o'clock in the morning and you'd so carefully extracted yourself from the bed to shower and get ready for work only to come in and wake me up anyway. You big...freaking...goofball!!!

I put your damn band-aid on and kissed it better, kissed you goodbye (you tasted like strong black coffee, cigarettes and toothpaste in the mornings) and off you went.

It's so you. So perfectly an example of why I loved you so much.

"Who's a cheeky little fruitcake then."

I miss you so much and I still hurt, I still feel so empty and a little bit like this isn't real but with the weight of knowing this won't just end and go away.

But you still make me laugh, so much, and I like that.

Love you,

Letters to Nate #2
Jelly Beans
Dear Nanu,

Today is your 32nd birthday. Happy birthday!

*blows party whistle & throws confetti*

I bought you a navy blue tie with ridiculously (sickening, really) bright coloured polka dots on it and the matching tie clip. Hayles picked out the matching cuff links and matching pair of socks to go with. I don't know but I'm pretty sure you would've loved them. We were going to surprise you last weekend when you came to visit.

But you didn't make it here.

I always thought, without really putting much (or any) thought into it, that the significant event we'd take part in (together, obviously) in front of family and friends would be our wedding.


It's your funeral and it's tomorrow.

I get to see you, then, for the first time since you randomly stalked me at the Sydney Royal and we got to spend about ten minutes together while my dad was distracted looking at decorated cakes or something. Then we met up and had ice cream before the fireworks. That was fifteen weeks ago.


Tomorrow, though, tomorrow I get to see you again if only for a second and for the last time. At least I get to see you.

I've missed your stupid face, you know? But if anyone asks I'll deny it.

Love you,

xoxo Rara.

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