Dear 19 year old me
One day you will listen to The Front Bottoms just because you want to listen to the front bottoms. Not because he left you on read again or because you are driving down the same empty back country roads trying to kill time. Hailey is still gone, but you’re not trying to out run her loss anymore. You still cut your pants into shorts and regret it. You still dye your hair bright bleeding colors and never regret it (even when it pisses off your boss). It still hurts when he doesn’t text you back, but not in the way it used to crack your chest open. It is just a small disappointment. You will go on adventures you now cannot even conceive of and love and be loved by people who are on their way to you. You’ll figure out you’re not a fucking girl. You will never get better at saying goodbye or endings, but you will learn how to wait for your heart to heal. You will learn how to not let it crush you. Dear 19 year old me, from a too small apartment with too many cats and a girlfriend that loves you as you are; it gets better.
