A letter from Feb 11, 2025

Dear Sarah, You're currently distracting yourself from finding parking lots because it's tedious. It's 4:20 pm on a tuesday. You're going to paperback brewing later today to do trivia with gabe, george, maybe geremy, your neighbor joseph (i think, maybe joshua). Gabe and you are friends. you still love him and want him to want you like you want him. a future. you go to bed dreaming about it. like last night, just thinking of little futures together. you had a dream the other night that the two of you went out for ice cream with your kid. a little girl with curly hair. she was eating strawberry ice cream. gabe got you a coffee flavor. he wasn't eating any. but he was smiling. it was sweet. you broke up in october. i'm sure you haven't forgotten. the biggest heartbreak. it broke you. it ruined you for a little bit. you didn't really speak for two months, and it was hard. it got easier after about a month, but no contact isn't really your thing. you met up in december. the 17th, maybe. and it was nice. and you both missed each other. and you had fantastic ***. and this continued for a couple of weeks, but it was tumultuous. you asked him if he saw a future, he said he didn't know. he went to mexico with emilie, and that hurt a lot. he got a matching tattoo with her, and that somehow hurts more. you guys emailed back and forth a lot. very emotional, pendulum swinging you're sort of friends now. friends who cuddle but haven't had *** in a month. he's celibate or some ****, and you're horny. you tried going on dates, but you weren't ready. every person reminds you that they're not gabe. so, you're going to trivia. and sometimes you take photos together and kiss in photobooths and it's nice and lovely and makes both of you happy but there's a big part of him that's holding back. and that's okay. we're both healing. you applied to the DGA trainee program a couple days ago. don't know how much of an industry will be left by the time you get this. you're working from home and you kind of like it. the house is clean and laundry is done and you can wear sweats and you have a big monitor and it allows you to have plans after work, and that feels good. let's switch. here's what i want for you, for us: i want a family. i want a home with a garden. i want to backpack smaller trails and see the world on foot, in more manageable doses than the pct. i want a partner who makes me tea and curry, who lets me braid their hair and rub their shoulder. a partner who cuddles on camping trips and we'd take photos of each other. i want to laugh all of my laughter, and cry some of my tears. i want to talk about what's going on in our heads, our joy and our fears. i want to have a daughter named frankie who eats strawberry ice cream from a cup and dog named something silly, our sweet little pup. i want my home to be filled with bright colors and reading nooks and comfy couches and plenty of books. i want more tattoos. i want swim with the whales. i want to scuba dive deep wonders and have short nails. i want to climb big walls, maybe with my partner. i want a life of love and a bit of adventure. i want a bright smile and legs that go miles. i want my photography to be seen by strangers. i want vintage on wood hangers. and i think i can have it all. i hope the parents are healthy. and that grandma's still around. i hope america doesn't go further into ******* than it already has this past month. and that your friendships have deepened. i love you. it's been a rough couple of months. really rough at some point. you have a lot of love to give and you feel things so deeply. i'm proud of you. i'm proud of the miles you've hiked and your resilience, even if being resilient gets tiresome. you have lived such a good life. and you have plenty of life to live. be good, little chef.