It is a day full of autumn. The leaves are gorgeous, and it smells good outside. I am being so productive it scares me. What scares me more is my inability to get you out of my head. Everything reminds me of you, or something you said, or something we did together. I found myself looking at pictures of us at 2 am last night. Is that wrong? I mean, I know it’s not a sin….but it scares me because all of a sudden I am facing the thing which might scare me the most.

Being alone.

Moving to Australia seems inconveniently necessary for this, for us. I mean, if I wasn’t going, I wouldn’t be able to think of a good reason to stop. Or to slow down. I think I would just grab your hand and run ahead of us and fuck everything up again. So I guess there’s hope. Hope for something more, hope for us…for me not to self-destruct again, for you to be less afraid of the thought of committing.

I want you to be vulnerable again. I think that is how I knew you were being serious; you actually were honest in your weakness. I think that is what attracts me to you. You have an inability to pretend you are perfect. I lack that. I am the most fake person I know.

So maybe you’d be something I would be good at. Maybe I would have been something you’d be good at. Who knows.