Yesterday my friend told me that she fell in love with a stranger on the bus. I think it’s funny how it’s so simple for some people, but I suppose it’s that simple for me too. I loved you first. I loved you second. I love you last. I love the ugly parts of you and the parts that remind me of rain and how my eyes are foggy in the morning.  

I never used to think about dying. And now I love you and I think about it all the time. Will I die and never hold your hand?

I feel like someone pulled my life out from under me like a rug and all that’s left is you and you and you.  

Today I sat next to a man in the library. He was reading Fitzgerald and told me his name was Adam. I keep telling myself I need to meet people and hear their stories and learn that there is more to this city than you. But the more I listen to them, the more I realize that you are the thing that holds my body in this place.

People tell me that they are in love, but I don’t believe them. All I know is that it’s possible to be.