I decided to come as Peach for this post.
I remember when you told me you were going to see Mario Bros for the second time in theatre. We laughed about the same parts and giggled through GIF’s and LOL’s over Bowsers song to Princess Peach. What a Lush.
Why am I bringing up this memory? Cause it’s fond and I enjoy its radiance.
It’s tough to see and know that you and I have been through so much these four years. But as I said before, I’d walk the seven levels of hell barefoot to hold your hand.
And it seems like I am.
But you’re there too. Your feet are bloody and bruised. You’re clearly maimed from walking this path and outreaching your hand for mine. How I wish I could grasp it one last time, to mend the wounds and interlace my hope with your fingers so that you have something steady to hold on to.
I haven’t been the perfect person lately. Not that one exists but maybe we can all try to example some form of it sometimes. I do my best to, but some days feel worse than others. I’m somewhere I don’t belong. It seems natural that I’m in such a long depressive phase with moments of painful lash out’s. Though I wish they’d cease and let me breathe, I must continue walking.
I miss our easy moments. The ones that happened without the extra effort. I miss the honest moments. Those are the furthest away and I just need them back in my hands.
I know you’re not ready yet because I’m not either. Isn’t that what this is all about? I’m making moves so just watch as I inch closer to you.
I love you deerly, dude.
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon. 🫶🏼