I wish I knew what to say to you. I don’t.
You want to give up. Cry Eliza, cry. It’s okay. You know, he’s given you a gift – AH. Hurting you enough that you can cry about it. You let something in, I think he’s the only thing (person in this case) that you’ve ever really let in. I guess maybe that’s why he’s the first thing you’ve cried about in years. Continue reading “Letter to myself: 12th March”