Dear beloved readers,

What is it about rainy days that just make me so depressed I can hardly breathe? I feel like I spent the whole day watching the rain fall down from heaven and with this lump in my chest consuming every little bit of me.

Truth is, some days are hard. I feel like I had a week filled with mean reds, so much so that every time I caught myself I had watery, hazy eyes and it felt like I didn’t know how to breathe. I can feel every motion getting slower, as if I am doing things in slow-motion, everything around me is steady and fast and I am a draft of a person trying to keep up. But I try to stay positive, remember that it is a bad week not a bad life, focus on the good things, the people who love me and are always here for me no matter what. But days like today, in which I saw the break of the dawn, shy between thick, grey clouds and the twilight coming, chasing the rain and slowly shutting down Earth – as if to tell me that I can breathe because I won’t have to face this chaos anymore and tomorrow, well, tomorrow will be a brand new beginning.

Or so this is a promise I’ve been making myself every since I can remember. But I’ve lived enough mean reds to know that the tomorrows do come, often with swollen, red-rimmed eyes and a sore throat. But then there are coffee dates with my friends that take up all my morning, and so many laughs I fear the minute we have to say goodbye and I need to be on my own again. And phone calls to my mom that I selfishly often just look for the reassurance of her love. And plans, so many plans, and promises that make it impossible for me not to seek and hope and lurk for tomorrows, as distance as some of my tomorrows may seem.

I am almost laughing, because I’ve been partially blaming Lana Del Rey this past week for making me so emotional with her new album – that I can’t stop listening to by the way. But there other things in this equation, I am sure of. I’ve been upset with some college situations, and hopelessly alone, mostly at nights when I hate my own company and I crave for human contact. And this person from my past attempt to crawl back into my life a few days ago, and I still don’t know what to do with him. It’s one of those cases that you are not quite sure if it will kill you or consume you with a certain type of love you barely remember feeling, but it’s always somewhere inside you, past asleep, waiting for you to wake it up. And I’ve been getting signals all week that I should just open up and let him, basically hand my heart to him and say “listen, do whatever you want with it, make a true mashed potatoes out of it, as long as you have it I don’t care.” But then I remember all the effort I put into letting go, and how much I’ve been working on this particular action for the past couple weeks and how devastated I’d be to let go again.

I guess there will be some infamous people in your life that no matter what they do to you you will only be capable of loving them. And loving them some more.

And he was there for me when everything was darkening and confusing. He basically held my hand and guided me through it. Kissed my finger tips and made me so many promises I still can hear them when I get too scared of the dark. If there is a meaning of a ride or die, he was it for me. Fuck it, I’ve wrote about him for the past decade almost and I still cry every time I listen to our songs. I still miss him when something happens and I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do, just for someone to be by my side. I also miss him when the sun sets and I light up the last cigarette of the day, forever ago that was my favorite time, we would sit on the beach and watch the waves get more aggressive, the water colder, glistering with the last promising rays of sunshine, getting ready for it all over again. And we would sit there, I wouldn’t even mind getting sand everywhere, and we would make crazy plans that involved running away, getting brand new identities and – even though we never said it – finding a way to let, whatever it was between us, to exist.

And today, as I was stuck in a bus ride back to the place that I never truly called home but that held the person that made me feel something close to it, and the rain was hitting the glass window miserably, almost punishing it and Lana sang about a love song, I feared with everything I have in me that I will never be able to forget. Even if I did let go.

I wonder if I will forever compare everyone I meet with him, with the way he still makes me feel to this day when all we have is a handful of texts every four months or so and liking each other’s pictures online. I wonder if I will ever get over the fact that I will ever be able to forgive myself for not being able to remember our kisses because I was intoxicated in every single one. I wonder if he shares this whole thing with me, if he sits alone in the dark and unconsciously looks for my hand, if he can smell my hair when he closes his eyes really tight, if he thinks of me when he listens to one of our many songs.

And it calms me to know that in some level he probably does all of the above. In some platonic, completely friendzoned way, he does. And then I wonder if this is our reality, our only reality and I made this whole thing in my head or if he still is, after all this years, a coward. Looking for an excuse not to eat the peach he ruined by holding it too tightly. And I have so much to take responsibility for when it comes to our story that it’s not even fair to call him a coward, I was one too for years. And now we are older, and probably just in a complete different moment to allow ourselves to be whatever the fuck we are. Still felt pretty good and completely terrifying when he text me this week saying he missed me.

Made me realize a lot about the recent boys I was involved with. How they all shared the same fuckboy DNA and the same toxic traits I look for when I am so deep in my self-loathing skills that I can barely see straight. And how he is everything but those things. How he’s caring and kind and funny and always looks at me as if I am this precious, powerful person that he will never take for granted. How he always listens, ready to learn every aspect of the universe according to my eyes and it’s fascinated and eager by what I have to teach him. How he, unlike all the others, had more parts of me at their reach than my witty, confident, bad bitch side. He always knew how to look past all of my masks, and when it came to him I didn’t even want to hide.

The rain is still trying to leave permanent stains on my windows and making this lonely night almost terrifying. I am holding on this blanket for dear life and nearly embarrassed to publish this one, I think I’ve never been this nostalgic and afraid – even if I am not quite sure of what.  I will probably enjoy viciously this next two weeks, three if I am lucky, of random texts every here and there with endless promises of our big reunion that I know somewhere deep inside will never come. I will hold on to this virtual, barely existent piece of him for as long as I can. And as if this isn’t embarrassing and meaningless to anyone else but me: I love him. I can’t remember a time I didn’t and I can’t see a future in which I won’t. And it sucks to have to come here and admit that, it sucks that I’ve been stuck on this for so long without being able to say it. It stings and aches that I could go on and on about this for centuries without ever getting tired of describing how right our touch feels and how happy I am when inches from him. I wrote about him here more times than I am proud of, come to think of it, I wrote about him everywhere so many times I should indeed feel embarrassed. I want to say this will be the last one, but I also hope with every living fiber of my heart that I am right about this and that we are it for each other. And I guess I am endless rainy days from finding out if I am right.

This post is selfish and terribly as a rainy day that won’t go away. But I will leave you guys with this one because sometimes I need to be vulnerable, and as I tried to come up with a better idea to write this week and all I could think about was the day I spent five hours staring at the ceiling because he had texted me after three months and I didn’t know what to do, I thought if this is the place we all come to share and feel safe, I might as well do the same. I will try to focus on the good things, such as McFly being back, my best friends loving me no matter what, the home-cooked meal my mom made just for me, and however long this thing between us lasts. Thank you for letting me be myself during this grey day, that feels exactly like a mean red, I feel like a child again when my mom would let me ditch class when the weather was too awful and I needed the extra sleep. So thank you, really for this. I love you guys, please stay out of trouble and if you don’t – oh my god tell me all about it.

– Your Girl on the Go