The hypothetical love letter moving in the shadows.
To You:
I’m sensing boredom. There’s nothing to say, and nothing we want to share. And I’m just trying too hard. I don’t want to try at all. Were it up to me I’d just stop talking. Such an exhaustion comes from having to force conversation. It’s supposed to flow.
Lately I’m a bit more social, talking to people I haven’t spoken to in a while. Or getting to know people I only just barely made small talk with, and the feeling is good.
There has to be some sort of balance in life then, I guess. Some things look up and what was once going well must start to fall down slowly (but always so surely).
Give me something to write about.
And don’t ever forget I love you.
-Bri
