at what point does being sentimental become detrimental?
i had to dig through a box of old personal stuff for a work project last week. i’m sure i’ve been through it once or twice over the many moves of the past decade, but i don’t ever remember being so adversely affected by it. utter. emotional. shitshow.
the pictures of me and b, all the shit we wrote to each other, that tsunami of memories blitzed over me and i’ve felt like i’m drowning ever since.
how cliche AM i, anyway? single thirtysomething woman mourns first love.
i so desperately want to be done with it. i don’t want to dream about him anymore. i just don’t know how.