issue 37 - i don’t know what it all means, but it still makes me want to believe in love again
lots of updates, and a not so secret love letter
hello dear FRESHers, it’s been a long, long time! i have a lot to update you on, with not a lot of time so i’ll make it short and sweet.
in the past year i’ve:
become a flight attendant and spent the year travelling the world
moved out into my own place
fulfilled childhood dreams and had to pinch myself too many times
made so many core memories with people i care about
fallen in and out of love
i know we usually talk about things that are ~fresh~ here on FRESH, but i want to switch things up a little bit this issue. i’ve been going through a lot of personal things lately - recently, i think its fresh to allow yourself to have feelings, own them unapologetically and to express them. hence, i caught the writing bug again and needed to write this out.
FRESH: feelings
A Not So Secret Love Letter:
i remember the day we finally met in person. i open the door, and you are standing there in front of me. our eyes meet, and something in the air changes. it feels like a “good to see you again”, instead of a “nice to meet you”.
i’m at the bus stop on your birthday, and you’re here to pick me up. you’re all excited, because you say it’s the first time anyone has travelled this far to see you.
you catch my eye from across the crowd. you’re mouthing the lyrics to our song as it plays, willing me to hear what you mean.
the stereo is loud, and the Uber is taking us all home. your thigh is glued to mine in the back seat. we don’t move an inch.
it’s the morning. i don’t know how we ended up here, but i’m lying next to you, watching you peacefully fast asleep. i stare at your eyelashes and wonder if you feel the same way.
i’m hugging you tight in a San Francisco parking lot and not letting you go because it feels right. your Uber is waiting for you to get on, all our friends are around us. you tell me later how much that hug meant to you.
nobody is aware that we’re playing footsie under the table. nobody is aware that you’re coming home with me later. i can’t wait to get you alone.
we’re kissing for the first time. i can feel you smiling, and it makes me laugh. i’ve never felt this kind of happiness before.
the back seat of your car smells like takeout pizza boxes and us.
you’re watching me on the subway while someone else is holding me. i don’t want to think about how sad you look.
i’m sitting on your lap on our California porch. the sky is dark out, and the night is young. there is plenty of room in your bedroom, but i decline.
you’re spooning me, and your phone is under the pillow. it’s playing something we know all the words to. we aren’t allowed to kiss each other. you read me poetry you wrote about me. i wonder if it’s too little too late.
we're in a Denver bar after getting snowed out. we haven’t talked in a year. your head is in my lap, and i stop questioning things.
i send a risky text, and make my way to your new place. you’re giving me a full house tour. i peep into the bedroom, but you stop me and say we’ll get there later. it’s really endearing.
you ring the doorbell, and i rush to open your door. you’re standing there with beautiful flowers, but they don’t compare to you.
we’re watching the sunset over the Hudson. Lady Liberty is in the distance. i’m holding you, and the sky is purple. it feels like we are in a film.
i’m slamming you against the door in jealousy. we end up talking about it on your carpet. i wonder if this will break us.
my flight gets diverted to Boston. i curse and tell the universe to stop keeping us apart.
we wake up in your bed. you tell me you don’t see a future with me. it’s the first time i’ve seen you cry about us. my brain short circuits, and later i cry my make up off as i’m putting it on for work.
i tell you not to buy me flowers if you don’t mean it. i want them anyway.
we’re on the floor of your shower. you say you won’t be able to take showers again.
it’s raining on a Philadelphia night. my hand is in yours in your coat pocket as we walk down the streets. your lips taste like magic.
i’m sitting at your building lobby again, waiting for you to come down after work. i’m in a new red furry coat. i have first-date-feeling butterflies in my stomach even though it’s the last time.
our legs are intertwined in a restaurant booth. the server comes over to say happy anniversary to us, because you booked the reservation as that. he asks us how many years it’s been, we look at each other and don’t know what to say.
you pick me up from my hotel, i’ve got flowers for you and we’re on the highway home. it’s been so long since i’ve been in your passenger seat.
your friend drunkenly tells me that you’re looking to get hitched, and urges me to make a move on you. i know it’s not true, but it gives me dangerous hope for a second.
i’m stuck in traffic on the bus, and i finally get your reply that i knew was coming.
there’s graffiti on the bathroom door at the club. it says “i miss everyone i’ve ever met”. i am frantically texting you, knowing it’s my last chance to. i miss one person more than the rest.
my Uber is taking me back to my hotel. it’s not the right direction, but we’re driving on the highway home to you. we pass your work building, the subway entrance we don’t use because it closes after 7pm, the Bath and Body Works i dragged you to. i can’t hold in my tears anymore in the back seat.
the reception staff are watching me sob in the hotel lobby. they silently offer me a box of Kleenex. i tell them i can’t go upstairs yet because my room is too empty. they console me until i feel ready to fly home alone.
i’m sitting on my carpet typing this out. i don’t know what it all means, but it still makes me want to believe in love again.
thank you for making it this far with me, i am ever grateful for you.
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love,
wing
alright, over to you now - reply to this email with your thoughts! if you enjoy a little prompting:
what does your heart sound like at this moment?
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