I’m not sure you care—if you’re even reading this—but I had to put it out there because I feel the last of our cords wearing down. They were once wound so tight together that we couldn’t tell which half was yours or mine. Then we tugged, and pulled, and tore what was only our own until our knot was beat and bent and thin, and slowly, but surely, breaking.
We could never see what bound us, but the last of whatever it was is almost gone, so these are my last words to you—if you even care—if you’re even reading this.
Continue reading “From AG with Love”
I’m learning to walk without you—and except for that night through the streets of New York—I technically always have. You were consistently hundreds of miles away, but you never failed to whisper in my ear and laugh with me wherever we were going.
You remain this phantom I’ve hosted for months—appearing on sidewalks as cars pass playing our songs. The hardest part is knowing that you’re just as close as you have always been; a movement to the device that never leaves my side, and yet, everything has changed so that you’re not.
Continue reading “Learning”
You have to remember the bigger things. Where were you two years ago? Who was the most important person in your life? Did you wake up early to watch the sunrise like you said you would?
I need you to do something, and it’s not for me, it’s for you. You need to wake up. Take one day, just one day, to gift yourself, and go.
Continue reading “Light.”
Give me 40 years and I will regret every late night I spent at the office. Tell me you wish I stayed an hour longer that evening with our neighbors and I’ll wish so too. Despite anything you may think – I worked hard to give you what I think you want. I want better for our children. For our future. For us.
Continue reading “A Letter Never Sent (#2)”