"Bros before hoes"

You'll probably never read this. And I won't ask you to. This is my playground and you're an adult. It's good too because I know you don't get moved by sentimental crap.

I'm sorry. I fucked up. I though I'd never be saying something like that. Though I'd always be at the receiving end of that. I'm sorry I wasn't there when I should have been. And there is no way to rewind.

And you've always been there. "Chin up". "You can handle anything". "You don't need to be rescued". Like a drill sergeant. Or a nike commercial.

Life's short. And we always have to move forward. I don't want to conceive of how much I've fallen. Would involve realizing that I almost lost. And yet, your life is full of images of me.

You're the only person who can boss me around without trying. And the one who can actually make me feel guilty about not going out at night. And the one who can see though me before I realize what I feel. The one who patiently lets me fumble and fall and get up myself. The one who can revive Paris in Arlington. The one who could watch a burlesque, innocence intact. The one from whom I learned to expect more, and finally, to slow down. I've never met someone so grounded and so sure of herself. Beside you, I'm effusive.

I remember when we first met. You'd said something about liking me for the bubble I lived in, and that you lived in one too. Was an odd thing to say, to acknowledge the newspaper world for a moment, and then put it all aside. And since then, you knew how to lead, and I, to follow. People assumed we were the same but I always knew better.

I know I'm lucky. That you'll make me live in the moment, and not play the 'remember when?' game. Please be angry. I'm not asking for grace. Just don't go far. I'm not used to maps.