I hate the things that I know. Things like knowing that God doesn’t exist. And knowing that war does. I hate knowing that tomorrow will come, that I’m no longer able to trick myself into thinking I can prevent it by never going to sleep. I hate knowing that life is not a movie. Things like that. But what I really hate is knowing that I will mess this up. That somewhere along the way I will begin to tell you again how beautiful you are, how I always smile when I read your messages, how you’re once again becoming my lady daydream. It’s inevitable. I can already feel it starting. I can feel myself fighting it, trying not to let it out. And so I keep it here. Where I know you know it, but where it makes the least damage. I hate knowing that that’s the reason why this is the place for those words. Your picture today reminded me so much of the last time I saw you. How close I thought I was to finally making you mine. How wrong I was. Some day in some distant future I will print out this blog and this book about you will be the longest love story ever written. And I’m still holding my breath for a happy ending.