(not a blow job day sadly)

On two different continents, but joined by prosecco and love..London to Africa and all the way to the Moon.

It's a first anniversary that we spend apart, but at this point - can we ever truly be apart? You're in the motherland digging & excavating your own roots, whilst I'm learning to do day-to-day life on my own over here in London for the first time in my adult life. I am happy to report no major incidents, like flooding the bathroom (yes, that happened before) or leaving the oven on for a few days straight (that too), and since throughout my thirties, I've managed to shake-off many of emotional insecurities, fear of abandonment & the subsequent self-sabotage (I'll hurt them before they get a chance to hurt me), mistrust in anything good in life & overall my inherent emo-drama - I am not tearing my hair out & climbing the walls of our empty and cold cold flat either*.

*I do however still check under the bed for monsters and serial killers before sleep every night.

Don't get me wrong - I am still me. I'd still always prefer company over solitude & sharing the lifes' dazzling messiness instead of updating you on it via texts. But it's so important & so re-assuring to be put through this test & see that leaning into trust & into the flow is possible.  

I do miss you & this could quickly turn into a soppy blabber dripping with cheese, so instead of recapping all the magic of last few years, I'd like to commemorate the boy who's no more:

I used to wear skin-tight t-shirts and jeans, I used to hate olives & sea food, I used to say 'running' is only acceptable if you're a toddler or running from Nazis with guns, I used to only consider my point of view and judge others mercilessly. I used to be very good in pushing my own agenda through a very ingenious manipulation, I used to worry I was a sociopath incapable of love, only forever seeking fans instead of partners. I used to shave my pubic hair & diet instead of exercise. I used to dislike & write off people for smoking weed or being obsessed with Madonna(who can't sing for shit as we all know).

I used to present to people a carefully curated version of myself because perhaps I didn't know, embrace or stand by the real deal & I used to plot & detonate anything too close to heart because those things make you vulnerable: I used to not understand that to open your heart to another person means opening yourself to being hurt, but choosing trust instead and doing it anyway. I used to...cause then I've met you.

You helped me find myself. Thank you.