How I wish I could determine if THIS—everything that’s happening in between—is an inspiration or just an unnecessary stress. But I’m not even sure what this is called. I’m not even sure what is happening. I have been unsure for the past months and I somehow hope that you bring clarity, assurance and comfort. But I can’t tell you that. I know that I can’t expect anything from what we have (or do we really have something in between?).
I wish we have a term for things like this, because calling it a ‘this’ or an ‘it’ is not fucking enough. In-betweens are more complicated. In-betweens hurt more. In-betweens are more fucked up than they may seem to be. I wish I have the courage to ask you what this really is. But I am not ready to know what this is, where this is heading…
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