Also I've decided that in January, when I come back for the spring semester, I'm going to start therapy.

Not only do I want to deal with my anxiety which is becoming a bigger and badder part of my life, but if I'm serious about wanting to move (and I am) then I need to handle it better than I did last time.

Because moving means being away from my core support system. And I'll have Oregon Girl, but it's not fair to depend on her solely. And that would be really unhealthy and destructive.

So, I'll need to depend on myself. And a therapist would, I hope, help me develop the tools I need to make this potential life change a good experience.

I'm hopeful. Scared, definitely. But I am very serious about considering moving. And therefore I need to make sure that it's something that I, myself, can handle properly.

Another Sappy Best Friend Post

"It's very important, at this point, for everyone to know where they stand. It's important to me that she [Oregon Girl] knows that Best Friend is the most important person in my life. That there are things Best Friend knows that she doesn't. Because that's how it should be at this point."

Something that I said to a friend of mine earlier this week.

I know Best Friend knows how important she is to me, but even then I don't feel like I tell her enough how much her presence in my life means to me. How, even when everything hurts, I am comforted by her. No one knows me better. No one loves me quite the way she does.

When she travels an hour and a half (one way) on an evening when she has work the next day to see me. When she texts me more than usual, not just checking up on me but distracting me with benign (IMPORTANT) conversations. Makes me CDs. We make plans to see each other soon.

All of that is helping me more than I could tell her. And knowing that she needs me too: that it's good for her well-being as well as mine to do these things.

I accused her a year ago for sometimes phoning it in, for sometimes not trying as hard as I do in regards to supporting each other. And I regret saying that. It was a mistake. I was wrong. I'm so so sorry.

No one supports me better than you do.

And I can't wait to see you, and I can't wait to see where life takes us, and I can't wait to be at each others' sides every step of the way.

Still sad. But it's a manageable sadness, as wrong as that is to say. This sadness gets tucked into a special corner of my heart. I know it's not going away anytime soon. I know it's there. But I don't have to stare it in the face everyday. 

Being away from you is never "easy." In your words, I miss you everyday, all the time. And that's what this constant sadness is. Your absence. 

And while I *refuse* to let your absence rule my life (forgive me, my love) and I *refuse* to not be happy and enjoy MY life, that little sadness will always be a twinge. Tucked away. But still there. 

Know that I'd rather feel that sadness than nothing. It's a worthwhile sadness and I will own it proudly. 

Won't let it define me, but I will own it. 

In my dreams you and I, living in the same place, go to see The Fault in Our Stars as our first official date.

Looking back, it looks as though I don't write about her nearly as often as I wrote about my past loves. But that isn't true.

I write to her. Because more than anyone else that I've been with, she loves my writings. They make her smile, they make her proud, and she loves seeing that part of me.

More than anyone else I've been with, I want to show her everything. And I do. 

And something about her and I feels a little more... real. Sacred. And so I can never quite find the words, unless I'm writing for her sole audience.

It's different. We'll see what comes of it. 

I do write about her though. Head over heels for a girl who loves my words. 

I want so badly to ask if you're okay, but I know the answer.

You're not. Because I'm not.

You texted me at midnight last night.

"I miss you." 

You're not okay. 

But I know you need to pretend to be strong and you don't like showing me the cracks, for fear that it'll hurt me or open up the wounds even further, for us both. But I'm already hurt, my love... and I don't need to ask if you're okay to know how much this hurts. 

Sometimes

Sometimes even going through the day-to-day motions exhaust me
and Sometimes coming home and remembering that this is My house and not Ours
is enough to drop my energy straight through the floor.

Sometimes I get a text from you in the middle of the night
and when I read it, I cry because I can feel your anguish

and Sometimes I have to take a deep breath and remember to take this one day at a time
remember that if this is meant to be it will work out
even though that's months away and there are too many puzzle pieces to obsess over
one day at a time

one day at a time Without You.

I can do it.
I will do it.

but Sometimes that thought is too much for me to bear

Without You.

So nice to see the way you melt into me once you're comfortable. Once you let your guard down. How around the best friend and the roommate you show without question that we are still, unquestionably, the package deal.

I love you, I love you.

No words for the future of this. All I have is the tiniest flicker of hope. And reaching inside of us both to find a big vat of faith.