She is not “my girl.”
She belongs to herself, and to all of the world. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.
How much more blessed can I be?"
I’m at that awkward age where half my friends are engaged or having babies, and the other half are too drunk to find their phones.
And I’m just here having an existential crisis