[She hates this. Why can't she be allowed to keep all the things she hates about herself hidden away? She hates and she aches, a little ball of internalized frustration whirling endlessly around itself because--]
Forgive me. I am a little homesick myself, I suppose. I do not mean to rain on what must be the happiest morning either of us have had in a while.
[She's just a little awful and would like to see something familiar as well, despite telling herself she knows better. It's fine, she'll be fine. She breathes, and tries to smooth that annoying knot of feeling out.]
When would you like to do this? Has he been told about me?
no subject
Of course I am.
[She hates this. Why can't she be allowed to keep all the things she hates about herself hidden away? She hates and she aches, a little ball of internalized frustration whirling endlessly around itself because--]
Forgive me. I am a little homesick myself, I suppose. I do not mean to rain on what must be the happiest morning either of us have had in a while.
[She's just a little awful and would like to see something familiar as well, despite telling herself she knows better. It's fine, she'll be fine. She breathes, and tries to smooth that annoying knot of feeling out.]
When would you like to do this? Has he been told about me?