I was recently asked if I had a breakup story to share.
This is the story –
When I would close my eyes and think of her, I would see her smile. It forms ever so slowly to where her eyes squint softly, her cheeks begin to glow, and then the tiniest of dimples appear as if to remind you that there is indeed pure beauty in this world.
Her smile more than plants your feet on the ground because it’s made up of empathy, compassion, and the type of selfless love that tells you that you are home.
If you don’t smile when she smiles, you have no heart. Her smile could make your heart ache with comfort.
In this moment she wasn’t smiling.
Her eyes looking down. I was in front of her as she was in front of me. The lady’s back leaning against the wall of her bed, while I sat idle on a stool in the middle of her room.
The only noise that could be heard was a sniffle from her nose, the pensive scratching from my nails, and the lamp’s bulbs radiating energy from being on for too long.
We were just trying to make sense of the last two hours.
I recently wrote this on Facebook. However, I want these words to stay here forever so I’m going to paste the status here. Enjoy –
This is going to be the longest piece I’ve ever written on FB. But I don’t care because these are words I never want to forget.
In the beginning of 2017 I got into a major car accident. The car I was driving barreled into the air and then dropped perpendicular on the freeway: the oncoming cars, the blood dripping down my forehead, blood coming out of my left hand, and the screams on the scene is something I see and hear most nights in my dreams.
I was recently asked to tell an embarrassing story.
This is the story –
Two years ago, the girlfriend at the time and I decided to have a home-cooked meal for our “date night.” We planned it all. We were going to make homemade Vietnamese pho and simply catch up on the lives we were leading.
Couple things. Couple goals. Relationship goals.
All those hashtags.
By the way this wasn’t some gentrified Asian-Fusion pho we (she) made. This was some high-quality dish where her ancestors would’ve been proud.
A few days ago, I received a different type of letter. This student had an inquiry about the fears of rejection & how to accept rejection. It couldn’t come at a better time as schools and colleges have just begun circulating blank check template and (b/c I’m going through a failed project at the moment) & thought it would be best to write my response through a post.
Letter from The Wonderful Student in Florence:
Kathryn – this blogpost is for you! Alright, let’s start this thing!