Jun 19, 2014
(I think back at the times I cried to the point of your exasperation, until you refused to comfort me anymore; the Bublé fangirling moments; laughing at the Ramayana and the Odyssey; the nights I hated everything.
No more sadness, though. By the time I return from my backpacking trip, I’ll have learnt to depend on myself for sustenance. And then I can love with strength instead of weakness.)
Our friendship is a huge clunky interstate train zooming along the railway tracks. The carriages pick up all sorts of funky things along the way – vegetables, elephants, wooden planks. Sometimes they’re colorful and lovely to look at; other times they’re heavy, and the carriages groan and creak a little. But no load has ever derailed us. The carriages never run out of space; they just keep adding on. And the train keeps on going.
3 june / chicago