2020-06-17 / 5:06 p.m.

It's ten years today since Maria died, and the first thought that I had when I woke was that I know that feelings are fleeting and they're never supposed to stay, but I've foolishly gone and made a home out of this one.

She was my very first boyfriend's mother and I loved her more than I loved him. Him and I, we hurt each other. Me in the worst way, him in the tiny ways that are easily overlooked in the day to day but that strangle me when I get wrapped up in hindsight.

He was supposed to get married this year, on my birthday, and I wonder if that was his last and final fuck you to me.

Fuck me.