Spent the whole day finishing a script. Then I thought I’d hit the gym for an hour. Then revisions. And revisions. Patingi-tinging revisions. And I don’t even know if I still have a job after this month. So that’s a source of anxiety. Then you called and it was sweet even after I freaked out on you yesterday (or was it two days ago?) when my brain was still adjusting to my psych meds (umped the dosage, made me really crazy. Couldn’t get inside a building. It was really that crazy). Apparently you know how to de-escalate. Every time I tell you to stop calling me (ah the drama!), you send a perfectly sensible text message and I’m back again to wanting you (and I don’t even know if you want me, too). Now I’m done with the script, followed your advice (maybe you’re right, what’s the rush), and I’m thinking of you. At four in the morning. After a stressful day. And I’m thinking, you know I might marry you someday. Or not. Or maybe I’d be ruined after this. But I don’t know. It seems like we’re creating a good story. And I usually get a story or two out of my relationships. Maybe I’d write ours someday. Hope it’s going to be long. Not short. Long, bittersweet but I’m hoping it’d be sweet.