I still sleep with my childhood blanket. Nobody knows. I'm 26. I don't care.

Sometimes I go to a café alone just so I can hear people talking around me. Being alone feels different when other people are nearby.

I have a note in my phone with things I want to tell people. Most of them will probably never be sent.

I saw an old friend today. We walked past each other. I spent the next hour wondering if I should've said hi.

I keep screenshots of messages that made me happy. Some of them are years old. I don't know why I can't delete them.

I sometimes drive around with no destination when I'm upset. I just need somewhere to go that isn't home.

There's someone I haven't spoken to in four years. If they texted me tonight I'd answer immediately. I hate that I know this about myself.

I pretend I'm checking my phone when I'm uncomfortable in public. I'm usually just staring at the same screen.

I miss people I've chosen to cut off. Nobody tells you those two things can exist together.

I don't want a huge life. I want a small apartment, someone who loves me, a dog, decent coffee, and enough money that I don't panic when the electricity bill comes. That's honestly it.