Tag: love

When Depression Creeps Up

a blog post I never published from September 23 about my depression, my now ex-boyfriend, and my best friend in college

Lately, there’s been this emptiness that’s been creeping up on me. It’s familiar. It reminds me of senior year of high school and the nights I spent still, staring at the ceiling feeling nothing for hours. Breathing is hard. My breaths feel long and intentional. When I exhale it feels as though my insides are quivering. Anxiety? Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. I don’t want to self-diagnose. What if I stopped breathing. I shouldn’t think like that.

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Asking A Boy Out

I’m writing to you all in a state of panic. I have the total hots for this upperclassman, Charlie, and my feelings for him have only gotten stronger since we began talking at the start of summer break. Although I know that we’ve discussed the prospect of going out on a second date, and have had conversations that have stretched over hours, I can’t help but feel as though I still don’t hold his interest. There will be little spurts where he pays me a flirty compliment, or implies a slight crush, but I can’t help but look for subtext in every text he sends. It’s almost as though my brain doesn’t want him to like me back.

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A Gen Z Love Story

I’ve had the Tinder dating app on my iPhone tease me for a while now. Although I thought I’d given up swiping left and right all together, one boring evening I tapped it open to see who I’d find. I was casually browsing when I’d stumbled upon a familiar face. The curly golden hair, the sculpted jaw, and the soft smile– it was none other than the stunning boy from my first semester psychology class, Charles E. Stetson. His blue eyes gazed into mine through my cellphone screen. What was I to do: swipe left and avoid the possibility of rejection all together, or swipe right and take my slim chances of being liked back? Nervously, I pull his picture to the right. My heart thumps as I let go. Finally, a breath of relief. We matched.

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Please Break Up With Me

My feelings for my boyfriend have absolutely perished. Currently, I’m at the airport waiting to board my flight back home to New York after a successful freshman year of college, and I’m arguing with my boyfriend, Marlowe, about something that happened last night. Actually, calling it “arguing” would be a stretch considering I give no f*cks about the conversation he’s trying to have with me. He’s essentially been talking at me for the past 2 hours in absurdly long paragraphs.

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I Want A Second Date

A month ago, a boy asked me out for coffee. I take that back. Not just any boy. I’m talking about the most perfect mold of a human being that I’ve ever laid eyes on: Charles E. Stetson. For context, this boy was the boy in my first semester psychology class whom I wrote extensively about in November for being so freaking attractive (See my¬†…To my Future Husband blog post). A true prince. Tall with curly blonde locks, perfectly chiseled features, and pale blue eyes that could make any girl melt. So forgive me for essentially liquefying into a pool of water when he asked me out.

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To My Future Husband…

This post goes out to Charles E Stetson, the man of my dreams. He doesn’t know it quite yet, but we are very much destined to be with each other. What a beautiful, beautiful human. Every psych class, he sits two tables away from me and my eyes couldn’t feel more blessed than they do looking at his curly hair, glasses, and pullover sweater with the collar of his button down poking out.

He’s the one.

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