I hung out with a friend yesterday who I haven’t seen in a while and who was eager to tell me that she’s been catching up on my blog. She wanted to hear all about the Yankee. And she said specifically that from the blog it sounds like he likes me more than I like him.
I look at the Yankee and I’m fairly certain I’m going to break his heart one day, and it kills me.
But I have to trust that he has as much agency in deciding to spend time with me as I do in spending time with him.
So the little part of his heart that he’s etched out for me, I’m going to enjoy living there for as long as I can and put this anxiety to rest. Because I like him. And whatever comes after that, well, worrying about it won’t change anything anyway so I might as well go outside and play.