Kelly Peacock

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really like Harry Styles and Timothee Chalamat (as we all do), but when it comes to men that I actually have a chance of dating, I have a hard time.

The love that is meant to be yours will find you when you stop looking for it.

Call your mom. Or if you’re quarantined with her, give her a hug.

Wait for the person who opens up your chest and understands that sometimes the butterflies won’t always be butterflies.

I don’t want you to think of me every time you use the polaroid of my naked body as a bookmark.

It doesn’t matter what you decide to do (or not to do) to keep yourself sane while staying indoors – what matters is that you want to feel good and you’re wanting to do something about it.

Whether or not we stay with these people, a part of us will always be tethered to them. 

It’s one of life’s cruel ironies.

We didn’t have anything left to say.

Grieving, praying, hoping, thinking about peace. Peering out our windows and wondering when or if this will all be over soon.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re healing.” Maybe one day I’ll think like that. 

And everything you shared with them becomes distant.