62.) “Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind.”

Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind. Love does envy, love does boast, and love is proud. Love isn’t always what you think it is.

It’s patient, but not patient enough to wait til we leave your parents’ house to kiss you. Love is stealing a kiss from your lips when your parents aren’t looking.

It’s kind, but not kind enough to resist teasing you about how clumsy you are, because it’s just so goddamn cute. Love is telling you to watch out for that table, after you’ve already run into it.

Love tries not to envy, but you have no idea how hard it is not to envy the stuffed animal I won you at the fair, because it gets to fall asleep in your arms every night.

Love doesn’t boast, except for every time I mention your name in passing, because then people know that there’s not a person in the world that can make me happier than when I see you smile.

Love isn’t proud, but I can’t say that I’m not proud of the person you were when we first met and the person you are today, first for giving me a chance and second for sticking with me ever since. I’ve watched you grow into the person you’ve always dreamed to become, and there’s no one more proud of you for that than I am today.

Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind.

But love is us.

And I love you for it.

61.) November Rain

The rain pours down from outside my window. No sunrise today, no birds singing—just rain.

I lay here in bed, and all I can hear is the soft pitter patter of the raindrops on my window. How can something so gentle be so loud? It’s a miracle, really. It’s the only thing that keeps me from hearing the aching beating of my own heart.

It’s been like this for months now, the rain. It’s just about the only thing I can count on these days, ever since you left.

"I’m just gonna step out for a bit with a friend, okay? I’ll see you tonight."

But I didn’t see you that night.
I haven’t seen you since.

And now every morning I hope to wake up from this nightmare and see you there beside me.


Because nothing

                            could ever


                                                           the           of 

                                                                 touch     your skin

                                                           the             of 

                                                                 warmth     your smile

                                                           the         in 

                                                                 love     your lips.


                   I miss you.


60.) Nothing.

He looked up at me in a way I’d never seen before, and with the faintest voice he asked, ”What do you do when there’s nothing left?”

Looking out past the ridge, the sun was perfectly poised to set. The sky was painted in perfect hues of pink, orange, violet. The plants and trees in the valley below swayed in the gentle breeze, as if to take one last breath, absorbing what rays they could before the darkness engulfed them.

"What do you do when you’ve lived your whole life in preparation for one moment, and then in the next moment it was all gone? What do you do when everything you’ve ever worked for, everything you’ve ever dreamed of slips away right in front of you? How would you feel if you watched your whole life fall to pieces around you, and you knew there wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it?"

I stood there in silence. I didn’t know what to tell him.

When I looked in his eyes, it was as if I was staring straight through to his soul. I’ll never forget what I saw that day. I looked at him, and all I saw was nothing. It was beyond anything I could ever even begin to comprehend. Inside his mind, his heart, his soul, there was nothing. All I saw that day was the shell of the man I once knew. This was a shell that grew larger and larger over the course of his life, accommodating to the growth of his hopes and dreams. Once the epitome of ambition and optimism, now filled with nothingness, emptiness and the faint hint of despair.

He walked over to the edge of the balcony, looked out toward the horizon, and watched as the sun gently faded away. Then he looked up at me in a way I’d never seen before, and with the faintest voice he asked, ”What do you do when there’s nothing left?”

"Nothing, love," I said, tears running down my face. "You’ve done more than enough. I’m so sorry.."

And then I pulled the trigger.

Day 3.


The alarm rings. 6:40. You shut it off. You rise. You shower. You dress. You leave. The morning goes by in a blur. You can’t remember what you had for breakfast, but it was probably a blueberry muffin and a caramel machiatto, the same thing you order every morning on your way to work. Someone paid for your order this morning, and for a brief moment you pondered why someone would do such a thing. But you put it in the back of your mind as there were more important things to think about, like the Johnson-Maxwell merger you’ve been working on for the past month. You put this at the forefront of your mind and go about your way to work.

The walk is lonely. The city is empty, devoid of what used to be called civil society. After a massive technological revolution, a global genocide took place. Human life was almost completely wiped out at this point, shortly replaced by robots and zombies. Big corporations dominate the world, controlling the robots and zombies that fill the streets, clad in Armani suits and Google glasses, communicating only via small, handheld metal boxes. They were everywhere, mindlessly making their way to their own destinations without cognizance or concern for the beings around them. You push past them and they do the same, keeping the city in a constant state of flux. Such is the flow of the new age.

In such a barren city, few groups of humans remain, scattered far and wide. You walk past a small community of them, just under an overpass on the way to work. They are deemed outcasts, freaks for their backward thinking, as they have shunned the religion that is technology. Instead they go about their lives preaching minimalism and patience, words typically spoken in a hushed tone if only to avoid association with such primitive beings. As you hurry along your way, one of the women calls out to you, asking why you rush past them every day without so much as to acknowledge their existence. I’m late for work, you say, only to be met by her spewing some nonsense about stopping to smell roses, as if anyone has the time to do such a pointless and trivial thing.

The day goes by and you find yourself back at your desk, studying the profit and loss margins from last quarter. Time drags by as you listen to the constant ticking of the clock on the wall behind you, a glaring contrast to the feverish clicking of the mouse and keyboard, instruments of monotony you’re forced to listen to at work every day for hours on end. You begin to wonder what you’re really doing there, why you continue to show up and whether or not you really have it better than that vermin under the overpass. You have to, right? Of course you do. But then again… You think about the zombies that flood the streets, how they’re really not that different from you at all. You all have the same routine, every day, every week, every year until you die. You begin to wonder how things have come to be this way, so monotonous, so repetitive. How did this become the norm, an acceptable way to live? The definition of insanity itself is doing the same thing over and over and over again and expecting different results. You start to contemplate what it must be like to live without technology, without the electrical chains that bind you. Wherever you go, no matter where you are, you must have access to a wall outlet and free wifi. You think about the freedom that comes with not having to worry about any of that. It must be nice. But that’s nonsense. How would you be able to survive otherwise, right? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, they say. But what if the hand that feeds and the hand that strangles are one in the same?

You decide not to give it any more thought, as that kind of thinking is heresy around here. Instead you decide to speculate on why someone would pay for another person’s order and why anyone would stop what they were doing just to smell roses, but that’s when it clicks. The woman that called out to you under the overpass is the same woman that was in front of you in line to get breakfast this morning. But why would she do such an absurd thing? Doesn’t she need the money, especially given her social status? You question why anyone could possibly be so.. so.. altruistic. The very word itself feels ancient to you, as if no one has ever had any reason to use the word in years. But now you’re intrigued. You’re honestly curious about it, so you decide that after work today, you’re going to find out why someone would act so foolishly. You’re going to go back to the overpass and find her so you can ask her yourse-

"Smith! Snap out of it and get back to work!"

Suddenly your supervisor is standing over your shoulder, yelling in your ear.

"Yes sir! I’m sorry, I must have zoned out for a second there," you say as he shakes his head and walks away.

The problem is, now you can’t remember why you zoned out in the first place. You vaguely remember that it was something strange and unique, but you can’t remember how or why. Oh well, you think to yourself. If I can’t even remember what it was, it couldn’t have been that important, right?

Right. You have work to do anyway.

I’m not usually the type to look back on pictures and get all sentimental, but this trip was different. Looking at all these pictures reminds me of different things, and I think it’s important for you to know.

The first picture reminds me that I always smile the biggest because of you. You make me smile in more ways than you can imagine, even when you’re not around (like right now).

The second picture reminds me that I love trying new things, but especially with you. It makes me feel blessed to be able to share all these new opportunities and experiences with the person that means the most to me, and also you’re the cutest when you freak out in excitement.

The third picture reminds me that you make me laugh the most, every time I’m with you. I know you’re probably mad at me for posting a slightly embarrassing picture of you, but let’s be honest, it could have been a lot worse. Also you’re cute when you’re mad like that.

The fourth picture reminds me that I can be myself around you, whether it be making silly faces or using my minion voice or so much more. With you, I’m comfortable in my own skin, and I’m glad you’re the only person in the world that gets to see me at my purest state.

And the last picture is my favorite one. It reminds me that the sun always shines brightest when I’m with you. It warms my heart to know that you’re the one I fell in love with, you’re the one that’s watched me grow from the person I once was to the person I am today, and you’re the one that’s loved me unconditionally from day one. You’re the best, babe. I love you. Happy 29th monthaversary. We’ve got a lifetime to go. <3

59.) A Bridge to Your Soul

There’s 7 billion people in the world. Thats crazy. That’s 7,000,000,000 and each one of us is only 1. Can you even fathom that? That’s like if we were at a beach, and there’s 7 billion grains of sand on that beach and each of us is one individual grain. That’s insane.

I started thinking about this a few semesters ago when I had long breaks in between classes and sometimes I would just sit in the shade in the far corner of the parking lot, facing the street. It always amazed me that so many cars would drive by, and each and every person in those cars had their own story, led their own life. It’s all I can think about now whenever I see a parking lot or a freeway.

7 billion people are living their own life. 7 billion people are experiencing this strange thing called life, just as I am, except totally different. 7 billion people have conscious thought and I guarantee there’s thousands of you thinking the exact same thoughts I am right now. Isn’t that extraordinary, that two people across the world could be thinking the exact same thing at the exact same time, and they would never know it? It’s magical, really.

I guess I’ve always had a fascination with humans and individual existence. That’s why I’ve always loved making new friends. Over time, friends forge lasting bonds, bridges into each other’s minds. I want to know what drives you, what makes you tick. I want to know what terrifies you, what you can’t even bring yourself to think about. I want to know about the scars on your soul, how you got them and how you live with them each and every day. I want to know you, inside and out, better than you know yourself.

I just wish I could know all 7 billion of you out there. Because by the time I get through all of you, maybe- just maybe, I’ll know myself too.

58.) Raindrops

It’s funny how life works, isn’t it? Every moment, every experience is like a raindrop on your window. Just one among the thousands there now in your memory, on the window, billions more to come in time.

Each unique droplet has undergone its own journey to get there, and yet as it rolls down the window it intertwines itself with others, inevitably forming their very own memory, their very own droplet. Each memory, each experience laces itself with another, and another, and another. And with each drop they absorb along the way, they get bigger. Droplets turn into one big glob, they gain momentum as they roll down the window, faster and Faster and FASTER AND FASTER AND THEN- drip. They get to the bottom and they’re gone. Out of sight, out of mind, as a chapter of your life ends.

Over and over and over again, until there’s only one drop left. One small, final raindrop dripping down ever so slowly as your life comes to an end. And what happens after it’s gone? Well it’s only a matter of time before it rains again, isn’t it? Because that’s all that life is, really. Just raindrops.

Day 2.


"It’s not always about you, Tom!"

"Yeah, well maybe this time it is!"

"God, you’re so selfish these days! And you wonder why-"

"STOP. You can stop right there, right now. I’m not gonna let you pull this shit again, Jamie. I’m not gonna let you turn the tables and make me feel guilty for something that’s not my fault."

"What are you talking abou-"

"I’m talking about YOU, Jamie. Have you ever once stopped to think about maybe why I’ve been so selfish lately? It’s because it’s always about you. You’re always right. This is how it happens every time. Every time we get into a fight, you always find some way to pin the blame on me. You never once think about how I feel, what my opinion is. You don’t even want to talk things through anymore. You just find the easiest way to put it all on me and then you expect me to fix it. But that’s not how it works, babe. A relationship’s a two-way street. I don’t know when and why it happened, but one of these days you just stopped trying. And as much as I want to fix it, there’s only so much I can do alone. You gotta be able to meet me halfway, or this thing isn’t gonna work out for much longer."

"Oh my god.. I.. I didn’t even realize. I’m so sorry.."

"Shh, it’s okay.. Part of it is my fault for not speaking up sooner, but it’s just hard to talk to you when you won’t even look me in the eye anymore. There were times when I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it would just make everything worse. I didn’t wanna risk putting any more strain on us, so I thought maybe I could just deal with things and try to fix them on my own. But after awhile, I realized it wasn’t gonna work that way. I began to grow a little resentment for you, for the way you treated me. And the longer I held it in, the worse it got. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish lately. Do you think you can forgive me?"

"Tom.. Call.. ambulance.."

"Jamie!? Jamie, are you okay!? What’s happening to you!?"

"Heart.. heart.."

"911, please state your emergency."

"Oh my god, oh my god.."

"Sir, please calm down. I’m gonna need you to state your emergency."

"Hello!? Oh my god, I need an ambulance right away! I- I think my wife is having a heart attack!"

Day 1.


Haste. The all-too-familiar rush to get out the door.

Every night before he went to bed, Tom set his alarm for 6:30. The only problem with that was, he usually didn’t get up out of bed until 7:30. And the only problem with that was, he usually had work at 8. But today however, was not the usual day.

Every morning before getting out of bed, Tom would close his eyes and make a mental list of everything in his life he should be thankful for. The first thing Tom would usually list off is his health. As a boy, Tom quickly learned the value of good health, for after being diagnosed with leukemia, he watched as his mother slowly wilted away. The second thing Tom found himself thankful for was his hair. Tom couldn’t remember ever seeing his father with a full head of hair, and despite only being a few years older than Tom, his older brother was starting to shed as well. Tom on the other hand was a strapping young man with a full head of short brown hair, ever-tousled just right. The third thing on Tom’s list was his friends. Tom had a group of friends that had been there for him for as long as he could remember. After usually listing off a few more things to be thankful for, Tom would always finish by being thankful for his relationship. But for the past two months, Tom had been dealing with the fact that this entry in his list was now empty.

Shortly after making his list every morning, Tom got dressed and left for work. Tom owned a flower shop on the south side of town, the commercial district. Every morning he was greeted by the scents of an endless sea of flowers and the sounds of his employees already hard at work. Tom usually spent the day overseeing the rest of his employees, floating around and helping out wherever needed. Today they needed Tom to help out in the front, tending to customers and helping them find exactly what they were looking for. Throughout the day, customers would be in and out, some placing orders, some picking up, some just wandering in to admire all the beautiful exotic flowers that were available. It was the usual day, nothing extraordinary by any means. That is, until she walked in.

And so it began.

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