So I'll stop telling you my good news— and you'll stop telling me yours. Like the fact that you got a new job- the one you'd dreamed of since you were young. Like the fact that you moved into a new house, with new friends, and a whole world of hope. Or that you found a new favorite book or artist or song. So maybe you'll pick up tennis again, even though it almost broke you once. You're a go-getter, you're proud, and you never give up. And maybe you'll fall in love with a girl who is nothing like me— and I hope, sincerely, that I never know. And one day, soon, maybe, I won't know a thing about you. Apart from the fact that you and I fell in love a little too deeply and a little too soon. Apart from the fact that we were too young to fully understand what love was. At least I was. At least I was. And I'm sorry for that.
