I’d like to write a platonic love letter to my best friend
because she is more deserving of flowery prose and whiskey-fueled declarations of undying devotion
than plenty of the men
who’ve received them
but part of why I value her presence in my life so highly
is that I don’t need to sublimate my feelings into poems
I can just talk to her
like an actual human.
I am so fucking grateful to be writing every day again
I feel just a little bit healthier
like the days I almost drink as much water as I’m supposed to.
I am trying to be kinder to myself:
finally dig the dark nights out from under my nails, let the scum float to the top and be skimmed off, remember that I am best to the world I would have love me if I am best to myself.