iMessage
I don’t know why I still think about you. Maybe it’s the way you carried yourself like the weight of the world belonged on your shoulders. Maybe it’s because beneath all that toughness, I always suspected there was something softer hiding underneath. You were never subtle. Everything about you was loud, your presence, your confidence, your questionable relationship with jewelry. I used to pity you. Maybe I was the fool for that. You always had a plan, even when I didn’t understand it. You hated flying, hated being told what to do, and somehow still managed to show up when people needed you. I wonder sometimes if you ever think about me. Probably not. But if you ever find this, just know: I still love it when a plan comes together.
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