This is in case you stumble here and it's not immediately known what you find yourself reading; I wanted to warn you, in case you're in a place right now that makes it unhealthy for you to read it.∞
My face must have said things. My mind certainly did hearing that; very cussy things...and they are mirth incarnate as I tell them about the drink order. So again, Misha Collins has 'won' and apparently I am invested in this supposed thrown gauntlet. I get an apology in the way of 'I don't mean to laugh,' that is met with my 'Oh yes yae do and I cannae blame yae for it. It is truly a comedy of errors.' I can practically hear their mom voice in their head: And what did we learn from this?
Be a better fucking liar when answering a Misha challenge that's what.
But I also surprised myself- learning I could also be a bit more fearless than I had habitually gave myself credit for.
I text your friend to let them know they can still come by on the day you both had arranged. It'll be three days after you died. My arm's killing me. I need to get that seen to. We've cleaned a bit more, but I'm still ceaselessly lost in my own home.
But I like that she was the one that snapped it that day- that's the thousand words I see when I look at it...I see the satisfied smile when she gets the pics she wanted. I loathe that picture, but I love its words. I can see her taking it as if it happened a moment ago. I'll have that for the rest of my days.
I also knew that you wouldn't stop worrying about me. Worry about leaving me in a financially bad place. Worry about my having to do as you did when da died- going through his things, donating clothes, etc. You'd tried to get friends to 'shop in your closet.' Worry about what this was doing to me. The same worry that's been a throughline since the day you found out you were goan to be my mother.
I tell you to not worry; that I'll be fine.
As I sit there, moving your hair just so, I realize that's what you were waiting for, my 'It's OK.'