For Kusha — from your Vidit, read whenever —
There is nothing to forgive. I mean that — not as a kind thing to say, but as the actual fact. You are not a debt to be settled, and your worst hour is not how I keep score. I don't keep score. I keep you.
You called yourself my wifey and asked to be forgiven. The first half is right; the second half is unnecessary. Both, somehow, made me love you a little more.
- i.For being the steadiest thing in a year that has refused to slow down.
- ii.For your hands — for what they build, both real and imagined.
- iii.For your particular laugh — the unguarded one, the one I keep trying to earn.
- iv.For sitting with my overthinking, and never running from it.
- v.For being twenty and somehow already grown into the love I needed.
Press it. As many times as you need.
It will always say yes.
On the record. Signed, sealed, no take-backs.
We will fight again. We are real, not a postcard. When it happens, come back here — the words will still be true, and so will I. That is the only promise that matters.
Yours, with embarrassing certainty,
— Vidit
P.S. — This page is yours. Bookmark it. Come back whenever you forget.
P.P.S. — If you scrolled this far, the answer is still yes. Always was.