My friends initially called you “my lobster,” but I wasn’t ever that big of a fan of “Friends.” I wrote you so many heartbroken, bereft letters, some that I even sent, but by the time you decided that you wanted me back — I had met someone new. I remember my college roommate leaving a note in my room, “The fact that this is such a hard decision to make tells you what your choice is.” And you know what? She was right. You were not my lobster. You were a dozen oysters and I wanted a dozen more.
No posts