So I was up in the attic doing some spring cleaning, you know? Dust everywhere, like a freakin' dust storm! Anyway, I'm going through boxes of random stuff that just got shoved up there over the years. And bam…what do I find?! A love letter. Yeah, a real one with drawings and fancy penmanship in these swirling scripts you'd see in those old movies! But here's the kicker: the damn thing wasn't for me. It was to my partner from... someone else!!! How or why it's even there is beyond me??and the dating on it? Let's just say it lines up with when they started getting all cold and distant like we were perfect strangers suddenly living under one roof.

Man, this discovery hit me like a ton of bricks. Every 'I love you' from back then feels kinda fake now; it's like watching a rerun of a show where I thought I knew all the plot twists only to find out there was a whole other story running parallel; Are memories even worth keeping if they’re tinged with betrayal? What's more unsettling is thinking how blind I was (just sailing through life while this whole dramatic subplot unfolded)… sure as hell makes ya question what reality you were actually living in! Like, for instance, remember that trip we took to Jamaica? Yeah, all smiles and lovey-dovey on camera but damn… behind those sunglasses I swear there's another story staring right at me...

OK sure: we have moved past that stage now; we're apparently stronger than ever before (ha!) but who even knows right?! Sometimes life feels like an endless loop: questioning whether you're living your truth or playing out someone else's script!! There's something about finding words written for your love by someone else that shakes you hard… harder than anything ever did before... It's such a mind-bending revelation without any clear answers swaying between incredulity and rage which somehow meet somewhere across everything leaving nothing but endless questions?!?!

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