Pictures of You Pt. 2

I woke up the next morning and pretending not to be hung over, I told my mom about it.

"So, we still love each other."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"So what's going to happen? Are you back together?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe we will be. I think so."

She smiled and then we ate breakfast together. She always thought Peter and I were meant to be and that we'd end up together.

I sent him a Facebook message later that day:

“I'm just writing because I want to tell you that you should be honest. I think we both have to be honest. I know it's hard, but we both have to do it because what do we have, if not the truth? I will love you until my heart stops.”

In retrospect, it's a ironic and hypocritical that I would encourage someone else to be honest, when my modus operandi was to lie about my feelings to everyone, especially myself. But maybe, my subconscious was wiser than I gave it credit for. Even though I addressed that letter to him, I was writing to me.

I spent the next few days going back and forth between feeling elated because we were still in love and on the verge of tears because we were still in love.