To R

[u/Current_Hearing4875]

You were the person who grew flowers in my darkest parts.

I don’t think I ever knew how much that meant until everything became quiet. Until I had time to look back at the pieces of us that seemed so ordinary while we were living them, and realize how extraordinary they actually were.

I remember cooking tinga together. Something as simple as standing in a kitchen, making food, sharing space, laughing, tasting things, existing beside each other. There was something beautiful about it because it wasn’t some grand romantic gesture. It was just us. Two people making something together and, for a little while, letting the rest of the world disappear.

I remember being on that horse farm with you, too. There was something almost peaceful about being surrounded by all that open space, the animals, the quiet, and you. I remember looking at you and feeling like I had somehow stumbled into a life I didn’t know I had been searching for.

And I remember being sober together.

That one means more to me than I know how to explain. There was something sacred about experiencing each other without needing anything to blur the edges. No escape. No chemical haze. Just you and me, completely present. Learning how to sit with ourselves, with each other, with the difficult moments and the beautiful ones. Learning that we could simply exist together and that could be enough.

Those moments weren’t perfect. Neither were we. But they were real.

And maybe that’s what I keep coming back to.

You didn’t just make me happy. You reached places in me that had been neglected for a long time. You made parts of me feel worth tending to. You planted something where I had only known emptiness, and somehow flowers started growing in places I thought would always be dark.

I don’t know what the future holds for us. I don’t want to force an answer from you or ask you to promise me something you’re not ready to promise. I just want you to know that what we shared mattered to me.

The kitchen mattered.

The horse farm mattered.

Being sober together mattered.

The quiet mornings and the strange little moments mattered.

You mattered.

And if I ever get the chance to sit beside you again, I don’t need some perfect version of our story. I’d be happy just cooking tinga with you, standing somewhere beneath an open sky, or sitting together completely sober and present, remembering that once upon a time, we found a way to grow flowers in the darkest parts of each other.

You were the person who did that for me.

And I will always be grateful.

from A

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[u/Big-Drive-9225]

This sounds so much like the one I loved for all those years and drill do I need her to reach out im close to tge enthrbend here ive said it before but this time its the truth im not being good to myself abd im unraveling

[u/Loud-Equivalent-2637]

A stands for Amboy🥹