journal twenty-nine.

to think that I didn’t know the sound

of your voice

the pitch of your laugh

the ticks that set you off

and the quirks that you have

just ten months ago

our timelines had not known

each other

but now, you feel like a piece of

home

like you were there

the first time I cried over

spilled ice cream

the first kiss I shared

you know

how his tongue felt so weird on my own

we giggled about that over the phone

you know about the first test

I failed

I told you all about it one sleepover

while you snacked on pecan pie

and I inhaled baked chips

and we braided each other’s hair

while High School Musical played

and Troy and Gabriella sang their first

karaoke song together, some serenade

and we talked about how high school

would be so

cool

we’d be so

cool

we were

we are still

it’s the power of finding

solace in a stranger

how strange, huh

that you were ever a stranger

to me

how now, it would be a lot stranger

if I woke up

without the ability to text you my latest

hot, lukewarm, or cold tea

I’m so thankful for your presence

and I don’t say that enough

when I think of life without you

life sounds a little rough

Published by Brittany Given

Raw and unadulterated — this is how I typically feel things. And when I feel these things I think I feel, I write. My little pieces of comprehension have taken the form of words jumbled together on your screen. A masterpiece? Probably not, but welcome to glimpses of this incredible life I get to experience. I do hope you’ll stick around.

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