If you’re reading this it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it, so good for me. You don’t know me very well, but if you get me started I have a tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write.
There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just say it, I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make—it was a perfect storm. She said one thing, I said another. Next thing I knew, I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there’s this feeling in my gut: She might be the one.
She’s completely nuts, in a way that makes me smile—highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required. She is you, Karen. That’s the good news. The bad is that I don’t know how to be with you right now, and that scares the shit out of me. Because if I am not with you right now, I have this feeling we will get lost out there. It’s a big, bad world full of twists and turns, and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment—the moment that could’ve changed everything. I don’t know what’s going on with us, and I can’t tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But damn you smell good, like home. And you make excellent coffee; that’s got to count for something, right?
Hank Moody(via innercityforestfire)
That’s how it starts. I’ve been thinking about Us. Us with a capital U. The story of Us. How the fuck do I sum it up? Has it been perfect? Hardly. Any story with me at the centre of it will never be anything less than a big, smiling mess. But here’s what I know for sure - our time in the sun has been a thing of absolute fucking beauty.
The nightmares, the hangovers, the fucking and the punching… the gorgeous shimmering insanity of this city of ours… where for years I woke up, fucked up, said I was sorry, passed out and did it all over again. As a writer, I’m a sucker for happy endings. The guy gets the girl, she saves him from himself, fade to fucking black. As a guy who loves a girl, I realise there’s no such thing. There’s no sunset — there’s just now, and there’s just the two of us. Which can be scary fucking ugly sometimes.
But if you close your eyes and listen for the whisper of your heart… if you simply keep trying, and never, ever give up… no matter how many times you get it wrong. Until the beginning and end blur into something called until we meet again…
And that’s it, I didn’t know how to finish it, because it’s not over, it’ll never be over. As long as there’s you, and there’s me, and there’s hope, and grace.
- Hank Moody(via desperateluffas)