I’m beginning to get to the point in my life that I feel like I’m in control of what I do, and am no longer as clueless as I’d always previously been as to where the hell I’m going—what my direction is, my purpose, my motivation.
I’m finally starting to feel like a real person—a real man, and not the shadow of something that my mother intended me to be that never ended up happening like it was supposed to: a disappointing failure to myself, if no one else. I am my own now, shortcomings and triumphs alike.
If you weren’t in my life anymore, I’d lose a lot of that, without question. You’re my girl; hold onto your ambitions, set your goals, make your plans—I’ll do the same. Just please, whenever you dream, leave a favored pocket somewhere in the back of your mind to tuck me into, as I do you.