I met her today.

I met her today. She is more than anything, and I think I have imposter syndrome. What if being with me actually hurts her? I try to understand the things she says—I try my best—but who could tell her what I’m going through? I speak a lot; everyone knows that. But what is it that I say? I cannot tell. She’s been in my life for a month now. It feels as if I want to know her forever. So many facets, so many stories—who could imagine? Not me.

Part of me wishes I could bring her here with me now, but all I can do is write. And this is our story. I got to know her a month ago. It wasn’t much, but her name got me thinking. That’s how it started. I searched for her on Facebook, and if you’ve used Facebook, you know—no one’s ever alone. I found her and sent her a request. She accepted it. Then began what is now being written.

Our first meeting—a secret. Well, it was one until I decided to write about it. We had some coffee. By the end of it, I knew she was the one. I found every reason to meet her. I left work early. I lied to people I’m not supposed to lie to. It’s all been going okay.

We met today after a long time. I wanted to meet her earlier. I’ve lost count—we’ve met a few times before. It isn’t enough, but it will do. We had lunch, a second lunch—it was salty, and I don’t like eating meat that much. After that, we went to the park and enjoyed a conversation.

That’s all I’m going to write today.