Thanks for this weekend.
For some reason, I felt a lot of pressure this weekend. And the thing is: I was inflicting it upon myself.
The pressure was self-inflicted (as all pressure is). And even though I knew it was — all of it, completely self-inflicted — I couldn’t help but notice that there sure was tonnes of it.
There was pressure because there was a lot riding on this weekend.
I know you had stuff on the line, stuff at stake, stuff you were dealing with. Honestly, I didn’t care to ask you. I didn’t really ask you about anything at all. I was all wrapped up in myself.
And I know it was a big weekend for you, too, and I wasn’t really there for you, too much. In the way that I try to be, usually.
But it was a huge weekend for me. And you were there, even when you weren’t. You were there in every second, even when we weren’t together.
So thank you.
For listening and hugging. For joking, and dancing, and thinking.
For what you shared. Your art. What you made — by yourself. You shared your self. Your food. Your booze. Your vibe. Your home. Your ideas.
For some reason, there was lots of dessert, even though I don’t eat dessert.
You’re the best.