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my girlfriend and i are long distance, so we got matching notebooks to keep a journal of our writings for/about each other that we plan to give the other once they’re full. i’ve found it to be an extremely fulfilling practice, we’re creating an archive of our love.
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May 9, 2025

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I wrote my love a letter yesterday, sat on a picnic bench facing the sunset. Watching the colours force themselves through the stubborn clouds, all I could think about is how much better this experience would be with my lover my side. so I wrote to her, not properly as I didn’t have a postcard or even envelopes near by but instead I wrote it in my journal, scanned it, then sent it over to her To read when she was ready to. I love her.
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I always found comfort in putting my feelings into words, and that's especially the case when writing a letter for my beloved. In quiet moments when I just be, my heart is spilt and allowing my soul to pour; a somewhat quiet confession of love, gratitude, and longing.
Everyone has their own love language(es) and one of mine has to be gift giving, my boyfriend being the same as me. So while he indulges in giving with the use of money, I indulge in being more vulnerable with ink and paper.
Spritzing perfume, leaving kiss marks, adding doodles down to making the envelope is all the more to make the letter customized. Personal touches, if you will.
Within my attempts to be heartfelt I hope he can hold a piece of myself in his hands.
Jun 23, 2025
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I recently bought some nice stationary to write letters (I already had a pen and some ink I love). I just sent out my first one and it felt really good. Something about the scratch of the pen on paper, then sending the only copy of my words to someone close to me really hits. I recommend double checking that the envelopes you buy are large enough for the stationary though…

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that water glass on my nightstand i keep forgetting to wash and the shoes i haven’t managed to put away won’t kill me. my apartment is far from belonging in the pages of AD, so why pretend life doesn’t happen here? i don’t mean never picking up after myself, but it’s not the end of the world to leave my makeup laying around my vanity for a few days until i get around to cleaning.
May 9, 2025
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waking up to a chorus of bird song, falling asleep to drunk college boys singing pompeii by bastille wildly off key, reading with the steady staccato of rainfall in the background, feeling the breeze drift across my face while i’m half asleep. the distinction between my space and the rest of the world becomes blurrier. i think i like that.
May 9, 2025