Traveling is not something you are good at. It is something you do. Like breathing.

Dear Willem: I’ve been trying to forget about you and our day in Paris for nine months now, but as you can see, it’s not going all that well. I guess more than anything, I want to know, did you just leave? If you did, it’s okay. I mean it’s not, but if I can know the truth, I can get over it. And if you didn’t leave, I don’t know what to say. Except I’m sorry that I did. I don’t know what your response will be at getting this letter, like a ghost from your past. But no matter what happened, I hope you’re okay.

I recognized that the kiss was a door I had walked through.

And if I'm not forgiven, then at least I'm understood.

Stains are even worse when you're the only one who can see them.

I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful.

I don't hate you. I don't think I ever really did. It was just anger. And once I faced it head-on, once understood it, it dissipated. -Mia