I think that's what I'm starting to realize. My mantra lately has been, what's the worse that could happen. This time I know the answer: I get rejected, I fall into the depth of despair, and move forward with the plan to end my life sooner rather than later.
If love is unachievable, then I don't know what my life looks like.
I don't know what I'm doing in Seattle.
I'll still plan as though I'm going there, but it can't be for love. This makes the case for splitting the summer in Seattle.
I don't have any evidence in my own personal life that romantic love is worth the risk. I think it was only ever meant to be a nice to have. But somehow it got distorted.
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