This is for the girl sitting on the edge of her bed, still crying those same tears 365 days later.
The girl driving 80 miles per hour down an unlit backroad at 1:47 a.m., secretly hoping she takes the turn just a little too fast.
The girl confined to the shower floor because the burning water down her back is the most she’s felt in a while.
The girl who would rather feel too much than too little.
It’s okay to go to sleep. It’s okay to turn off the lights at 1 a.m. and let your mind go blank.
You don’t have to stay up crying over him tonight. You don’t need to recount every memory—everything he said, every way he said it, and start over when there’s just one thing you don’t quite remember.
Tonight, you can just go to sleep.
It’s okay to take out that sweatshirt in the back of your closet, put it on, and wear it to class. It doesn’t make it mean anything more or less.
It’s okay to smile at someone new and let yourself be happy because of someone else’s words.
It’s okay to watch your favorite show instead of the one you watched together. It’s okay to listen to the music you like instead of the songs he showed you.
And it’s okay to break down in the middle of the parking lot because you still wish he were walking beside you again.
It’s okay to not cry when you hear that one Phoebe Bridgers song, and it’s okay when your hands start to shake at the sound of his name.
It’s okay not to break your neck at every black truck that passes; it’s okay to not raise your middle finger when you drive past that one street, and it’s okay that it may still sting a little even a year later.
It’s okay to sit and cry and let it hurt till it can’t anymore.
But it’s also okay to move on.