And do I ever have them. Yeeash.

I have all these posts in my drafts, half written expressions from my time with Sweet boy. Some sexy, some shmoopy, some hopeful but all of them about him and the strange online us that we were, and the hopes I had for the future. At least from my perspective.

They are hard to read and even harder to delete. I know the advice I would get is “Delete them!”, but I’m not quite ready for that, and maybe I won’t be. They are my feelings, trapped in time – I can feel my excitement, lust and affection. And hopes. Those great and terrible hopes (that still aren’t 100% squashed, because I am a chump).

I deleted a blog that I had made just for him last week. I wish I hadn’t now. I didn’t need to. It was private, and again, a moment in time that held my feelings. Like a museum display. In my mind’s eye I imagine a little plaque on it “Feelings of Becca. Rare expressions of a rebel heart caught in the wild.”