Shedding the daily battle of who’s more tired, who’s done the most, who deserves a medal for surviving... Tuesday?
Shedding being his manager, and remembering how to be his Muse.
Shedding the endless Tinder scroll for “Mr Right” (or honestly anyone half decent with emotional availability).
Shedding the dull texts about bread, bins and boilers and nesting instead into conversations that actually make you feel something.
Shedding Netflix nights you numb out too for evenings of soft, sensual touch you look forward to, not panic about because it means you'll have to 'go further'.
Shedding the low-key waiting. Praying for the text, the reply, the sign and instead getting on with your life knowing it gets to feel better than this.
If you smiled, sighed, or felt that little mmhmm in your body… Good.
That’s not coincidence. That’s recognition.