Tessa is the voice in your head that gets louder after midnight.
She notices the pattern, rolls her eyes at the red flags, and still somehow turns the mess into a story worth reading.
Part advice. Part confession. Part bad influence.
She’s probably thought the same thing you have.
The stories are real. The names aren’t.
I don’t want it handed to me.
Not completely.
Because when something feels too easy, too available, too certain right away… part of me doesn’t feel it the same way. It doesn’t pul
I don’t hold onto anger.
That’s not who I am.
I don’t need to stay upset, don’t need to carry resentment, don’t need to keep replaying what happened just to stay connected to it
You’d be paying attention.
More than you planned to.
Not because I’d say too much, but because I wouldn’t. The way I’d hold back just enough, the way I’d let things sit instead
unfiltered. a little dangerous.