You And I, Three Hundred Sixty Five Days Ago: A Love Letter


365 days ago. We were with a dozen of your friends on a Friday night, way past my bedtime, and right in the middle of a party, you leaned into my ear and whispered, “I want to see the sunset in Croatia with you.”

“Wh—what?” I stammered.

“What I mean to say is I’m really happy to be with you.”

I blinked. I thought that was a non-conventional way of telling someone you like them. But I also found it sweet. “I’m really happy with you, too.”

I’d always thought I would feel my heart race or get butterflies in my stomach when this moment would come—you know, like in the movies. But surprisingly, everything was still. There were no fireworks, no “foot-popping” moment like in Princess Diaries. But everything was peaceful. And also familiar, and calm, and safe—like everything is as it should be.

“So does that mean we’re like, ‘together’?” I asked. I wanted to stab myself with a spoon—what a way to ruin a moment. 
You smiled. “Yes, I’d love that.”

I sighed. Thank God you didn’t find me awkward. “ you want to grab some nuggets at the Mcdonald’s nearby?”


And off we strolled, hand in hand, laughing at how silly we looked like at 2AM. And also because we were simply...happy.

It’s been 365 days, my Joshua. Thank you for this kind of love I don’t just see in the movies. Thank you for this kind of love that’s real. ❤️

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All photos by our favorite third wheel, Chris Clemente (@clementegallery).