Stranger Danger

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Stranger Danger

Home » Archives for February 2025

I went back on Hinge for a week, and it didn’t take long to realise that it was probably the last time I’d ever download the app—at least, I hope so. I know I’m way too young to feel too old for dating apps, but somehow, I do. And honestly, the idea that if I miraculously found “the one” on there, I’d have to tell people it was because of a prompt he copied from TikTok? Not exactly the meet-cute I envisioned. Maybe that’s a silly reason to write off an entire way of meeting people, but oh well.

I actually met up with a guy this time around, he told me to meet him at the club after my Valentine’s dinner with my girls and he spent the night making jokes about my Javanese background, hitting on girls with his friend and turning his back to me. When I got home, he expressed how sorry he was for not being present and how he’d like to take me out to the dinner properly. I did not take up the offer. Dating apps are my personal hell. 

Thinking back on my time on the apps (starting at 16 or 17), I reflected on the different people I’ve talked to and the very few I’ve actually met in real life, four, to be exact. One of them was from Finland, and though we never met, we kept in touch for years. They were all short stories in my life, reminders that not everyone is meant to stay, but they can still leave an impact. Interestingly, most of them were English and white. Maybe that says something about my type. Or maybe Englishmen are just more likely to take things off the app and meet in real life?

Then there was Eaton, English, my age, olive skin, green eyes, soft brown curls, and a bright smile. We matched on Hinge not long after I became single. Lou and I were rotting in bed, smoking watermelon-flavored vapes in her apartment in Angel, London, when I decided to message him. Instead of something normal, I sent a voice note screaming, “HI EATON!” at the top of my lungs. No idea why, but I figured if that was too weird for him, he wasn’t worth my time. One thing about me? I like a very silly man.  

He texted back, “HI VIVI!” and said he’d scream too, but he was currently at the office. Solid response. He asked me to meet him at a pub, I wish I remembered where because I’d love to go back. All I know is that it was somewhere in Hackney. Lou and I walked the entire way there, which felt like hours. But we love our long walks, that’s all we do when I visit her in London. When we finally arrived, we spotted Eaton from afar. Lou let me greet him alone, kissed me goodbye, and left. As I walked toward him, he quickly looked down at his phone, pretending not to see me, which I found oddly sweet.  

We sat outside under a tree in the pub’s garden, the sun still out. He was a consultant, his girlfriend had recently cheated on him, and he was throwing a party that weekend, one I should “definitely” come to. He also lived in a super charming flat with roommates. When it started to rain, we moved inside. The pub’s interior had the vibe of an old hunting lodge, dark wood, a fireplace, football playing on the TV while old English men watched intently. We drank more wine, a beer. The conversation was easy, we laughed a lot. By the time he asked if I wanted to have dinner at his place, we were already tipsy. He claimed to make a *really good* aglio olio pasta. I, of course, agreed.  

We stopped at the shop for ingredients, then headed to his flat. Well-decorated, Scandinavian-style furniture, a record player. Boys with taste. He started cooking while I leaned against the counter, watching him. He looked incredibly handsome doing it. One of his roommates came home, an equally lovely guy who knew how to keep a conversation. Eaton wasn’t lying—the pasta was *really* good.  

Then it hit me. Aglio olio is basically just garlic. *A lot* of garlic. And I planned to kiss this gorgeous man. Were we about to have the stinkiest first kiss ever? Absolutely. And it didn’t matter, he had garlic breath too.  

He was holding my hand, looking at my rings when he gave me *the look*. You know the one—slight squint, parted lips, like they’re either trying to hold in a fart or are extremely hungry and horny. He kissed me, and next thing I knew, clothes were off. At some point, he made me stand in front of a mirror, which I didn’t love. I know a lot of women enjoy it, but I’m too self-conscious. I’ve noticed men seem to enjoy it more, almost like they’re admiring themselves. A power thing, maybe?  

Anyway, I went home after. He made some comment about having work early—classic. But I wanted to leave anyway. I wanted to see Lou. I hate when they assume we always want to stay.  

I saw him a couple more times, including at his party, the one I bought tickets for. In hindsight, I think he didn’t really care if I came, he just needed to sell more tickets. But it was a fun night, house music, Lou and I danced until morning. Eaton and I didn’t spend much time together, but at one point, I sat down on a couch, and he appeared beside me. The room was dark and humid, music blaring. We didn’t say much. He asked if I was having a good time, I said yes. Then I told him, “I could fuck you right now.” His eyes widened. I didn’t go home with him.  

I liked Eaton. If I lived in London, I probably would’ve developed a massive crush on him. The crazy in me already did. But it would’ve been a disaster, he clearly wasn’t over his ex, and I would’ve suffered for it. Instead, I went home, yapped about him to my girls for a bit, and moved on. We have mutual friends, but I doubt I’ll ever see him again. He was a breath of fresh air after ending a complicated relationship and reminded me that there are hot, English guys out there who can also take you out on cute dates. 

Then there was Gregory. 

We met on Raya in 2024. He was a decade older than me and an actor turned director. Of course, English but with a middle eastern background this time. I think the only person I liked on the app apart for the super famous people on there that I liked just cause it would be super cool if they liked me back. We started texting right away and hands down probably one of the funniest man I have ever spoken to. I was literally laughing my head off. He started aggressively sexting me right away which I didn’t really care for but I just went with it. 

Me being me, I did a super deep dive on the internet to see what he was about. Creepy, I know but I am so good at it, I should be hired by the secret services. Nothing alarming but it was interesting to see him act different roles. We texted a lot about cinema and I learned a lot about it through him. Matter of fact, he had just released a short film that he wrote, directed and played in and still to this day is one of my most favourite films. He shared the one he was working on at that moment and even asked for my opinion on music and edits like I would have any idea of what I was talking about. He made me read screenplays and ask me to promise to not share it with anyone and that I was the only one with an extra copy. Which not gonna lie, made me feel special.

We finally got to meet when I went to London to meet Lou again. I asked him if he wanted to come to the museum with me but he said that he had just watched Perfect Days so he was dedicating his day to deep clean his whole apartment. But, he proposed that I should come over for tea after my visit. He had told me prior that he had sworn celibacy for 4 months as he believes sperm retention is optimal for concentration and for manifestation. Award season was coming up and he had to release this new movie so he had to keep his juices until then. “No naughty time”, he said. I could do without the baby talk, but okay I guess. Men in their 30’s are so cooky, (refer to the “Men in their 30’s” tale). 

I rung his doorbell. “I feel like a teenager,” I said as he opened the door, “showing up to random man’s house I met on the internet”. He laughed and let me in. His flat was gorgeously decorated, classic and pristine, Perfect Days clean. He did in fact make me tea and we sat on his couch, to talk about the same things we had already talked about. He saw the Murakami book I was reading peaking out of my handbag and he said “you’re reading Murakami too? I am too right now, I love his work!” Of course, I knew this. He had expressed that on a podcast I listened to while doing my investigative work. But I’m not that crazy guys, I too am a big fan of Murakami, I was genuinely reading the book, I promise. I may have stalking tendencies but I am not a dick sucker, don’t get it twisted. 

He showed me the short film he was working on again and asked me for my opinion again, maybe he got off from the praise he got from me so he had to hear it again. He rested his hand on my thigh as we were watching it. This made me feel things. When we were done, he asked me if I’d like to lie down, I nodded and he gently guided me to his bedroom. We lied there for a bit before he kissed me. “I thought we weren’t being naughty?” I asked, “As long as I keep it in”. I enjoyed looking out his window, he had a garden, I liked how I felt the sun on my skin as he wrapped himself around me. 

He’d stop in between thrusts and start doing breathing exercises which made me want to laugh real hard, he’d shut his eyes real tight and really concentrate. “Sorry darling, it’s not easy”, he said out of breath. I couldn’t believe this was real life. This man was taking his no-nut challenge to the next level. But I liked him enough as a person to put up with his weirdness. I didn’t stay the night, Lou picked me up from his house and we walked to a Thai restaurant where I told her all about it. 

I saw him a second time before I left back to Paris and we continued to keep contact but I got bored from the incessant sexting where I asked him if he would talk to me the same if I were his age. He didn’t quite like that so he blocked me and we never spoke ever again. 

One person stood out, Here is that story. 

Jamie

I was nineteen and just starting my second year in university. It had been six years since I was last in Whistler. Back then, I was visiting a private boarding school I had earned a scholarship for—an opportunity that was taken away by my stepfather, who couldn’t stand the idea of losing control over me. But life has its own way of unfolding, and so I finished high school in Bali and then chose to live and study in Paris. This time, I was visiting my best friend Callais and her family for Christmas, who have embraced me as one of their own. To me, they are my real parents, and I respect them just as I would my biological ones. As Canadians, they take Christmas seriously and I have enjoyed being apart of their traditions all these years. We were staying in their cabin in the midst of the pine trees, the whole place covered in thick snow. We spent our days in front of the fire place looking out the window, there was something incredibly comforting about being wrapped in velvety warmth while looking at the never ending horizon sometimes covered in ominous fog. 

We’d also go down to the Village located at the base of Whistler and Blackcomb mountains, an incredibly cute place covered in Christmas lights and Hallmark-y shops that sell candied apples, hot chocolate and Christmas sweaters. We’d have lunch at Fairmont Chateau Hotel where families would sit around and have après-ski lunch and enjoy comfort food and good wine as children ran around and played in the big space. I didn’t know how to ski so I spent some mornings by myself in the cabin, trying to do my school work.

One night, while Callais and I were cozied up in our room when we somehow decided that we should make me a tinder profile. I do not recall how the conversation even started but before I knew it we were picking what photos I should use and then swiping through profiles. After a couple of minutes, we were presented with Jamies’ one, yes Jamie but plural. A white boy with boyish charm, big bright blue eyes and dark hair. He looked like those boys on Wattpad book covers. I was delighted to see that he too swiped right on me. We began our conversation, I found out that he was my age, an American from Washington State who drove to Whistler for a few days to ski with his friends. He was funny, witty and seemed intelligent. I didn’t think I was going to meet up with anybody but I wanted to meet him. Callais thought that I should too, however we had an issue. Her dad being overprotective would have never let me. We had to come up with a plan. We decided that he would be my friend Charlotte’s cousin and that I met him when he visited her in Paris in the spring. He happened to be in town as well and we wanted to hang out. I told Jamie about his new identity which he gladly accepted and said that he could finally use his years as a theater kid to use. I contacted Charlotte to make sure she knew, so that if we ever had to call her up to prove this, she would know what to say. We were at the Fairmont Hotel when I asked the parents if I could go meet this guy who I totally knew. Callais’s dad looked at me dead straight in the eyes and said: “he better not be some boy you met on tinder or something”. My heart dropped but I kept my cool and reassured him that I would never go on Tinder in the first place. I could go under one condition: he would drop me off and would have to meet him first. I had to agree. 

We planned to meet at a coffee shop in the village, dad drove me in his truck, I was so nervous the whole drive but also bubbling with excitement. We arrived a little earlier, Jamie walked in 5 minutes later and we greeted each other with a hug and acted like this wasn’t our first encounter. I asked him how he was doing and how it was nice to see him again. Surprisingly, Cal’s dad didn’t ask to many questions and told us to have a good night. We walked out of the coffee shop and walked a little until he couldn’t see us anymore. We looked at each other and bursted out laughing. We couldn’t believe how good we were at acting like we had already already met. We were both a little shy and he admitted that he was nervous but was glad we found the time to see each other. 

It was snowing a lot and the Village truly looked like a movie scene. We walked around and asked the normal questions when first meeting somebody. I felt comfortable right away. He was very funny and knew right off the bat how to make me laugh. We decided to go and have drinks and dessert at a nice cozy restaurant. He told me about his parents and his sister and funny little anecdotes about them. I suggest we get a cocktail and he expressed that he has never ordered a proper drink at the bar before because of the age limit in the U.S. So naturally, I said that we should get sloshed. I do not recall how many drinks we ended up ordering but we did in fact get drunk. I’m pretty sure we ordered the lava cake but whatever it was, it was delicious. He got the bill while he left to the bathroom, which in hindsight was a really gentleman-like thing to do for a 19 year old. We left the bar giggling away, running around the village like two little kids. It must have been freezing cold but I do not remember ever being cold, I felt warm. It is not a good look to smoke cigarettes in North America, so I was reluctant when I expressed I would have loved to have a smoke right now, what if he’d be turned off by my nasty habit and judge me for it like many Americans would. He turned to me and said “same” and in that moment I felt seen. We kind of looked at each other and knew that we had to make it our mission to get cigarettes. “I know a trick that always works,” he said “you offer someone a dollar in exchange for a cig and they always give it to you. Watch.” At that moment a group of Australians was stumbling towards us, loud and intoxicated. Jamie walked with confidence towards them and like planned offered them a dollar for a cigarette. “Ah no, that’s fine keep your money” “Are you sure?” “Yeah of course, here you go!” “Thanks man, appreciate it!”. He turned to me and gave me a cheeky smile, I do not recall if he got us two cigs or we just shared one. But it hit the spot and we were even tipsier than we already were. One is obviously never enough, so we looked for smoke shop and were lucky enough to find one. He bought us a pack with a little house on it, that I later found out he kept with him for years. We sat on a bench outside and kept conversing, I know this is a common thing to feel but I felt like I knew him already.

It felt like we would be best friends in school, that if I grew up in America he’d be in the basketball team and I would have so super American extracurricular activity as well and we’d meet after practice and sit on the bleachers right in front of the huge field everyday, just him and I eating gummies and smoking JULS before he’d drive me home in a beat up car right in time for dinner. My mum would know him well already and would ask him if he’d like to join, sometimes he says yes. We’d hang out some more in my room, pretending to do homework but we’d just talk about anything and everything. I sit on the bed and him on the floor, resting his back against the leg of my desk or my bed. We’d secretly have a crush on each other but we both end up dating different people instead of giving us a chance out of fear that it’d ruin our relationship if we took it there. Then somehow on grad night he’d drive to my house on an impulse and scream my name on my front yard and it’s raining, and I’d open the windows of my bedroom and ask him what the hell he was doing as he confesses his love for me and beg me to give it a chance, I’d come down and kiss him under the rain.

I wish I could remember everything we said to each other, and even though I have amazing memory, I really cannot remember much, all I could remember is all the different feelings that I felt that night. So much excitement, happiness and comfort. Or snippets of his rosy face and the condensation that comes out of his pink lips when he spoke about something he was passionate about. 

We knew that we had to leave each other soon, I had a 10 pm curfew and he had to drive back home early in the morning. “I have to go I said, I don’t want to get in trouble.” So he walked me to the taxi spot, “Well, it was really nice getting to know you.” “Yeah, it was.” He opened the door for me and we both stood there again and hesitated. But, I just smiled and got in the cab as I watched him watch me drive away. 

We exchanged numbers, texted and called a few times, fantasising about seeing each other again, where I’d show him Paris and he would drive me around his city. But obviously the conversation started to die out. I never got to see him again, we were both too broke to see each other and eventually started new relationships of our own. But I thought about him a lot over the years and wondered what he was doing or what could’ve been. 

This was a story I wouldn’t have mind sharing with others if we ever got together even though it all started on Tinder. 

Sometimes, the song that played at the bar we stopped by at comes up and I smile to myself at the sweet thought of that night. 

Bali, February 2025

Letter to my daughter

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Letter to my daughter

Home » Archives for February 2025

Did you know that when I was still in your Uti’s womb, I was already carrying the egg that would one day become you? Isn’t that crazy? You’ve been a part of me since before I was even born. I’ve carried a piece of you everywhere I’ve ever been.

Cah Ayu.

I think about you often. Even though I don’t know if we’ll meet in this lifetime, I keep you in mind when making many of my life decisions. I want to be as ready for you as I can be.  

Every mother I’ve met tells me the same thing—you can never truly be ready for a child. You’ll never know what to expect. It changes everything. But still, I want to give you everything you need—the right education, the chance to see the world, the opportunity to try anything that sparks your curiosity. A pretty dress for a special occasion. More than anything, I want you to feel seen, heard, and cherished. I want you to know you can always come to me, that you will always have a home in our family. I want you to be happy and healthy.  You would be my whole world, nduk. And that terrifies me. I fear that the love I would have for you would be so vast, so consuming, that it would change me. I fear the lengths I would go to out of love for you.  

Your Uti has always told me that I was a great blessing to her and that, in her eyes, a child is the greatest gift one can receive. Even though your Akung left us very early, Uti made sure I had everything I needed to be happy and to grow into a good person.  You would love your Uti so much—she is full of life, young at heart, and has a warmth that lights up everyone around her. She is the embodiment of the sun, radiating kindness and joy. With the purest heart and unwavering values, she raised me in a home where love was at the centre and trust meant everything. She always believed that I knew what was best for myself, giving me a strong sense of independence from a very young age.  And I have no doubt that she would love you even more than she has ever loved me—and I would be perfectly okay with that. Just the thought of her meeting you for the first time brings me to tears. I can see it so clearly—the way she would hold you, the love in her eyes, the pure adoration in her embrace. I almost feel like I might need to bring you into this world so that she could experience that. 

She had me at twenty seven years old, only two years older than I am now, which is crazy to me because I still feel like a little girl most of the time. I enjoyed the fact that she was still young raising me, we did plenty of fun activities together: She’d make my barbie’s clothes from scratch, we’d bake cookies (your Akung would finish them in one sitting while watching a boxing match on TV). We spent every single morning on the beach and I had three sausage dogs that followed me everywhere I went. She supported my obsession with taxis and sometimes would surprise me with a ride to school in one because I loved the smell of them so much. We were very close and many thought she was my big sister. We still are and you may see us fight and scream a lot but she truly is my hero and my example. 

From a very young age your grandma worked so hard to support her family. She moved out of her small Javanese village to Bali to find work and made it her main goal to be independent and help her siblings have opportunities she couldn’t have. Her work ethic and her drive truly paid off because she was able to not only give herself experiences she wouldn’t even dream of as a little girl but also give me the most incredible life and made me the first person in our family to study abroad despite coming from true poverty.

I’ll let her tell you more about her life as I believe this is something she should do instead of me. You’d be amazed about all the things she has been through and how she is able to stay the most positive person you’ll ever meet. Your grandma is a force majeur. 

Your Akung passed when I was just a little girl, I had just turned 4 years old. You know even though I was so little, I still remember the amount of love I felt for that man. He was everything to me, words cannot describe how much I loved him. He brought me so much comfort and he made me feel so safe. When he was suddenly taken away from me, I didn’t really understand what was happening and I felt a void, a void that I was not able to replace with anything else. As much as death is the only inevitable thing and it would happen anytime, I always fear that you have the slight chance to lose one of your parents, either me or your dad. I fear that you’d feel the same pain I have had to carry from the loss of my father, that you would have to navigate this very scary and complicated world without us. The thought that even one of us could possibly leave you alone scares me. 

Your grandpa was an orphan and swore that he would never have children in his life. When he had me, it was such a shock and he really took the role of a father very seriously, your grandma would even say too seriously. He was over-protective of me and had to make sure I was okay at all times. He didn’t like me getting on the bike so always made sure I was in a car and if I had to go on a bike he’d wrap me to your grandmother incredibly tight, she would struggle to breathe. He worried that the air was too dirty for me even though this was Bali 25 years ago where I’m sure the air quality was far better than now. I wonder if would’ve been this overprotective over you too, I’m sure he would be. It makes me a little sad that he would never get to meet you, but I know he’s always watching. Your Akung also had the most fantastic life, his best friend says that we could write a book about it. Described him as “un épicurien de la vie”. As soon as he was able to live on his own and out of the system, he worked on a barge and went village to village through the rivers in France. He hosted apéros on them every night with saucissons and wine, inviting all types of people. He would race horses and fought in boxing matches to get some money. He was homeless in Paris and described it as the most happy times of his life because he was truly free. He opened thrift shops in the Marais and took care of prostitutes in Pigalle. He wrote erotic comics with a vocabulary deemed as “spectacular”. It was said that your grandpa had a way with words and was so incredibly well-spoken. He then moved to the Caribbeans where he helped open clothing stores and sold vintage Chanel on boats. Before eventually meeting your Grandma in Bali on a business trip. And you know, despite being a black man in Europe post war, he always said that everybody treated him kindly and he never had a bad or racist encounter because your grandpa had the type of energy that always brought out the good in people. 

I need you to know that you come from a line of extremely special people with big hearts who’ve lived full lives and have the most positive outlook on everything. I will make sure you carry that with you. 

I do not know who your father may be just yet. I have met two gentlemen that I thought could have possibly been the one but I was wrong both times. I may have been too young to be asking myself those questions, too young to even consider motherhood but as I said I always keep you in mind. I can not consider anything long term with anybody that would not be good enough for you, I pay close attention to the things they say or do and most of the time when they don’t meet my expectation, I usually toss them away. And then there was the other ones, the ones I didn’t even know for very long or very well yet, that tick all the boxes for being a good father but unfortunately, did things that hurt me. So I’ve had to walk away even though it was hard to. Because at the end of the day you deserve to be in a household where your parents respect each other and have a healthy way of communicating. You also deserve a happy mama who can focus on your happiness because she already is content with herself and feels secure. At the end of the day though, the reason why I am so adamant to find a good father for you is because I’ve understood that romantic love comes and it goes and it may not be forever so if any chance your father and I have to split up, I need to make sure that he is a man that will be able to take care of you properly even when I am not around. 

But in the possibility that your father is not the greatest, I have made such incredibly friends in this life, friends that I know will always be around me and maybe one day, us, forever. You should know that your mother has the most amazing support system and have nurtured such wonderful friendships with the most amazing girls. Some of these girls I have known for years and some came into my life a little later but I know will stick around. One thing I will always tell you to do is to make friends and to value them as much as you value your other relationships. This is something that I guarantee will make you happy and make you grow in so many wonderful ways, ma fille. Your friends are so important and I hope that you will make girlfriends for life, just like I did. I hope you will have people, who’ll love you very much and you’ll be able to experience things together that you could not experience with me or any of your romantic partners. That you will share funny stories that you will recount often at girl dinners, that you will keep secrets that you will take the grave, that you will have hardships that you will overcome together to make your bonds even stronger. So we’ll never really be alone, we have your aunties who I know would go to hell and back for you, treat you as if you are their own. Your closest friends might even be their kids too and I hope that is the case because that would mean I get to hang out with them more. 

I’m going to be honest—I have a lot of fears about bringing you into this world. Your mother is an anxious person, at least for now, but I’m working on it. There’s so much I can’t control, and that terrifies me. You should see the state of the world right now. The planet is overheating, biodiversity is vanishing, clean water is harder to find, and landfills overflow with waste. Species are going extinct. World leaders grow more corrupt and power-hungry, the ultra-wealthy hoard resources, and women’s rights are being stripped away in an instant, undoing decades of progress. Health systems are collapsing, wars still rage on. I don’t know what kind of world I’ll be bringing you into.  

What if, by the time you arrive, food has become scarce? What if the air is too toxic to breathe, if wild animals exist only in photographs, if the freedoms I once had are just stories to you—memories of a life you’ll never get to live? What if your father isn’t the man I thought I married, and he hurts you? What if, despite everything I do to keep you healthy, you are born with an illness that makes life harder, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it? What if I pass down my own unresolved issues without even realising it, leaving you with burdens you never asked for?  

I think my anxiety and fears are a clear sign that I’m not ready for you yet. Not until I learn to let go, to accept that I can’t control everything. I don’t want you to feel suffocated by my fears, held too tightly until you feel the need to break free—recklessly, dangerously. I’ve seen what happens to children raised by helicopter parents. They become the wildest, most rebellious people I’ve ever met. And ever since then, I’ve known that I have to raise you with trust.  

No matter how much I try to protect you, I have to accept that you will have struggles of your own, just like everyone else. And that’s okay. It’s inevitable.

Some of my other fears are a little more personal. I worry that in giving so much of myself to you, I might lose who I am—that my identity will be swallowed by motherhood. That I’ll exist only as your mother and nothing more. That when people think of me, they won’t see the person I was before, only the role I’ve taken on.  

I know it might sound vain, but I also hope that when I have you, I don’t lose my sense of self. That I’ll still find time to care for myself, to feel beautiful. That I’ll hold onto the personality I’ve grown to love and appreciate. I hope your father and I will still feel like best friends, that we’ll keep our little quirks, still flirt, still laugh. That we won’t slip into a routine so rigid that we have to schedule moments just to hold our marriage together. I hope spontaneity still has a place in our lives. But this is nothing for you to worry about and I will make sure to keep you away from these issues. 

You visit me in my dreams sometimes. You’re always around three or four years old, always by my side. The love I feel for you in these dreams is indescribable—so intense, so pure. I’ve never felt a connection like this with anyone in this lifetime.  

I never really remember your face, but I can feel you—your warmth, the softness of your curly hair. We don’t do much, just spend time outside, going on walks or having picnics. Your father is rarely around, and when he is, we usually don’t like him very much for some reason. I hope that’s not a glimpse into the future because, honestly, that would be a bummer.  

I’ve had dreams where I get pregnant by someone I don’t necessarily want to be your father or at a time when I know I can’t give you the life you deserve. In those dreams, I have to make the impossible choice to let you go. Every time, it feels like the hardest decision I’ve ever made—something I desperately don’t want to do but know is right. And I sob, I scream, I break apart with a pain so gut-wrenching that I wake up hyperventilating, silently crying.  

You aren’t even here yet, and I love you more than anything I could ever love.  

Some Sundays, half-asleep, I reach for the spot beside me, searching for your little sleepy body to pull you close. I imagine slow mornings with you. Staying in bed, watching TV, sharing breakfast, playing games. I picture you asking endless questions, your curious little face lighting up as I do my best to answer. And then, reality sinks in—you’re not here yet. But somehow, I miss you so much already.

Bali, January 2025