April 2010
6 posts
dear you,
i’m worried about the insecurities you’re getting about eating in front of other people. we all eat. we all eat. we all eat.
eat,
me
dear you,
you could never really disappoint me in the sense that i will never truly reach that part of you.
ideally,
me
dear you,
i don’t want to sleep on your fucking couch without you. i don’t want to fall asleep to the sounds of your tiny tv without you. but i did these things.
your door was open, so i know the air circulating around us in our slumber was sending messages we couldn’t say when we’re face to face. i wanted so badly to say something outloud like, “i know it’s difficult. i...
dear you,
how dare you say “i don’t even know you.” you were the closest i ever came to saying “i love you” to someone. well, then.
fuck you,
me
dear you,
i think so much because of you. i think about you and every step leading to you. when we met. what we said. when we touched hands in the darkroom. the first time i texted you. how i was afraid of liking you. now i do like you. and you liked me. why would i call it off? because i have morals. i’m beginning to hate my morals. my heart is begging to be yours.
always,
me
dear you,
look-
if i say i’m in love with such and such celebrity. then i tell you that you remind me a lot of such and such celebrity, shouldn’t you be able to jump to my conclusion.
sayitback,
me