"I danced with you."

"I hadn't noticed," she replied dryly. 
 
{You. I like talking to you. Don't doubt that. I'm just busy and bitchy and distracted and I'm sorry.}

 

I want to lash out at you. Really badly. Because I trust you. That's why I fight with my family, too.  I'm not going to though, because 1) I can handle myself, 2) I don't know how to say any of it, and 3) you deserve better. 

I love me, I love me, I love me. I really do. I just don't like me right now.

I ask a lot of questions. I don't know a lot of things. But I feel like there's a beauty in curiosity, so I'll continue to wonder. I have the whole summer to put together sentences to ask what I want to know. I plan to sit on my back patio with a notebook and read and write for hours.

I leave space so you're never in a situation you have no way out of. I never want to have to apologize for making you uncomfortable that way. That being said, it's thrilling to have been stuck with you.

P.s. Shoulders are a thing. Great. 

P.P.s. Class of 2012!

P.P.P.s. You are the cutest. Let's be friends. 

P.P.P.P.s. ... The common app. Hm.

P.P.P.P.P.s. I love you too.