at all. We text all the time, you drop off the face of the Earth. I text you about Alex, and you magically regain your power to text back.
I hope you liked Toy Story 3. I wanted to see it with you and the whole time I was with Jordyn’s family seeing it, I kept thinking about parts you’d laugh at, and if you’d laugh at me for crying, or what part I could try to hold your hand at.
You told me to let things happen, but I don’t know if you meant that or if you needed a bullshit excuse to get me to stop asking you questions. You told me you wrote that shit in my yearbook because you were hoping I’d be honest with you, but I’ve been nothing BUT honest with you. Why would I keep lying? It obviously didn’t work before.
I want you so bad, and I wish you could be honest about the things I want you to be honest about, not just dodge the questions and leave me dangling on a thread of hope.
I am so self-conscious about writing things about you and saying things to you and leaving you voicemails because you talk, and it’s not always a good thing. I’m so mopey all the time because I obviously did something wrong last Wednesday that made you stop texting me all of a sudden.
I could have gone back into Coldstone to get napkins. That drink that I got at Quizno’s was awful, but it was a nice excuse to see you and David didn’t think I was creepy for wanting to see you. I liked it when you poked your head around the corner. It made me feel like you wanted to see me, but now I really really doubt that.
I like that you follow me because you’re the reason I got a Tumblr. I hate that you follow me because I feel like I can’t post some things that I want to because I’m worried about how they’ll affect your thoughts of me.
You’ll get your laptop back and see this and probably never say anything about it, and I don’t know if I like that or not.
I’m not sure of much when it comes to you.
I don’t get you at all.