Oh, there’s nothing like coming down from a coke binge, while setting off on a 7 hour drive, when a Florence and the Machine song comes on a mix cd, and brings me to tears over possibly maybes.

  You always thought you might end up on my blog. Of course, you were thanking God you wouldn’t, but look at it this way: at least I’m not actually emailing you.

  I really don’t get you.

  You’re the first person in a long time that I was slowly opening up to. Feeling things that I was cautious of, but really wanted to feel. Even though I found you enormously irritating at times (as I imagine you did me), I was really starting to fall for you.

  And, I fucked up. I won’t argue that. I just wish you could see things from my side. How what I did was really just a sign of how excited I was about you. How I wasn’t bragging, and high five-ing my friends; I was admitting, while blushing, how cool I thought you were.

  The thought of seeing you, touching the back of your neck under your blond mane, watching your wild eyes slowly close as I pulled you to me, then kissing you for the joy of kissing you…I was looking forward to that, even more than…fucking you. Though, I think that would have been pretty rad, too.

  To remember how I felt about you, then to remember how it was to see myself through your scorned eyes. Ouch. Florence tasted a lot of salt.

  I really don’t get you. But, I really wanted to.

love, me