why don’t you then justin? what is stopping you? don’t you know that i love you and that i show you that?

i know not how to do anything that would aid in this endeavor. i know that you love me, and, as i said, i appreciate you, and i know that we are not on what one would call bad terms, yet i feel inadequate, weak, stupid…. things that i am not used to feeling, and most certainly things i don’t want other people to think of me. i don’t know. i feel confused all the time. i don’t know.

Kiss me. Kiss me and everything will work out.

i wish she would say that. i want to hear words of affirmation, but i have done naught to deserve them. i love you. i want her to say things that will fix my life for me. it’s not that bad right? it’s just school and a little self-esteem/socio-behavioral issue; you can get past it. i’ll be just fine? it is it’s not i can’t. whisper secrets of life into my ear and then my other ear and then each ear again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and a…. until it gets through my thick skull and i know how to ease my pains i love you.

Let's make a macro of my happy poetry with your photograph

by the celestial forces of the the moon and stars and a holy spectacle i write to you now. i am writing a journalistic entry tonight because i feel bloggish and sluggish and ish. that is beside the point.

I am writing to you to tell you that i'm sorry. I know it's cheesy and stereotypical and dumb and overused to the point that it is unbearably trite to say, but i'm sorry.

everything i said today was not what i wanted to tell you. everything was wrong. i know that it may have seemed silly to someone else, but it mattered to you and it matters to me.

i honestly don't know what else i want to tell you, Dot. i just want to be happy. because this doesn't feel happy. in an attempt to show you that it truly matters to me, and that it truly hurts me, and that i'm truly apologetic, i have chosen to type this letter to you - on the internet - for everyone to read and make judgement upon if they wish.

Dot,  i love you. i want to sit down at a restaurant with you. i want to say mean things about the waitress when she's gone with you, and then politely address her when she comes to the table with you. i want to stand in the rain with you. i want to stand in the rain on a playground with you. i want to stand in the rain on a playground in the dark with you - getting motion sickness on a swing-set with you. i want find out what it means to be "deep into the rain of you." i want dance with you in a big room with hardwood floors and a big window that lets in both sunlight and the stares of some schoolgirl who wishes to have a relationship like that one day with you. i love you.

Your lover and friend, September