OH to write a letter confessing my love to the boy I’ve loved for years but hadn’t known. And OHHH to receive a love letter, weighing on my table but tearing it off before I could read because I was maddening with anger. And OHH to finally have the most perfect kiss after all misunderstanding dissipates like thin air.
When is it my turn to have a tragical romance when this generation doesn’t even understand the word itself?













