I want to tell you about my day but I can't because you're lacking in phones. I want to tell you that I miss you and that I wish I could have one day to see you before we go back to the dreariness of school, but I know you said you're not so lucky.
I want to tell you that I had a great time in SF today and that I probably nerved Makayla a bit with my bringing you up constantly. I couldn't help it. You were like word vomit. I kept wanting to mention you. But in balance, she brought up Kenny a few times too. I really enjoyed her company. I'm quite happy that she proposed to roam around with me. She is good company, and I'd like for her to stick around.
I want to tell you that I can't stop thinking about summer. I know you know that I always think about it, but I miss it so terribly and I can't imagine a better time than when it's warm. V-necks, slippers, and ice cream. And bikes and Crocs and hot car rides with the music's volume flailing and the windows rolled down. Sunglasses and flash. I am way ahead of my thoughts, it's frustrating.
I want to tell you I hate Rock Band. I know you know that too, but the thought even makes me unhappy. I can't. It's. I hate Rock Band. I just want to hear the real riffs of a guitar. The real, raw amazement of a bloody guitar.
And you know what? I want to tell you lastly that I am aching to see your face. Aching to smell your scent. Aching to kiss your shoulder. And aching to love you the way I do so viciously it should be illegal. I have one thousand different thoughts scattered and blendered in mind, but all I need is one. And that's you.
I want to tell you that I had a great time in SF today and that I probably nerved Makayla a bit with my bringing you up constantly. I couldn't help it. You were like word vomit. I kept wanting to mention you. But in balance, she brought up Kenny a few times too. I really enjoyed her company. I'm quite happy that she proposed to roam around with me. She is good company, and I'd like for her to stick around.
I want to tell you that I can't stop thinking about summer. I know you know that I always think about it, but I miss it so terribly and I can't imagine a better time than when it's warm. V-necks, slippers, and ice cream. And bikes and Crocs and hot car rides with the music's volume flailing and the windows rolled down. Sunglasses and flash. I am way ahead of my thoughts, it's frustrating.
I want to tell you I hate Rock Band. I know you know that too, but the thought even makes me unhappy. I can't. It's. I hate Rock Band. I just want to hear the real riffs of a guitar. The real, raw amazement of a bloody guitar.
And you know what? I want to tell you lastly that I am aching to see your face. Aching to smell your scent. Aching to kiss your shoulder. And aching to love you the way I do so viciously it should be illegal. I have one thousand different thoughts scattered and blendered in mind, but all I need is one. And that's you.
WhoElse.
