You make dreams nice.

December 16, 2005

Today was littered with 605s, 405s, 55s, and 10s. I wish I’d OBEYed, but your presence alone was enough to make this not a waste of time. I never know what to do with my hands. I awkwardly put them into my empty pockets, but with the hope that someday I can place them in yours. Nervousness overwhelms any eloquency I may possess when I’m with you. I’m always clearing my throat, but I’ve never got a thing to say. And there’s a whole lot I want, maybe need, to communicate to you, believe me. When or how, I’ve no idea. I figure that maybe it’d be best to just keep my mouth shut and just enjoy your company because to be completely honest, I don’t know what I’d do without it for too long. These kinds of decisions in these types of predicaments absolutely kill me. They’ve done so for years. You probably hate me for the innumerable entries written about you. I don’t blame you because so do I. Stop being so pretty, and lose the great personality. The thing is though, when you’re next to me, I’m caught in a moment that says, “no matter how things turn out, it’ll all be okay.”

Dashboard singalongs with you help keep me alive.


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