meh
It’s 3AM and I can’t sleep. Sure, the nonfat venti cinnamon dolce latte that I shoved down my throat at 9PM certainly didn’t help but I really just can’t sleep. I keep having these weird visions of lavish parties, where I’m wearing strappy leather heels and a really Carrie Bradshaw-esque sequined patterned dress. I’m the hostess and everyone that I’ve ever loved is here and all the boys I’ve ever been infatuated are all in love with me. They all (one by one) walk into the party and ask to speak with me in private so they can tell me how beautiful I look.
Realistic, I know.
Now, really realistic. I keep hearing that you want me to tell you the truth…that you want me to confess all the things I’ve been keeping from you over our four years of high school together (plus two from middle school, we met in seventh grade over a mutual Mexican friend). I really want to tell you that I love how nice you were to me and that I hate how awful you were to me. And by ‘were’ I mean ‘are,’ at least when you actually need to talk to me about something.
I have to close firefox so I can download something. And even though I’m leaving this really open-endedly, I think I actually know what I’m talking about. I am going to write a lot this summer, really.
