my letter to you

 

Dear You,

I'm in a panic. Complete panic.

I think I like you.

And I'm pretty sure that you like me back. Don't you?

Of course you do. You came over yesterday and you helped me set up my VCR. I was trying to read the instructions and I was getting confused, and angry and pissy and you called right in the middle of my mechanical nightmare and I told you about it all hot and bothered and whiney and you came over. And fixed my VCR while I sipped coffee and chattered to you from the couch, my legs all tucked up under me.

No guy in their right mind just comes over to a person's house with a smile on their face to fix a VCR unless they want to screw you. Don't try to deny it. I know.

Anyway, I knew you would. Come over.

But, don't you realize I'm not very serious about all of this? I can't be. I'm the queen of anticipation, the princess of the first three blissful weeks, the heiress of I'm-too-busy-now-you-must-leave-me-alone.

I guess I don't really mean serious. I am serious. See, I'm thinking about this now which means I'm serious.

I'm just not good at this. It's that easy. Not-good-at-this. I can state that quite matter-of-factly. It's a conversation stopper, blotting paper for a relationship.

You're smart. You need to end this today. Our relationship is over.

Over. Do you hear me?

I think you should call it quits before we even kiss. Which if we don't do, by the way, I just might burst. There's something screeching inside my gut that wants to kiss you. My insides are getting all all wound up like one of those balls of twine. And the twine is scraping the edges inside. And I can't get it out of my mind. It hurts. And it's making me act a little irrationally. Like, I'm thinking of gardens, and kids and billowy dresses.

That's why I can't be the one to put a stop to this craziness going on inside my stomach. I want that first kiss too badly.

I've thought about it and the responsibility falls on you. To say you've had enough.

This is a bumpy and confusing road that has me all lost and turned around inside. I can't be trusted to end it. Because I probably won't. I'll let us get to that first kiss, that first night in bed, that first breakfast together.

All because I like you. Which really isn't enough of a reason, is it?

Please tell me it isn't.

From,

Me.

_______________________________________

ANON

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