Here we go. I like you numero dos.
I still don't know your name. I think it's too late to ask. I'm pretty positive you're getting a completely obscure impression of me. I'm not really shy, but I think you think I am. You are good-looking. I don't really understand why you still talk to me because I can be so stand-off-ish in the mornings on the bus. But you still talk to me. Precious.
You're a completely different person than I used to know. I really don't think I can say that I know you anymore. I didn't think that could ever happen. I'm pretty sure we were better than that. Fix it.
I idolize just about everything you do/say. I'm glad you're not weird like others from your knack of the woods. I wish I could have a conversation that's really real with you.
I think about you all the time. HOW STUPID IS THAT?
I still haven't figured you out yet. I know I'm not going to anytime soon, but I'm baffled at how quick you are to judge. It pisses me off. How's that for hypocrisy?
Talk to me. Please. I need you. You're all I have.
I can't believe the semester is almost over. I have three weeks left. THREE. I left to go to New York with my best friends this day last year. And I really, really wish I was going back. Or doing something. Except then I'd miss out on one of these three weeks left at USU. But I'm only freaking out a little bit.
This post is purely for my own satisfaction. Yet I'm still posting it. CYBER SLAP.
And I've hitched on my Fridgewatcher pictures because they definitely do not deserve their own post. We have a lot of salad dressing.
Dumb. Only interesting for four seconds. That's okay. "What. Is our fridge photogenic?" says my roommate, Lucy.
Yes, Lucy. MORE THAN YOU'LL EVER KNOW.