I read through my old letters to you. Oh my, did they make for terrible reading.
I wish I could laugh at myself. It's too bad I take myself so seriously. I am so
I blush because I wanted you so much. I squirm because I lost myself longing
for a single word of appreciation. I am shamed by the silliness of my fantasizing,
the agonizing, the gigantic proportions that every action of yours took on.
When months later, and years later, you change names and I write you the same
words - I recognize you, don't think I don't! - I still can't laugh and dammit I swear
I never felt like this before. And when you don't see me how can I help but wait
and wait and wait and believe believe believe that somewhere deep inside you're
hiding your feelings for me because you're afraid to be hurt?