Pretty Pretty Please 2.

This is the one I wrote last night that I wanted to show you but I didn't. Have to before I get too scared.

A lovestruck romeo sings the streets a serenade,
laying everybody low with a lovesong that he made.

Sometimes I get ideas in my head that make my eyes blur up and my chest tighten and I start to feel like maybe I'm not one of the lucky ones. Can I just take a second to tell you that it's not about how things go so fast in my head that I can't even grasp it sometimes? Because they don't usually. This is just with you. I know I've never told you that, and I know you think that this is just how I am, but I'm just scared to tell you that I'm as scared about it as you are. And I'm typing this just crying and sniffling and crying and thinking and playing things through in my head. I can't put all these feelings into words and it's so frustrating. So, I'm trying. I can't be patient in all the ways most people can, and maybe it's because I've been through this in and out so many times that I know what to expect, or at least I feel like I should. The catch of breath before the first kiss and the butterflies from the first 'I like you' aren't foreign to me. And that's another thing I haven't told you, that I'm not really proud of that. That I don't want these things anymore if they won't last. And maybe you should try to trust me for that? I don't trust myself sometimes, but I'm trying, and if you're trying, it's okay. Life is mostly about timing. I just watched this movie, one of my favorite movies, actually, and there's this guy who is so in love with this girl... He writes her a letter, telling her how his heart stops when he sees her and how he thinks she's more than what people see in her... All those things that she needed to hear, and he's just too scared to give the letter to her. It gets to her on accident, and she reads it, and she doesn't know what he looks like. So she's going to find him and all these other guys are coming up to her, telling her all these things about wanting to hook up and how hot she is, and she gets fed up, then he finds her. And he tells her, but she's upset from all those other guys and yells at him. It's not until later, after he's gone, she realizes it was him and... in the end, he's about to leave and they walk away from each other, but he stops himself and goes after her. And I don't know how to describe this, just that I haven't cried this hard in a long time. But I guess, if that letter somehow never got to her, or if those other guys never hit on her and made her mad, or if he didn't stop and run after her in the end and instead just kept going... All these small split seconds change our lives, like you changed me somehow? So, I guess what I'm saying is that life is a lot about timing, and a lot about coincidence, that if certain things happen at certain times in your life, they can mean every little thing, and at other times wouldn't have meant anything. And both people have to be in the right timing at the same time, and how you and I even started talking, when other people in that community, Spencer-shaped for example, has had lines with me for over a year and doesn't even know my name. So this is just us, it's not everything else. It's nothing else. I'm so scared to say all these things to you because I don't know how you'll react and you still intimidate me even if you say you shouldn't. That's another thing that is only you. I'm so brave. So, so brave. And lately, since I moved, I've been so static and scared of risks and scared of life and scared of friends. I guess you never know what that's like until you've done it. Like when you came to the states and all, except if she had just gone away and you had no way of getting home. You'd be scared, right? And alone. And... that's how I am. I'm just waiting for this to feel like home, I guess. So I'm rambling and trying to find the way to say all these things. These things. It's okay not to trust me. It's okay to be slow. It's okay it's okay it's okay. I make you feel like it's not sometimes and I'm so sorry. I guess just because I can't wait to get past the point where things are scary. And for you to get sober and then to see how you are then, I can't wait for that, either. And all the time we talk about seeing each other, how it would be and how I would make you french toast and I don't know for sure if that will ever happen. I know I want it to. I know I've never wished for a teleporter this much before. But I can also tell you that I am a lot easier in person, you know? When there's not just text and I'm frustrated and you can see. I think you probably know that from Skyping with me, that I don't get mad when I'm talking that way. I calm myself down. It's when I'm alone and there's just text and I'm not focusing the way I should be and there are other things on my mind. And, anyway, I watched Sweeny Todd and I liked the part at the end where, after he'd killed the beggar woman, he goes down and picks her up when he knows it was his wife, and he sings to her, and thinks of all those things. I just... I guess I'm really stuck on love tonight. And how it's such a big, big thing, and everyone in it is just so small.

~~
I made a wrong turn once or twice,
dug my way out, blood and fire.
Bad decisions, that's alright.
Welcome to my silly life.
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood,
Miss 'no way, it's all good',
didn't slow me down.
Mistaken, always second guessing,
underestimated,
look, I'm still around.

Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
like you're less than fucking perfect.
~~

All I do is miss you. All I do is think about how gorgeous you are. And how I feel like we could talk always. The way you blow kisses and the way you said my name. You're so good at writing and drawing and all these other things I feel like I'm only semi-good at. Not the way you are. I don't want to... I don't ever want to say that thing that she said, that you're 'perfect'. I don't ever want to say a lot of things she said, I guess, but that 'perfect' thing, you know, I know you're not. But I feel like maybe you are the closest thing I've ever seen to it. I feel bad for all the times I made you upset. For not listening and for yelling for you to go away. You deserve better than that, right, and I'm good enough not to be that low if I try. Maybe things will change and maybe I'll fuck it up and maybe we'll fall out, or maybe this will keep working up into something spectacular, the kind of thing people will write stories and scripts about. I'm so guarded. I told you how no one's ever touched my sides like that. Not because they don't want to, but because I don't let them and I guess you say you can't understand sleeping with people you aren't in love with, but I'm just saving a lot of different things. Not that one special thing. But a million other special things. No one has ever slept over and had breakfast with me. I have never cooked for someone. No one has ever put their hands on my sides and held me. No one's ever played with my hair with their hands. No one has ever kissed all my fingertips. No one, ever, all these things, hundreds and hundreds of things. No one has ever kissed the back of my neck or put their arms around my shoulders. And I guess I'm just in this weird mood and I want to tell you before I fade out of it, okay? All these things I normally couldn't. That all the time, I think about you. I wake up thinking about you. Lately I wake up and check my phone to see if you're around and go back to sleep if you're not. It's that bad, huh? You're a lot more guarded than me so you don't randomly stick your foot up on the webcam or tug at your shirt or things like that but I wonder all the time, how your hips look, how they feel, how your skin feels. All the time and I think about that shy smile you do when you're feeling nervous or shy and I want to see it always. And I want this to be everything, okay? And I want to stop crying right now because I'm scared you'll read this and I'll be saying everything too fast. I don't want to ever have to have what-ifs about you. I don't ever want to regret. I don't ever want to not know what your hands feel like and what your lips feel like, even in my dreams. I want to tell everyone else no. And I don't want you to worry about that, no matter what, because I don't think anything could make me feel like I need something else. If it takes ten years before you trust me or before we get to that special kind of thing, then okay. I can wait it out. And maybe one day you can be sure and say the L word back? I can wait that out too. But mostly I can do anything as long as I know at the end you won't leave.