Dear John,
I have been made utterly translucent. My cheeks rouge, my lips quake each time your name is mentioned. Your body and my hand are two magnets of opposite poles—I’m drawn to you and embarrassed by how frequently I touch you when you’re nearby. You called me sassy, and now I want to be reborn, known only as that.
Yet, I have your number, and I don’t call you. You send me a text, and I don’t respond, too paranoid that I’ll say the wrong thing (and you didn’t ask a question, so did you really want a response And what would the perfect response be Or would I do what I always do and send a message that doesn’t convey over text well And then would you hate me and think I was idiotic and crazy But if you did respond to my response what would I say or do or think?????). You confuse me. I befuddle myself.
“John, you make me laugh. Would you like to get a drink sometime?” It’s the perfect thing to say, but… I am utterly a coward. I blame you and your lovely smile.
Yet, I have your number, and I don’t call you. You send me a text, and I don’t respond, too paranoid that I’ll say the wrong thing (and you didn’t ask a question, so did you really want a response And what would the perfect response be Or would I do what I always do and send a message that doesn’t convey over text well And then would you hate me and think I was idiotic and crazy But if you did respond to my response what would I say or do or think?????). You confuse me. I befuddle myself.
“John, you make me laugh. Would you like to get a drink sometime?” It’s the perfect thing to say, but… I am utterly a coward. I blame you and your lovely smile.
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