A Sort Of Love Letter

Published December 8, 2012 by auddity

If one more person says to me “I value our friendship too much to hook up/be in a relationship with you,” I’m going to fucking lose it. Because friendships aren’t forever. Friendships fade in and out of your life – except for a select few. But relationships? You never know which one is going to be forever. I’d rather take a gamble and shoot for forever. Worst case scenario, it doesn’t end well and you don’t stay friends. In my experience, that was bound to happen anyway. Who knows? Maybe you get a few awesome months together. Maybe a few years. Maybe the rest of your life. There’s no way to know for sure, but I can tell you one thing, I bet I make just as good a girlfriend as I do a friend. Maybe even better. I’ll do you one better, I am no longer good friends with any of the people who’ve used that line on me. If our friendship was so important, why not take a chance on me? If our friendship was so important, you probably shouldn’t have had to tell me how important it was.

As someone who has never been in a relationship, I am enamored with them. I want love, real love, to the point where I feel like I’m wishing so hard I am actively scaring it off. Where is the love? Audrey’s zeal chased it away and forced it into hiding.

I want you. I want to know everything about you. I want to know when you’re sad. I want to know when you’re so miserable that you can’t get out of bed in the morning. And then I’ll come over and just sit with you until you can. I want to know when you’re angry, and who you’re angry at. And then I’ll go track them down and punch them in the face for you (metaphorically). I want to know when you’re happy. I want to be the one to make you happy. I want to make you laugh. A genuine laugh where you throw your head back and you don’t care who is watching.

I want to fall in love with the little things. The way you take your watch off each night as we’re going to bed. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The way you say my name. Your forearms. The fuzz at the nape of your neck. Your handwriting. The way you talk to your mother. The way you talk to your dog. Your ridiculous fear of bugs. The scar on your shoulder that only I know is there.

All I want is for you to be mine. Because didn’t you know? I’m already yours.


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