Ugh I just like you so much. I don’t know what it is we talk about, but I’m always happiest when I’m talking to you. I’ve came to the conclusion that it’s just you who does that to me. I need so much more of you.
We can sit in silence on the phone and it isn’t awkward. That isn’t the case with some of the people who I’ve known for years. You make me laugh and think and give me meaning and make me perfectly content. You’re one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, and you have incredible taste in music. (Except how you don’t like The Smiths, Bright Eyes, Saves The Day, or mewithoutyou…) you’re athletic and gorgeous and passionate and wonderful. Plus you sing and love music. You’d be perfect for me. I can’t say that I really can offer you anything you don’t already possess. You’re already everything I am but better. You’re incredible. And I know you’re going through the most difficult time of your life and that makes me feel so hopeless and helpless. I care about you so much and can’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to you. You’re perfect for me. Absolutely perfect. Except for the fact that you’re not yet mine.
They’re just so nice to receive. Just the thought of someone thinking about you when they wake up, or waiting for you to wake up and talk to them is nice. It’s cute to know that someone wanted you to sleep well or wake up. It’s just a good feeling to, in a way, be looked over. It’s a nice feeling to know you’re in someone’s thoughts.