So, I'm...I'm...having a hard time putting all this shit into words, but here goes.
My head is going to explode, I swear I can feel my pulse in the pit of my stomach, either that or my stomach has floated up to my ribcage, and has decided to take up a permanent residency there. Odd things freak me out, and put me on the verge of panic attacks, like when you realize you're in a $17-$20 a plate restaurant, and there's someone sitting across the table from you in a button-up shirt. Or when you're asked whether or not we're going to eat out or cook in for the night...but wait, no, let's grab wine first, then take a leisurely stroll through the grocery store...'cause that's apparently what kids are doing these days.
Hold the effin' phone here! That sounds awfully grown up. You don't seem to realize that I'm perfectly satisfied with just movies in bed...there doesn't even have to be movies.
Your option sounds nice too...
"You don't want to be a grown up? Grown ups get to be immature and yet some how more mature."
Just let the pants melt off now...'cause I'm floored! WHO ARE YOU?!
No comments:
Post a Comment