dry your smoke-stained eyes.

Dear you,

You're a nightmare. Except not really. You're caring but distant and I don't know how to handle that. I don't know how to deal with you.

I don't know how to deal with your crinkled smile and your cute laugh and your freckles and all the wounds you keep getting that make me like your skin even more. And I especially don't know how to talk to you.

I don't know how to like you because I'm really bad at that. I'm really bad at letting people in. I'm terrified that if you get to know me more you won't like what you find. And I'm terrified of not letting you get to know me more because then you might never know me. You might never see me drunk, and you might never meet my parents, and you might always like her more than you like me. And I hate that. I hate that more than I hate the way she looks at you and the way people say you aren't good looking even though I think your smile is the cutest thing on the planet earth.

I love the way you are strong enough to hold me on your back forever. I love that you make me feel small. I love that you were worried when I fell and bruised myself. I love that you don't laugh at everything, but when you do laugh, your whole face lights up. I love that you make eye contact when you tell a story and that you show me stupid, funny pictures you find on your phone. I love the way you get stubborn when you're drunk and that everyone is beautiful to you. I love that you smoke on occasion and that you don't talk as much as everyone else. I love that you like the movie Inglorious Bastards. I love that you treat everyone pretty much the same and that you're really bad at making moves. I love your skin and your eyes and your fucking smile that breaks my heart every time I see it.

I don't even have your phone number but at least I follow you on twitter.

I haven't had a crush on someone in months, not since him and now he's forgotten all about me. Now he's gone and we are long since dead and I miss him. I miss him almost as much as I miss my best friend. And I don't know how to handle that. I don't know how to tell you that I like you or to get you to notice that I am more than just a girl in your friend group, that I am someone who wants to be yours.

But there are some things you know just because I'm a girl in your friend group, things that other people don't.

And I don't know how to handle that, either.

You're never going to read this and I'm probably never going to tell you any of this (except that thing about how nice you look when you smile, because you were drunk and I knew you probably wouldn't remember it anyway) but I had to say it somewhere.

Just know that you're a nightmare.
And I don't know what to do about it.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue

P.S. Your hugs are suffocating but I think I like that.
P.P.S. Your winks nearly kill me.