feeling the full brunt of desire.

Dear you,

I don't know you half as well as I wish I did, but I do know that I have no claim over you.

And maybe it's presumptuous of me to wish for something, even if it's just small. I just wish that I could be to you like she is to you or like you are to her or maybe even just like he is to you.

I just wish I was more than I am.

And I don't just mean more than I am to you, I mean more than I am like more as in what kind of person I wish I was.

Because all I am is lame, lame, lame. This lame girl who talks too animatedly about things that don't matter and switches between being self-conceited and self-depreciating in the same sentence, and hates having a messy house, and doesn't know how to leave the people she cares about alone but always feels annoying, and just wants people to love, love, love her the way she loves them, and misses too many people she shouldn't, and secretly gets really homesick but not for a place, more like certain people and memories, and doesn't know how to not be a complete and total and utter dork because really, that's all I'm good at.

All I'm good at is being nervous and trying to be happy because I want people to be happy.

I want you to be happy.

I don't want to be that person who someone looks at and feels bad for or doesn't want to be around because negative energy is really draining on people and I just really like being happy and shouldn't that count for something?

And I know I don't have a claim over you. I don't really even probably have the right to wish for, even the tiniest bit, that maybe I could be part of your happiness. But I just want you to be happy and I don't mean the happy that I am, I mean like your own kind of happy.


Because truth is, I'm kind of lonely. There's no way I'd admit that, though.

Honestly, I don't know why I even bother trying to convey my half hearted feelings, but all I know is that I'm crying for no real reason except that I feel sorry for myself for being nineteen goddamn years old and never kissing a person I liked and never having the courage to tell anyone I liked them until it didn't matter and never being able to leave people alone even when I should and always never being persistent enough to make myself looked at and I just feel like I should be more than who I am but I don't know how to be anyone else and honestly all I really want is to be your friend.

I just want to be your friend.

Because the Strokes never sounded as beautiful as they did on your lips and my name never matters nearly as much as the nickname you gave me and maybe that means we're already friends but I get insecure and always end up wishing for more than I should and I get that I'm still really lame but I just want you to like me.

Why can't you just like me?

Truth is, I'm kind of selfish.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue

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I'm named after a flower. I have perpetual bedhead. I'm proficient in sophisticated malarkey. I have problems sleeping and swearing. I love plants and books. I want to go to Iceland.

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"I'm still here because this is the rest of my life."
-S.H.

"I'm trying to be poetic because I'm trying to tell you the truth."