******* my hands haven't shook this much since the first time you held them in the backseat of the car. what if i'm just imagining all of this and you don't actually miss me at all? what if on friday i pour my heart out to you and you can't tell me you've felt the same for the past two years? why the **** do i still care so much? god i miss your touch and your lips and your skin and eyes and fingers and that perfect ******* smile. why am i the only one who sees it?