She’s not the kind of girl you put on your “roster” or decide to only see sometimes. The universe isn’t going to throw her at you twice. She’s the kind of girl you lock down as soon as you can. That’s the problem. You know that. You sense it; even if you aren’t ready or can’t give her what she needs. You try. And you fail. Inevitably she gets spooked and you lose her anyway.

She doesn’t need you. She doesn’t need me, or you, or him. Never has and never will. She wants you. She wants you and she isn’t afraid to tell you that; to show you that. She’s not someone you can game; or a game you can play. She doesn’t play.

She takes her love seriously with a side of whimsy. She wants it all and she wants it now. Play with her and she’ll get tired. She'll walk away. She’ll try to poke and **** you in the right direction, but if you take too long you’ll lose her. She knows what she wants and she knows what you want. She knows it better than you do. That’s why you want her. That’s why you want nothing to do with her.

I have days where I laugh for no reason;
absolutely everything amuses me to no end.

I have days where nothing makes me happy;
not hugs, not food, not running, not you.

I have days where everyone is irritating;
I try to tell people. They irritate me too.

I laugh too much. At all the wrong times.
I’m moody. I’m a pain in the ***. I'm going to hurt you.

This whole thing is up to you:

I’ll sleep with you
because I like to.
I’ll wait and see where it goes
because I think you’re worth waiting for.
I’ll be around
because I don’t know how to be anything else

I like you very much,
but I hate acting like it.
I hold back and act aloof
I’m terrified of falling for you
I’m afraid of showing I care about you
I’m afraid you won’t care as much.
It feels like stupidity to admit I want to be with you without knowing how you feel

I like ***, but I also love just sleeping with you wrapped around me.
I sleep better with someone in my bed.
I think you’re gorgeous when you’re fast asleep.
I talk in my sleep, but you do too.

I’m impulsive, but I overthink things.
I’m sensible about most things.
I feel like I’m not being sensible about you.
You don’t know what you want with me
and somehow this is okay.

Seems like yesterday I was 17.
I was a different girl in every way.
I know who I am now and what I’m worth
I think you’ve known from the start.

It creates me.
It controls me.

It frees me.
It motivates me.

It stunts me.
It protects me.

It defines me.

It destroys me.

The brunt of your being:
I want it.
Anything you’ve been shielding me from.
Monsoons. Tornados. Earthquakes.
All of it. I want all of you.
I want to know what I’m missing.
Hit me with all that you have.

I want the walls down:
yours and mine.
I want one relationship where things aren’t obstructed by walls.
I want one person in my life to inhabit the same spaces with.
Be that person.
You know you could be.