oh, i already miss you singing like this overthephone.

Thursday, Jun. 06, 2002 | 5:44 p.m.

she wants to know what im writing. id like to tell her no, id like to tell her a lot of things. but i make the mistake of looking up at those glassy brown eyes and the power goes out in that part of my brain that enables me to say intelligent things.

my heart stops beating when i read this. because i think it's about me. my eyes follow the line, and the letters that form words and phrases and sentences and paragraphs continue for two more pages. but my heart sinks. because this isn't about me at all. no, it's about some other girl. and how much he wants her.

regardless, it's good writing. really fucking good. and i'm jealous. which i think is why he gave it to me. and i think that's why he started it out the way he did. to get my attention. well, i'd say he succeeded.

and i'm wondering if he's playing head games with me. or if there's really something there. but i get so confused because it seems like he wants everything that i'm not. and yet the connection is undeniable when he takes off his headphones and catches my eye and strikes up a conversation like it's nothing. fuck, how does he do that?

sometimes i wonder if he's even capable of being attracted to me. and when he writes stories like this. about cute girls who work in coffee shops. i don't know how he could ever look past the plain, ordinary body that encompasses this heart that is anythingbut.

i glance at him when i finish reading. the muscles in his head move in a rhythm as he chews on his straw. but then the confusion sets in again and ijustdontknow what's happening. and the last thing i know how to do is respond in an acceptable manner. because i am a mess. over him. over the situation. over life.

i feel like if he touched me he'd reshape me completely. and i think that if he doesn't i'll eventually just break.

right now. i think i'd be okay with that.

this story he's written has me thinking way too much. im outta here i tell him. and when i say thank you for the story he gets embarrassed and looks at his feet.

and that's when i know. that he is the cutest boy i've ever seen. and that i can deal with whateverthehell is happening. because maybe i'll never be some cute coffeeshopgirl. but at least he is my friend. and i am okay with that.

in a world full of fakes, she is real.

go on drone