The Scrambled Philosophies That I Call Thoughts

[New Message]

(Jan. 25. 2016. 5:54pm)

Hi. It's me again. I know...it's been awhile. I know we hardly ever talk outside of school these days, and I know I try to make up a million excuses on your behalf. Yes, I know I'm just a silly girl who refuses to see reason, but the thing is, I kind of don't mind being this way, because it's you we're talking about, here, and you're special. You've always been special. I can just imagine that if you were here with me, reading this over my shoulder as I wrote this to another guy, you'd complain that I was writing a run-on sentence, and you'd try to edit it for me, and I'd say something both witty and philosophical about how my thoughts were a run-on sentence, so why can't my sentences be the same way, and you wouldn't be impressed, and I would love you. "'You're one fry short of a happy meal', H," I'd tell you, wishing I'd come up with that myself, and you'd shake your head and laugh that laugh of yours that never fails to make me smile in response. I know that I'm writing this all right now, and tomorrow I'll go on with my life, and feel just the same as I did before looking into those blue eyes of yours the first time, but as I sit in silence now, with nothing but the clicking of my iPad, and the sound of my own breathing, I can truly say that I love you. And I know that I act casual and ditzy and crazy and hyper around you, and it's really hard to explain, but when I'm with you, there's no time to contemplate my behavior. Things happen in the moment when I'm with you; time passes much too fast, and when I'm with you, I don't worry about tomorrow, and I don't have the time to act "in love" because things just happen the way they do, and I think I really like that. I sometimes find myself alone, or with other people, or in-the-middle-of-somewhere, for all it matters—I'll find myself thinking that no matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, no matter if we're talking or silent, that I'd enjoy this and every other moment ten times more if you were here. Just because of your mere presence—then again, there's nothing "mere" about you. You're just special, okay? And I know that you know you're a genius, and that I've told you how close to perfect you are a million times, but you're something special, and you're going to do great things. I know it. I know you. I believe it. I believe in you. "You're something special"... That's a three letter phrase that it feels I've said to you a million times, and there's another three letter phrase that I've been dying to say to you a million times, and as twenty øne piløts says, "sometimes to stay alive, you've gotta kill your mind," and everyone is saying something, and I have suppressed my voice long enough, so I will say it now: I love you. I know we're best friends, yet we're not as close as we used to be, but I hope we'll get there one day, and I love you. That's it.
~A.

(Message deleted.)