"Tippy?"
"I know your right next to this door."
I draw back from the door as if it was burning me.
"I know you probably don't believe me, but I do. I really do. I promise you."
I scoff.
"But sometimes I just wish that I'd hate you. You're the smoke in my lungs. Yet for some reason, every time I see you, it's like I can finally breathe."
"You picked me apart every single time you looked at me. I felt - feel you looking under my skin and finding things no one cares about. You saw the change in me that I was trying to deny."
"I've never smoked, or woken up on the floor of a nameless bar with a pounding headache and taunting regrets until I met you. That has to mean something."
"I thought I hated you first. I hated how you would walk on your toes. And how you're so damn stubborn. And how you manage to care and not care at the same fucking time. And how you're so closed off the to world but I always see you at the park where people interact."
"Then I realized the things I love about you. I love how you walk on your toes. And how you're stubborn. And how you manage to care and not to care simultaneous. And how you're closed off to the world but you're always outside, walking where the people you can't stand walk too."
"I can't read you. You're a puzzle with it's pieces constantly changing colors. I can never see the right picture."
"Sometimes I just wish I was colorblind..."
