Working on updating about the more positive advancements and blog-worthy happenings in my life, at the statement of a friend saying my blog depresses him (don't worry, it depresses me too).  I forget people actually read this sometimes, and admittedly have been using it as an outlet for the anxiety I've been experiencing as of late.

Understandably understated: you're cute, I like it.  Sleeping only feet away from you, but when I reach my arm out to feel you I only grasp air.  I'm jealous of every girl who gets to be in the same room as you tonight, hearing the words you might speak tonight, watching the way your mouth curves up at the ends when something amuses you like the way I over analyze childhood and nightmares and people who throw away food like it's garbage.  I've been practicing literacy when it comes to describing this feeling, because I've had it before and I'm nearly sure I'll have it again, but I can't.  It comes and it goes, it's waves, it's oxygen, it's trying to make you think I'm a whole lot cooler than I truly am.  But I think you might know, and I think you may not mind.  If you're free later, come find me.