This is for ( )

Foreword: I love writing these.

__________________

Jealousy. That is what grows inside of me everyday. All because of you. And I am jealous of you. Not just because of you. Jealous of your confidence. Jealous of your boldness. Jealous of your ability to be foreword. Jealous of your figure. Jealous that you can make moves. It didn't bother me... until recently. And now, I am going to use you- you as my motivation. To be like you. To be better than you. Because I am a creep, and I have analyzed your moves, and I know your ways. Your processes- you move too fast. I think, once I am 'better' than you, I can perfect it... I can do better than you. Just you wait. The prize is at the finish line- you don't even know you're racing for it. If you get to it first, I'll snatch it from right under your nose.

Because I already know how to be better than you.


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We all talk about you. All of the time. Everyone brings up your name, your name provides smiles. We love you. It's not in a sexual way, it's in a sisterly way. Don't be worried.
I don't know what it is exactly, be we just want to pinch your face and saw "aaaawww" every time we see you, every time we talk to you. All around sound guy, you are someone I hope to know for the rest of my life. I know from time to time I seem a bit much, but you're getting used to me (I hope). Well, I really don't know what else to say about you, other than the fact that long "aaaawww" echoes in my mind every time you're brought up. End creep status.

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Afterword: I wish I had enough to write more, but the first exhausted me.

Hej hej,

Any

This is for ( )

I read Dear Old Love
And think of you
Though you are not an old love
or a new love
or a current love.
I don't know what type of what you are.
You're a love.
And, you spring up in my mind.


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Yes, we went to school together. Yes, we were friends. You had a big mouth. I couldn't trust you with what I had to say. In fact, I didn't trust anyone in that school with what I had to say. You all were a bunch of dirty snitches-- but you, ah! You- drama queen- were the cream of the crop. You knew how to use the right amount of information to have you get away with everything. Because you were this, because you were that- everyone cry for poor you.
I was nice to you when we stopped going to school together because I remember talking to people who had seen you, and they said you were turning into a fuck up. I didn't want to believe them. So, I continued to talk to you. To be friends with you. Then, you came over to my house unexpectedly, and after that day, I knew I didn't want to be around you anymore.
You were a fuck up.
The lifestyle you live is one I do not want to be part of.
We shall be tragic artists in our own ways.
Don't drag me down with you.


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I feel extremely embarrassed of even considering to writing this.
I have neither met you, nor do I ever expect to meet you in person. We live in two different countries, two different continents. I have never spoken to you. But, I would like to say- you are the founding reason why I appreciate the beauty of men so much more. Honest! If it wasn't for you, I don't think I'd have the reputation amongst my friends as being a male appreciator. Thank you for that.


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More to come. I know I'm going to regret making these public in the future. But, pft. I'm a writer. I can get away with most of this.


Hej hej,
Any

This is for ( )

I wish I could tell you how selfish you are. Downright selfish. If there is anything at all about me brought up in the conversation... you lose interest. If it regards anything else, HA! We could go on for hours. The only reason I talk to you on AIM is because you're the only one who talks about interesting things (even if you do tend to brush off my personal remarks). And it pains me that you ask of where to hang out... and we haven't even met up or seen each other since last May.

Why am I friends with you?
There has to be a reason. I have yet to find this out.


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One question: are you in love with me? I think you are. You know who you are. I'm sorry to break it to you, even though you know it, I'm not into you. Never will be. But we can be good friends.


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And you, I wish I could understand you! I wish I knew more about you- but your reserved and distant personality prevents me from doing so. I know you socialize- I know you have friends. But, why does it take you to be under the influence of something to speak to me? To not come across as standoffish? Do you need that as your social lubricant to talk to me? I just want to be your friend. Because I like you. I like your deadpan face- and sudden, rare bursts of laughter. I like your intelligence. I like your passion for the pen, your willingness to admit you are shy-- but YIKES! it is driving me insane. I wish I knew how to crack you. Yes, because I feel as each day passes by, it's driving a wider divide between us, and all the awkwardness has it's ability to fill in the cracks. I don't know whether to regard you as a hovering raincloud or a $20 bill found in the pocket of my jeans. I hope that this doesn't make me sound like a creep: but I want a lot from you. And I keep telling myself to move onto wanting to know someone else... but you're still there.



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I just want to say once more, you are an evil bitch, and if you wish to sound intelligent whilst using uncommon English, it's "whence," not "from whence." LRN2VCB

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I should do more of these exercises.

Hej hej,
Any