To be a slut.
He makes me smile. He knows all of the terrible things wrong in my head, and he likes me anyway. He likes me because of them and in spite of them and I don't think I ever believed that such a person could exist.
Of course, I still predict that everything is going to go horribly wrong and I'll end up heartbroken and even more of a mess than before, but that's probably a little paranoid on my part.
I can't wait to go see him. About 3 weeks to wait. Hurry up, time.
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