here for a reason.

I want to talk about you in my blogs. But I'm scared. Not scared over what someone reading it might think ... but scared over the seriousness of this. I once asked Jay for advice about you. He said something to the effect of 'then talk serious back to her'.

So I put my heart in a box. And duct tape it. And leave the box on your doorstep. Along with a boxcutter. Now you can do several things. You can just mark "return to sender" and everything will go back to how it was, maybe. You can use the boxcutter to open the box and look at my heart and see what is there for you in the future. Or, you could stab me in the heart.

Please try to watch out for the other stab marks. Those wounds take long to heal.

So what is it that I do?

Do I invest? Do I back out?

I talk to myself a lot, I'll admit that. While pulling back my covers for bed I randomly said, "I'm going to mess things up with you." With such a fucked up mindstate, how could I even believe this is real? I talk to you though. Not YOU, you, but you through me. Doesn't make sense probably but whatever ... I don't try to.

I really want to just lay in bed and hear you breathe and go to sleep. Small things. Why though?

Because I have a jones like Norah?