This. This, this, this, a million times, this.
Someone tattoo this on me so when I slip up and forget, it’s there for me to see for all eternity.
I wish I could tell you this, somehow, just keep saying it til it rang as true for you as it does for me, but I can’t. I could, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing. I wish I could tell you how I felt without you making me feel stupid or like I shouldn’t feel that way or trying to talk me out of it.
What on Earth have you done to me? Why can’t you just let it be?
This reminds me of a bridge in Regensburg, Germany, where lovers would put a lock on the fence that bordered either side and throw away the keys. Even if the relationship was over, the lock would remain unless someone removed it. I always found the idea fascinating.
LMAO. Please.
I just get more awesome the more I drink. I can see how that might make lesser men feel jealous.