I’m sorry I haven’t unpacked you yet. I see you over there in your cold, dark cardboard box home and I’m sad. And now I’m a little scared. Because you look angry with me. Please, I didn’t mean to hurt you with my absence. Please don’t get mad and spontaneously tangle yourselves up with each other in there. I understand if that’s what happens, because I often do things to get attention from people that I love. Even if it is negative attention. But I’m told that this isn’t healthy. Instead you should focus on working into a cute cardigan or even a cozy blanket. Turn that anger into something positive! Oh I see…you’re going to give me the silent treatment. Real mature, yarn. Real mature.
Thank you for being genuinely nice and understanding when I asked you to move your bed a few inches away from the wall. I’m happy you get hot hot sex all the time. I’m a little jealous of your hot hot sex. You didn’t get mad at me when I nervously approached you about this issue. And when I offered you my clammy hand for an introductory shake, you didn’t flinch…much. I get nervous and sweat a lot when I have to confront people about their sex lives. You seem to have a great one, by the way. Anyways, thank you and sorry for being an awkward, smelly, weirdo. One day I will bring you cookies or cinnamon buns and we can forget it ever happened.
No Longer Sleepless in Seattle
Wow. Thank you for existing. You complete me.
You are awesome. Thank you for blooming as soon as I moved into my new place. You must love me. Or it could be the fact that this place is brighter and warmer than that old piece of shit home we used to live in. I’m going to pretend that you waited this long to bloom for me. Because you knew I would need it. You’re a genius. Let’s be friends forever. Or until you die. Which I hope isn’t for a while, because friends don’t wish that on each other.