last night at midnight i was writing him a letter. counting crows[goodnight elizabeth]on my headphones. writing in the same book that i write all my scatterbrained thoughts. i had my hood on and hoped it would hide me from anybody else in the house because i was crying and i didn't want to have to explain why. mostly because even i didn't know why. i wrote to him about every little thing that had been building up in me lately. i wrote to him about why i thought i couldn't answer his questions and why i couldn't tell him what was wrong. i wrote to him the things i loved about him and the things that i wish i was for him. i told him that i loved him and that i was grateful that he loved me.

i always do that. i always pour out my thoughts and then the next morning when i'm all ready to give them out to the person, i wonder if i should. but this morning, i gave those pieces of paper to him. he looked at me like he knew. his eyes matched his shirt. his eyes matched my heart just then. he slid his arm around me in the parking lot and he told me he loved me. i told him i loved him too and i walked away. now i'm left to wonder what he thought when he read it. as i wrote it, i cried. i wonder if he'll have the same reaction when he reads it. i just want him to feel what i feel so that he can understand. because maybe then he can help me to understand.

lately i just don't know.

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