The tempest of my thoughts, contained in a simple page.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Dear Sleepless in Stafford,

Gripping your hand in fear as the zombies attacked us from the huge movie screen wasn't weird. It's okay, I know that's what we were both thinking.

Actually, not a lot is weird with you.

We high five when either of us thinks of a new vocabulary word to use in conversation and you're the only, only one who I always feel like I can talk to here. Always.

Do you realize how much I need that?

I hope your latest venture works out. Genuinely.

But, when you said Monday, a small, terrified part of me, somewhere deep down, widened its eyes and whimpered, "But..."

... Because I know everyone thinks that everything is just going to work out fine for me, but part of me (actually, at least 40%) wonders if that's true.

So I'm glad you agreed to back me up. I meant it.

You did, right?


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