Shouldn’t I only have eyes for my husband? According to my polls: no, I’m not dead, just married.
I think of your smile and I’m smiling to myself like an idiot all over again. It’s all out of my control.
We may not be dating each other in this lifetime, but maybe it will happen in another one, or a different universe where fate decides to bring us together.
This is stupid. I’m not six years old anymore. I’m a grown, independent woman with a French press for crying out loud. That kind of level of adulthood doesn’t have room for something as silly as a crush.
I won’t sit by my phone hoping you’ll text. Because I’ll go ahead and text you. Even when I say I’m not going to. Even when I say I don’t care and you’re just another dude who kissed me outside a bar.
Sorry but Dirty Grandpa or Zoolander 2 just isn’t going to cut it for this one.
I can’t make you disappear if you’re still lingering in the air.
Who among us haven’t wanted to throw a lightsaber-fit at some unsuspecting console when things don’t go our way? Plus, tantrums mean you get to pet that hair of his and tell him everything’s going to be okay.
I shouldn’t tell you that I’m constantly torn between wondering if I’m putting stock in false hope, or if I’m waiting for something incredible to unfold.
A crush on someone you hardly know.