I’m sorry for texting you. That was stupid. That was overconfident. That was abrasive. You probably didn’t need to deal with that. That probably made you feel obligated to behave a certain way or respond a certain way and honestly, I would’ve been fine if you just ignored me. It’s cool. What I can’t stand is the idea that you want to talk to me, but won’t. The idea, that you might like me, but resist. The idea, that you’re wondering about me too. But won’t admit it. That’s what bothers me. That’s what I’m not sorry for. So if that’s the case, could you just like, I don’t know, admit it? Could you just say, “Hey I never deleted your number or got a new phone, I just wanted to seem cool.” Could you just jump over the line and say that you believe in timing just as much I’m trying to? Could you just be the person that I’ve envisioned you being for even just 30 seconds? Because, like, nobody makes my heart stop. Nobody makes me dizzy. Nobody makes me excited about anything. And it’s all very unbecoming and all very concerning and all very unattractive, but here we are. Here you are all in my world with no announcement, and I’m supposed to feel bad about anything and everything. But here’s the thing: I don’t. Baby I have wanted you from the minute I laid eyes on you and years can go by but those butterflies are still there. Hibernation happens but nobody ever said it had to be forever. I still hear your name and could spend hours talking about what those syllables do to my spine. And so yeah, it’s been a minute. And yeah, who knows where we are. But I’m sorry, something about you does something to me. So if you could find it in you to love me anyway? Well then we’d really be something to talk about.