Five.
It’s another one of those things. He didn’t seem to pleased, so I called his mom instead. Mom’s are great. I called his mom and got the information to her house from her, because he was useless. And off in the south with his girlfriend.
It seems to me that always, and forever, life is changing. Today my life changed a little. We had a chat. A long chat. Not really a conversation-too short for that. Just a chat instead. A long one. We talked about missing each other-which we do. And about how he loves this. This writing? This life? This life in this writing? I don’t really know, but I decided that perhaps he was right-this is pretty damn good, so here I am. She mentioned it too. My BB mentioned it, that it indeed was amazing. She’s amazing. She is the type of person that no matter what can always find a way to make you smile. When she swears it sounds like despite the fact that she is so little she really can do some damage, and her smile is to die for. Home to me is her, him, and my street buddy. It’s all of the things I thought I’d never find replacements for-and I was right. I haven’t. Home is going to be her. BB. BB and me. Regular B and me. B to me makes life worth living. If B wasn’t such a best friend, I’d say we could date. He gets me, I get him, and we get mostly everything there is to get about our lives.
I know that Lincoln is just a hippo, but I wish that sometimes he were real. Every night, cuddling with him and realizing that my love of my life roommate is sleeping I want Lincoln to be real. I want him to talk to me. I know he is listening, but if he’d give me advice it’d be great. I have cried with Lincoln, cried on Lincoln, kissed Lincoln, kissed someone else through Lincoln, kissed someone else instead of Lincoln, smiled with Lincoln, thrown Lincoln, and I have told Lincoln secrets. I have let Lincoln cheat on me with both my RA and my love of my life roommate. He is my everything. No matter what I need, he is there to lend a big jaw and some dreamy eyes. He is my heart. He is my soul mate. I am really glad I found him that day when I was Nikita in Chi-town. (I know I am not supposed to call it that, because I am not from there, and I am white, but whatever, guys, whatever.) I saw Lincoln, and I knew I needed to have him. It’s the first time I have spent a lot on myself on a vacation that wasn’t either something to wear or something that I could write in. But I saw him, and need it. I did, I did. So here he is, with me loving me, and knowing exactly when to stop talking and just listening.
It seems to me that always, and forever, life is changing. Today my life changed a little. We had a chat. A long chat. Not really a conversation-too short for that. Just a chat instead. A long one. We talked about missing each other-which we do. And about how he loves this. This writing? This life? This life in this writing? I don’t really know, but I decided that perhaps he was right-this is pretty damn good, so here I am. She mentioned it too. My BB mentioned it, that it indeed was amazing. She’s amazing. She is the type of person that no matter what can always find a way to make you smile. When she swears it sounds like despite the fact that she is so little she really can do some damage, and her smile is to die for. Home to me is her, him, and my street buddy. It’s all of the things I thought I’d never find replacements for-and I was right. I haven’t. Home is going to be her. BB. BB and me. Regular B and me. B to me makes life worth living. If B wasn’t such a best friend, I’d say we could date. He gets me, I get him, and we get mostly everything there is to get about our lives.
I know that Lincoln is just a hippo, but I wish that sometimes he were real. Every night, cuddling with him and realizing that my love of my life roommate is sleeping I want Lincoln to be real. I want him to talk to me. I know he is listening, but if he’d give me advice it’d be great. I have cried with Lincoln, cried on Lincoln, kissed Lincoln, kissed someone else through Lincoln, kissed someone else instead of Lincoln, smiled with Lincoln, thrown Lincoln, and I have told Lincoln secrets. I have let Lincoln cheat on me with both my RA and my love of my life roommate. He is my everything. No matter what I need, he is there to lend a big jaw and some dreamy eyes. He is my heart. He is my soul mate. I am really glad I found him that day when I was Nikita in Chi-town. (I know I am not supposed to call it that, because I am not from there, and I am white, but whatever, guys, whatever.) I saw Lincoln, and I knew I needed to have him. It’s the first time I have spent a lot on myself on a vacation that wasn’t either something to wear or something that I could write in. But I saw him, and need it. I did, I did. So here he is, with me loving me, and knowing exactly when to stop talking and just listening.