I question, but not aloud. Being with you makes everything more extroverted and spazzy, and I like that. The time we spend is effortless.
I want to give you a dorky note about how much I will miss you, but I tear it up. When you’re gone, I’ll write a letter about how life is without you, but I won’t send it. Things try hard to stay the same for you, but when you get home they’ll be different.
I write this letter, which probably could use some editing. I feel more comfortable just knowing you’re around and still dorky, because I’m still dorky too.
Yours,
Anonymous