12:29 a.m. - Thursday, Feb. 08, 2018
send me a letter soon
The good looking PoF guy didn’t respond to my message. Screw him then. I only have eyes for Daniel anyway. I keep looking at his selfie he sent me with the book I sent him. I wanted it to be a surprise but by Monday afternoon I couldn’t wait any longer, knowing it would have been delivered by the previous Friday, I texted him asking if he had checked his post. He said no and was so excited that I had sent him something. He went to check and said he couldn’t find anything in his pigeon hole but that Friday’s post didn’t get distributed until 3.30pm on Monday. So we had to wait an hour. I ruined the surprise by an hour. At least I got to hear he was excited. He said he has to send me something now, I asked for the poem he had written about me. I asked him if he guessed I might have sent him a book. He said he thought it was a letter. Sweet to think he would get excited about receiving a letter from me. I said I would have written a letter but I dunno what I would have said, what does one write about? He said he would write one to me and then I can see. Then we sent each other pumping heart emoji’s. Heart melty... I am gonna get my heart broken if I get carried away...
I want to invite him to my birthday party but maybe it’s a bad idea. I want my dancing partner with me!
Even though he wrote a poem about me I am still convinced he’s not bothered about me. He texted me tonight saying that his poetry group loved it. That made me very happy. He’s gonna make me lovesick I can feel it. When I was with him I couldn’t help thinking how young he is and it felt slightly weird between us. But there’s something very sweet about our affection for each other. It feels quite old fashioned and innocent. I should remember the awkwardness though. It’s easy to build an illusion of someone around texting.
Read this on someone’s FB tonight. Cheesy? I like it though. Fitting.
“She has a bookshelf for a heart, and ink runs through her veins, she’ll write you into her story with the typewriter in her brain. Her bookshelf’s getting crowded. With all the stories that’s she’s penned, of all the people who flicked through her pages but closed the book before it ended. And there’s one pushed to the very back, that sits collecting dust, with its title in her finest writing, ‘The One’s Who Lost My Trust’. There’s books shes scared to open, and books she doesn't close. Stories of every person she’s met stretched out in endless rows. Some people have only one sentence while others once held a main part, thousands of inky footprints that they've left across her heart. You might wonder why she does this, why write of people she once knew? But she hopes one day she’ll mean enough for someone to write about her too.
I quite fancy sending Daniel something else, a letter too maybe. A drawing, a CD, my favourite sad romantic story (the Nightingale and the Rose) or a poem (not written by me). But I don’t want to make a fool of myself and it is Valentines Day next Wednesday. That would be a bit much but also potentially very sweet if it arrived then.
Oh and the Prime Minister of Canada, Justin Trudeau, interrupted a woman addressing him at a town hall meeting or something, when she said the word ‘mankind’ and he said “we say Peoplekind now.”
No WE don’t!
