I know you’ll probably get quite a few valentines this year, but I would be honored to be one of them. It would be a shame if no one told you that your voice sounds like fairy dust sprinkling softly on harp strings, and your hair is an effortlessly perfect waterfall of gold. What shampoo do you use, girl?
When you study with your big glasses on, it makes me want to stare into a bright light long enough to damage my own eyesight and wear big glasses of my own. Maybe we could study together sometime? Unless you’re busy picking dandelions, doing yoga on rooftops, or attending music festivals.
When I get dressed in the morning, I think, what would I wear if I were you? And then I realize I don’t own floral leggings or a jean jacket ripped in exactly the right places. Want to go shopping together? Would it be weird if I buy everything you buy?
You are so insightful. I could never think of the things you say. Even if I did, they wouldn’t sound the same coming out of my mouth. That’s probably because I don’t wear red lipstick. That rationale may not make sense, but neither does the way you could replace Zooey Deschanel in all the roles she’s ever played. Your show would be Newer Girl.
I didn’t know it was possible to wear more rings than the fingers on my hands, but because of you, I’m trying it now. It is hard to type.
I read your blog the second you post a new entry. If I had a blog, it would consist solely of repostings of your blog.
I know I’m only one of the many sets of eyes that gazes at you as you chew on your pencil, deep in some book, probably one by Faulkner. If you wanted to be buried in Jefferson, I would make it happen. Want to talk about books?
We may never get to skip through meadows and braid each other’s hair together, but at least we are now friends on Facebook.