I’ll do my best to bring chickens and tiny donkeys but i can’t promise anything

I want it to be you. I’m crushing. For the first time in forever I’m actually crushing. Not just feeling meh or I should be doing this but actual ‘I really want to see you again and I’ll make up dreams about our future and our kids will be so cute and I wonder what you like so I can talk to you about it because I want you to like me.’

So I add you on FB because I can not not. And I write something silly about dancing and I sit there and keep watching for the little icon shouting out if you’ve seen it or not. And I wait. And in the space of waiting I have time to dream our future about 100 times.

You answer me. Something equally silly about the countryside and hang overs and being tired.

The crushing gets worse because maybe, just maybe, you like me a little bit too. I google you. Screen print your picture. Do all the things you would never admit when playing cool. Our conversation runs out and I hope you’ll write again and I know that if I get tipsy I will but I try not to because of the cool.

You send a picture. Tell me how beautiful the countryside is. Make me want to jump in a car and get to you even if I can’t drive. We joke about you buying a mini donkey and suddenly I have a new found interest for miniature donkeys with funny hair do’s.

I go on a date with someone else but I keep wishing it was you which is horrible but I don’t care but I’m just glad there is someone I wish I was on a date with. I come home, I’m tipsy, I check the phone if you have written anything but you haven’t and five butterflies die in my stomach.

When I wake up and look at my phone there is a message from you

‘I think you are awesome and I can’t wait to dance with you again. I’ll do my best to bring chickens and tiny donkeys but I can’t promise anything. It might just be little me. Xx’

Sent 03.26. The time when you are lying in bed writing the things that you don’t dare to say in the brightness of the day.

Hundred new butterflies take the place of the dead ones.

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