I Love You-i Do-but I Am Afraid

The Boy I Just Kissed Is Talking To My Father. The Boy I Want To Kiss Again Is Waiting For My Mother To Serve Pancakes. I Must Fight The Urge To Freak.

I Just Needed To Realize That Style Was Like Personality - It Didn't Always Have To Be Consistent; It Just Had To Be Something You Lived With.

Next To It Was A Dvd Called 'as I Get Laid Dying,' Which Had A Hospital Scene On The Front. It Was Like Grey's Anatomy, Only With Less Grey And More Anatomy.

I Mean, What If Love Isn't A Yes-or-no Question? It's Not Either You're In Love Or You're Not. I Mean, Aren't There Different Levels? And Maybe These Things, Like Words And Expectations And Whatever, Don't Go On Top Of The Love. Maybe It's Like A Map, And They All Have Their Own Place, And Then When You See It From The Sky - Whoa.

With All Due Respect, If You’re Forty-three, Then I’m A Fetus.