OK, I’m not desperate.That just made for a good headline. I certainly don’t need you to say anything in order for me to survive. I promise, I’ll live, regardless of whether you tell me I’m beautiful or not, whether I’m smart or not, and whether I’m the one for you, but it’s the idea of it that makes me crave those words.
You might not know this even though I’ve told you, but I can be insecure. Actually, I’m quite insecure with a great ability to conceal it. You see, it’s not that I’m craving this sort of attention because, truth be told, many guys will tell me that I’m beautiful, but for some reason it’s you that I want to be saying it.
Don’t get all excited. I’m not head-over-heels, call-you-every-second, starstruck-teenager in love with you, but that’s not to say I’m not interested.
The problem with you, though, is that you seem to not be able to tell me how you feel. Now, that is more than OK. It’s more than understandable, and nothing shy of perfectly acceptable. I’m all for taking things slow, but moving at a turtle’s pace is hard to handle, you see.
I’d like to wait around forever for you. I may be asking a lot, and it may be super annoying, but I’m not the type of girl that waits forever. I’m the kind who wants to know what’s on your mind, the kind that wants to know what you ate for breakfast and what you’re thinking about before you’re going to bed that night.
Yes, I want you to tell me that you’re falling for me, and that you think about me all day: that you haven’t felt like this for “as long as you can remember,” and that I’m someone you can see yourself with. And if none of what I am saying applies to you, than that is perfectly perfect. Just let me know.
I’m a firm believer that life is about the journey, not the destination. That being said, I’m beyond excited for the trip I’m about to take; the packing of the bags, the anxiousness for the flight, and the take off.
