in the night i dream of him. it is perfect. we are perfect. i am me and suddenly when he is there i remember who that is.
then on saturday afternoon i see him. we play a game where we have a sticker with a character's name on it stuck on our backs. we have to guess who we are.
oh the irony.
he talks to me. i don't remember what he says, but he touches my hair when i turn around. you know, they say that hair has no nerves, but they are wrong. they haven't known the jolt of sunshine that goes through you when his hands are on you. i want to be childish and say 'i will not wash my hair for 100 days, until this memory has faded from my mind'.
but i am not a child. how could i forget?
now it is sunday and i am in my room, all 110lbs of me being swallowed whole by physics textbooks, anatomy notes.
i am more determined than ever. i will be a doll, his doll.
i will make a me that both of us want. it can't be that hard. (right?)