...in the sense that random scraps of paper entice me because they exist in a world where you could potentially write on them.
...in the sense that I weigh every possible implication and consequence of calling you and just before I hit send still have no idea what I'm going to say.
...in the sense that the air in the room feels different against my skin when you are, may be, or have been in it.
...in the sense that I have a hard time trusting people, and you could absolutely ruin my life if you wanted to.
...in the sense that you probably already have ruined my life, and that's perhaps the best thing that's ever happened to me.
...in the sense that I want to tell you a secret that might make you hate me.
...in the sense that if I bump into you today, I'd like to think I'd recognize you, but even if I don't it won't stop me from loving you.
...in the sense that I don't really know you, andbutso I want to.
...in the sense that "I love you" has become a cliche placeholder for selfish romantic desire and all I really want is to sit with you here while life happens around us and then get up and be a part of life happening but, yknow, together, except that's all still about what I want, and really who cares what I want, because...
...in the sense that what do you want?
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