And just for me.

I always turn the music on and then pause it the whole time I am on the computer. Why even turn it on? I only really listen to music in my car, and then, really loud. Makes me feel cool or something.

Wow, I wish I could say something. But then, people read this. So everything I write must be filtered. What do I want you to know? How many of my vulnerabilities will I let you see? I am very tempted to show you this one thing. But. . . would you take it the wrong way? Would you think of me differently? Would I then be afraid of you? Temptation. Because every part of me just wants to be known. I want to be completely known.

So I will say it, this scary thing. It may sound little to you, or common, but it scares the hell out me. I want you to like me. And just for me. Not for what you hope I might be or what I try to be. I want you to know everything about me, flaws even, and love me just the same. And I want you to tell me, because I am insecure and I need reassurance. Often.

And I want to tell you that I like you. Without social stigmas or preconceived notions of romance. Just that I like you. And that is more than love, I think. Because I have to love some people, but not necessarily like them. So when I say I like you, that is something for me. But I cannot say it to some, because people get all weird. And maybe I do not expect anything more from you than a smile, just to know that you like that I like you.

So if you are reading this, then I probably like you. Because why would I tell you these things if I did not? Yes, I mean you. And I just wanted to say it. And I wanted to put it in text, where you can look back at it and see that yes, I did say that. I did mean that. For reassurance. Because I probably wont tell you in person, unless you ask me. Then Ill tell you. I just. . . I am afraid of what your face would look like when I told you. So I told a couple of you on IM. And that scared me to death, but I thought it was goodbye and I could not bear to leave you not knowing. You have been my friends and I like you.

New subject. I was driving home from Ashleys house tonight and I was so scared. It was dark and the road was wet, but that was not the half of it. I was driving through country roads that had cornfields or trees on both sides of the road and I was afraid a deer would jump out and attack me or something. Here I am in a box made out of tons of metal and some glass and I am afraid for my safety.

Aww, I just got done talking to Rachel. She said "microwave baby" Do you remember that? Oh, let me share the story. We had to dress up potatoes in clothes for some reason in English class eighth grade. Rachel, Katy, Ashley, and I made our potatoes into a barbershop quartet. My Potatoes name was Pier. We even had a song.

Microwave Baby

All you gotta do

is press

"one" or "two"

and then

"start"

to bake my heart!

Microwave Baby!

I still have Pier the Second. Sigh.

I was thinking today about how someone just saying my name can make me feel. Its so weird, I guess. Like how warm and motherly I feel when Emilie or Elisabeth says my name. Or how instantly aggravated I feel when my mom says my name. Or how I feel when you say my name. I cannot specify there, I do not know who you are. But like, I feel so loved when someone says my name when they are excited to see me. And I feel sad when someone says my name and they are depressed. And I feel motherly again when they are hurt and just want some comfort. A lot of weight the one word carries. I like it. Say my name.

And, as has become routine, I must go do my homework. I bid you goodnight and pleasant dreams or good morning and pleasant new memories or good afternoon and . . .