Your friendship with her is a half drunken three-legged relay race, and the baton is a stick of dynamite. And you two are the only ones on the track. Me and English are watching from under the bleachers, high-fiving constantly.

Sometimes I look back on stuff and think I might have essentially bullied him into a relationship with me. Actually, it’s more complicated than that. Parts of me were operating independently from myself. So it’s like I was bullying myself into bullying him into liking me. If that makes sense.

I’M TOO FUCKING COOL FOR THIS!!!!!