To the future Mister Person.

it suddenly smells like Ramen noodles in here. that’s neither here nor there, though. moving on.

hey you. it’s me.

just thinking, as per the ush, about stuff. and i felt i might warn you about a few things.
some disclaimers like i’ve done before, but these will be a bit funner and a lot weirder, i figure.
but here goes.

i’m going to want to do a lot of weird things with you.
i’m going to want to bite you i think. quite a bit. not vampirically or in any other way supernaturally. just normal human mouth bites. ok?
i’m going to want to go to strange, remote places with you.
with soft grass and no one within earshot.
i’m going to want to take a lot of malleable food there.
squishable, spreadable, squirtable food.
i’m going to want to throw these foods at your body.
i’m going to want to scratch you.
i’m going to want to braid your hair.
i’m going to want to beat you at dance central.
and also dance central 2.
i’m going to want to jump into water with you.
i’m going to want to float with you.
i’m going to want to pull your leg hair.
i’m going to want to sit on a roof with you.
a shingled one, not one of those stupid, safe, flat roofs.
i’m going to want to subject you to hours on end of my cinematic heart pieces.
i’m going to want to do things you want to do, too.
but, as i don’t know who you are, it would be hard to describe those things as of yet.
i’m going to want to forget about everyone else but you.
and like five family members and my pets.
i’m going to want to smell you.
all the time.
when you’re not looking.
i’m going to want to sing with you, dance with you, sweat with you, intertwine with you, love you. long time.

so fucking get here already.
once i’m super buff and sexy. er. since, c’mon, i shakira dance all the time. i’m about at 72% sexy potential already.

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