I'm sorry...
I hope...
I wish you understood...
I wish you would...
I hope I am...
I'm glad you are...
I hate that you...
I'm sorry... that I'm not who/what you were going to have getting into this...
I hope... that when you followed me to across the Wal-Mart parking lot, that it meant as much to you as it did to me.
I wish you understood... That I was a very confused boy at the end of last semester, and who I said I was is not who I am.
I wish you would...stop talking about me...
I hope I am... really doing as good of a job as you say I am doing.
I'm glad that you are... enjoying the fact I'm trying for you.
I hate that you... can laugh at my jokes that aren't funny, remark with some witty comment and make me wish that I wasn't deeply terrified of you.
Yet again, I'm becoming a craaaazzzy person... Why does this always happen to me when I come to school... It's 3:00AM... my chair covers are in the dryer and have about 20 minutes left... then it is bed, to get up at 7-ish, get ready for freshman class retreat, and head off to a weekend full of freshman-ness. The PM part of me is excited for the relationships, the reporter part of me is hoping for an amazing story, but the Brandon in me... the part of me I kind of hate, really wants to ditch out on this whole weekend, and enjoy three days of glory.
A couch, a couple bookshelves, and an entertainment center and my apartment will be complete.... that day will be magical.
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