(and, yes, this is inspired by that Twitter trending topic; judge all you want; and holy pancake i miss writing)

I want you to be awkward with me sometimes. Being awkward means wanting to say things you probably cannot casually say. Be open, but not too much. Be frank, but not tactless. Keep me surprised. Keep me curious.

I love you, and I want to cuddle. We don't even have to talk. I want your arms around me. I want my face buried in your neck. I want to look at you, to see you, to be looked at by you, and to be seen by you. I want to memorize your scent, and I want it mixed with mine.

Horror movies are my favorite. I hope you watch some of them with me sometime. I won't ask you to act brave, okay? Feel free to be scared. I won't laugh at you. Or maybe I will. But you should know that, throughout the film, my hand will be free for you to hold.

Be friends with my (best) friends. Be family with my family. Love them as much as you will love me. After all, they will be the first to want to beat you up after our first fight. You know what they say: "Know your enemy."

(Quick interruption: I love you!)

Oh, and please, please know how to cook, for I do not know how to be a full woman. Grease splattering frightens me. I keep my distance from a hot pan. I like a well-cooked yolk, and every time I turn the egg around, it either gets distorted or sticks to the surface. So please know how if you would want us both alive. (Or, at least, be patient enough to teach me.)

I find it hard to sleep without a blanket. Or a bunch of pillows to drown me away into Slumberland.

There will come a day when you will see me in front of my laptop, spreading female-tears-induced chemicals all over the place which you will possibly hate, but you have to understand that I really love crying -- over well-drawn manga, over beautifully shot films, over tragic plots, over my favorite characters which eventually die, over still-living characters I would actually want dead, over a new set of quality earphones, over my brother's first prom, over my baby cousin's first day of school, over your sad childhood stories and your funny college ones (which definitely deserve tears of absolute joy).

Lastly, please notice. Notice the things I'm either too lazy or too forgetful to tell you here. This is all your currently 19-year-old will-be lover (because 'partner' is boring, and 'girlfriend' makes me want to punch someone) can think of at the moment. Meanwhile, you may relax, as I convert your beautiful will-be words into poetry.

Labels: bleh, love, open letter