Another letter

Dear you,

It was really cool of you to offer to come to my place when our original plan would not work. It was also really cool that you not only came to my house, but you talked to my family (all 7 of them) without being like "oh jeez, these people are annoying." And I just wanted to let you know, the consensus was that you were a "nice" and "sweet" boy, and also "a great guy". Although papa did say "he's a bit thin though. You'll have to feed him!" (but he still liked you, despite your lack of muscular bulk) And also when I bridged the subject of you possibly driving with me in the car someday, mother actually said "I'd consider it." Please note: just won't even let me ride with my best friends. Feel special. And my dad saying you could come back anytime?! He pretty much chased the last guy out of the house.

Your sweater deserves a paragraph of it's own, because my thoughts seem to linger on it as I run through the events of the past seven and a half hours. I loved it. It was possibly the best sweater with character I have ever seen. You were right, the whole shapeless sweater thing looked pretty cool on you, and I'm glad you didn't go with your sister's suggestion. You've inspired me to make a thrift store run in the near future and get myself one. It's not the same, of course, but I figure that if you can pull it off, I can pull it off slightly less well, yet pull it off all the same.

I realized as you were walking out the door that I should have said something like "call me when you get home," because that is what a caring buddy would do. And now that I've brought up buddy, I think that we can go to being actual friends now. Because buddy is too light a term for this awesome friendship.

Well, I'm rambling, and tired, and have a lot of my mind, and homework to do, and volunteering early tomorrow morning. But I guess what I wanted to get across was that I'm really, really glad you came over. And for like, the 10th time today, I say: we have to do it again. And hopefully not wait another 3/4 months or whatever it was. Maybe lunch, maybe a football game, where we can watch FOOTBALLERS tackle and stuff. I don't know. But we just have to do it again.

I'm off to bed now, but not before running through that one file of pictures, what was it called again? Oh yeah, 'this folder proves I am a stalker'. Nice.

Best wishes & love & peace & all that good stuff,
Jess