I wrote a really short love story for Valentine's Day

[JakeRose]

Feel free to be as mean as possible.

[QUOTE]You find yourself in another awkward situation. You just can’t seem to have enough, can you? Say something, dumbass. Look at her fucking eyes, it started out so eager and full of hope and now they’re slowly descending with each passing second—for the love of God—say something, you worthless piece of shit. Say anything. At this point, it doesn’t matter what you say, anything would be better than this cold awkward silence. Say fucking spaghetti. Say literally anything that comes to your mind.

“Fucking spaghetti,” you blurt out.

She has a blank look on her face.

Oh, great job. Really good job, you should go home and polish up the Nobel Prize you won for being a huge fuck up. Sit down, you just always have to take everything so literally, don’t you? Now watch her grab her coat and leave in 3… 2… 1…

“Wait, wait, wait!” you yell in the middle of the restaurant.

She waits.

Great idea, poor execution. Just be thankful this girl is genuinely nice, anyone else would have disregarded you the moment you walked into this restaurant with your scuffed hoodie. Alright, what are you waiting for, sport? She’s waiting. She has that look in her eyes again. Say something, say something; say something. Say something? Say something: say something—say something!
“Um, I’m sorry, you know, but. I dunno, I mean. We’ve only been going out for two months.”

She hides her eyes behind her hair and sits back down.

You’ve really done it now, mate. Though, to be fair, you didn’t do anything wrong as long as that was the truth. So, is that really how you feel or are you just being a spineless mollusk again? Alright? You can’t fucking lie to me. I’m your brain, smart guy. Sure, it’s only been two months but for a miserable little cunt like you that’s practically a lifetime. Just calm down, calm down. Do you want to hear the numbers again?

Your normal BPM: 85. Your BPM when you’re watching her laugh along to a movie: 175. The normal diameter of your pupil: 2.7 mm. The diameter of your pupil when that grasshopper landed on her finger and she screeched for your name: 6.8 mm. The amount of times you’ve walked up to a ledge before you met her and thought about the pointlessness of human life and how no one’s ever really happy and that everything turns back to ashes and that in the grand scope of the universe you’re just an ant climbing up the hill until a much larger entity decides to burn you with a magnifying glass just for fun so you might as well fucking jump: every time. The amount of times you’ve walked up to a ledge after you met her and thought about how beautiful the vastness of the cosmos really is and how Carl Sagan’s words finally mean something to you and somehow out of the billions and billions of time and space you managed to be here in the best time in human history in the only planet where you can listen to Vivaldi and go to Universal Studios to taste Butterbeer—sure it’s kind of a disappointment but the point is you can taste it so you hold on to that fucking railing for dear life: every time.

You feel that? Your BPM is up to 180 now. Do it, you piece of shit. For once in your life have the balls to do what it is you want do.

That’s it, grab her hand! Pull her out of this miserable fucking restaurant. Out those bullshit tacky doors, into the streets, up the hill, take her to see the ocean, take her to the Northern Lights, take her to your parents, to your wedding day, to the birth of your children, to your funeral, to your couch so you can both just sit around and not really say or do anything but somehow feel completely satisfied and even after spending a lifetime together every so often you’ll glance at each other with a smile and you’ll remember what it’s like to have butterflies in your stomach. You’ll remember this night and how you said

“I love you too!”[/QUOTE]

[bitches]

Spaghetti is red;

your story is okay;

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