I’m sorry I went blonde. I’m sorry I have hazel eyes. I’m sorry my hips were too curvy and stuck out when I wore tight jeans. I’m sorry my hands were too small, and my smile was too wide. I’m sorry I threw you at my family when my grandma died. I’m sorry I thought you looked cute when you had your hair a certain way. I’m so sorry I kissed you everytime you made me smile. And I’m really sorry that some of these apologizes were for things I have and had no control over.

But, I’m not sorry that we spoke and got close and lost it all again. That just goes to show you how when you care as much as we did, and we let it fall apart, we are both left with guilt. You don’t just stop caring, so that I am giving you my up most apology for because when we do grow out of touch for a little, I will be back there in your mind. As you are in mine.

He’s a good kid. He may have red hair, but he looks at me like I am a shining star, how ever hard to read he may be. He’s not you. But he’s a new kind of wonderful. The kind that opens you and makes you feel invincible. The one that makes you see noone else.

Dear robbie r, I’m doing me. Come back for me though. Let’s be friends again. Love, your emmie girl.

Your beautiful, tall, freckly, and definatly have no way of ever not making me smile.

Your different from all the rest, you take me away from everything. You make me forget the past.

You have a je ne sais quoi about you, I can sit and watch you talk for hours, and not say a word. I cant describe how smoothly you drive, and how much comfort I already feel around you, even though I am crying inside nervous.

You pick me up when I fall, litterally. You make sure I’m okay. You care, I can tell. I want to cry because I feel like you dont like me. When I fall, I fall hard. I cant focus when you are around, my words totally just spill out around me.

I cant text you, I get nervous that I am going to bother you or something.

I like looking up at you, into your eyes. Your kisses are small. delicate, smooth, classy. Everything I have always wanted. You dont get it, everytime my BBM’s sound retarted, I really dont know what im trying to say.

The first day I met you, I thought I was never going to see you again, and when I did, again I made a complete fool of myself. I havent known you very long, but everything about you is beautiful.  I get so nervous that I am going to fuck this up. I fuck everything up. But I dont want you to go, I dont want this feeling to end. You light up everything.

I am truely sorry I smile a lot, and I really aint giggling about you. I giggle about everything, I am just so happy when I am around you, even though I am the epitome of optomistic.

And even though you have the same name as my ex boy friend, your a ginger. You are the ginger, and even though you have no soul, you can have some of mine, its big. It can split, but Im not Voldemort. So pleasepleaseplease, be kind.

Oh and if you like me, let me know. This guessing is leaving me in suspense, killing me even. I would love to spend all the time in the world with you.

I keep repeating myself over and over when I say I am not going to care. Its not
that I want to care, there's just this everlasting feeling stuck down in the pit
of my heart that makes it impossible...or nearly enough. I just don't care how
many days we go without talking, it doesn't matter to me because I'm part of
your life. I know I am, and you apologize when I'm not in a conversation with
you and then you call me on oovoo and it all goes away because for once, for one
night, you smile and laugh at me and my jokes and you look happy. I don't care
if you just look it and you don't feel it. That puts me on top of the world. It
makes my heart strings break out their best voices and sing the songs that make
all the stars a line the night sky and look like the surrealist image of
perfection.

Oh god if you knew this, I would be scared to death of what you would say
because I am sure I wouldn't be able to handle it. Or maybe you'll look at me
and smile and let me back into life as more and more and more.