its like every time i call you or talk to you, i take four steps back. i cant go 30 minutes without thinking of your dumb ass and now that you told me that you *might* come up, its all i can think about. i lay in bed wondering what you would think of it or me or how long it would take before we banged or even just what you would do when i went to class. calling you the other night felt like a good idea but now it just sucks. drunken me needs to remember what sober me knows, that its hopeless.