stupid sissy stuff

you haven’t texted me back in two weeks.
i don’t want to seem desperate,
and i know it’s stupid.
(trust me, i know precisely how stupid it is.)
i know that i, in my younger years, told more than one preteen girl more than a hundred times
that they were simply too young to feel heartache.
i remember, with painful clarity and embarrassment, how i stood on a wobbly soapbox
and scolded each one for their naiveté and impertinence.
i know that we’re both barely even graduated,
that i’m practically still a teenager.
…and yet.
and yet i am reminded,
whenever i see your laughing face shining from my contacts,
(you are the one of the select few i have bothered to set a profile picture for)
whenever i read the name “lando hottie”,
(you entered in it that way the first time we met and i shamelessly kept it the same)
i am reminded
of how much i smile and laugh and babble around you,
of how much i act like an utterly blissful and unabashed fool,
of how much i am beginning to finally,
reluctantly realize
that
i,
(actually, really, and truthfully do)
love
you.