Let me know

Or,

My First Love Letter

Or,

An Attempt at sidestepping the awkwardness of courtship by charming the subject with so-called “casual humour” which I totally didn’t rewrite and fine-tune all night, and still it fails hilariously, although that’s pretty ironic if you think of it, which you shouldn’t, because it’s stupid and this is probably the most unsellable title evar. I think I’ll turn it into a subtitle and label this abomination with something that sounds more artsy-smartsy, like… “Let me know” or “My First Love Letter” or some such Bullshit… Damn, I just went meta-meta… Gorbachev tore down the fourth wall

First off, I’d like to thank the academy, whoever that is, mom and dad for being my benefactors for this my brief stay in the flesh, and finally, a shout out to my main man alcohol, the great enabler! Without alcohol, the process would have been even more awkward (yes, it gets worse)

Okay, so I assume you’ve concluded two things regarding the events last night;

A, that I like you

B, that I’m a horrible kisser

Ice. Fucking. Broken. Booyakasha!

Okay, now I’ll continue with the excruciatingly awkward second step of my dastardly plan to avoid “us” getting weird

As I am not a reader of minds, believe it or not, I have no idea about how you feel about this entire ordeal

Personally, I’m terrified at the unending list of implications the seemingly innocent act of kissing you has, new ones popping up all the freaking time

So here it is; merry Christmas

Sorry, red herring, freaking defensive humor is working overtime today

You are about to witness the unveiling of some sincere emotion, now this is a real rarity, coming from a sly’n’shy-high’n’dry-guy like I (I may not have killer abs, but my rhyming skills gotta count for something, right? RIGHT??)

I really like you

Like, a lot

Like, a whole lot

Like, you’re on my mind like Kenni’s on crack

Like, I’ve got to get you into my life like Paul McCartney

Like, I really want to give it a shot

Like, I can’t go on not knowing if we could have had something (‘cause if I’m anything, it’s melancholic, and don’t wanna listen to THAT bullshit)

Like, you’re my wonderwal,l or some such nonsense The Gallagh made up while high

Like, all sounds are muted while I think of you (clichés exist because they have some grounding in reality you know, although I guess it’s arguable how much of reality is present within the phenomenon of infactuation)

Like, thinking of you soothed my hangover better then any paracetamol a pharmacist could sell me in good conscience

Like, I’ve debated with myself, and choose this to be a chance at something new, not a risk of ruining something I have

Like, I’m writing this shit while the sun rises from behind my laptops screen, dim from power depletion, after a night of contemplation and endless rewriting of this sad excuse of a confessional document you a reading at this very moment (unless you are now reminiscing about this line, in which case I suggest you get a better past, how’s not really my problem)

Like, I’m making up a lot of shit and semi amusing meta-text to try to get you to like me more and therefore sway you into making a decision that’ll be more favorable to my cause (they pen is mightier than the sword, bitches!(Not that I was thinking about swaying you by sword, mind you(and not that  I think you, the reader and person that suddenly is quite larger than life is a “bitch”, nor that really anyone is, I’m not sexist… at least not until you refuse me my sandwich(semi kidding(abusing the parenthesize/parenthezy/parenthesis’s/parenthes.o.s., are we?(you have no idea what the plural form of  “parenthesis” is, do you?(writing lots of language geekery no one gives two fucks about because of euphoria, are we?( yes we are(shit this is going to have so many fucking parenthesis endings(how do I write my self out of this one, you might ask?(simple, welcome to the wonderful world of EMOTICONS!!1!(I’m gonna make a smiley face with a lot of smiles/mouths/area of the head used to convey positive emotion through mimicking!(Kinda self-explanatory, really(well, if this is the explanation, I guess it wasn’t(nice meta… for a noob( all this self-deprecation is getting old( right you are, smiley face powers, ACTIVATE :))))))))))))))))))

If there are not seventeen endings, I have failed at life and is not worthy the attention of such a fine specimen of the female kind such as yourself

Feel free to count them, I sure as hell did, several times, just to make sure my stupid meta-joke wouldn’t fall completely flat

Now it just kinda falls on its metaphorical face, breaks every bone in its hypothetical body and makes everybody so embarrassed they have to look away and think of their respective nonexistent homes, as they are figments of my love drunk imagination, extras in an anecdote of things that happened in my head while I was high on hormones

Incidentally, and completely reverse engineered, that smiley face sorta looks like my face thinking of you, except I Iook more like goofy, with the “A-hydr!” part and all

I know this is a lot to process (and most of it irrelevant bullshit too, I know, I’m hard to love) but I really need to get this of my chest or wherever I store my slightly skewered version of our lips touching

Now, if this is all some delusion from my over analytical clusterfuck of a mind, which is quite likely, a small voice is whispering as this communication is coming to a close and I might have to share this with you and it might have, GASP, IMPLICATIONS!!!!, feel free to call me a sorry loser and shit, it’s coo’ (if you don’t remember what’s coo’, go back to before shit went italic, back when the alphabet wasn’t as crooked as Nixon)

But if I’m on to something (anything, really), let me know’

Let me know

Let me know

Let me know

(Brainwashing you into) Letting me know

I could be your erotically plumb Edward, although rather than watching you sleep I’d be REM’ing and snoring like hell besides you.

That would make me a happy camper (is that a tent in your pants or(OH COME ON MAN, you were this close to declaring your affection to a girl without mentioning penises… You dun goofed Stig))

Anywho, I’d very much like for us to share some time together on this rock we call everything

Regards, the cynic whose stone cold heart you melted with a dance floor kiss or two. Or eight.

Who count’s anyways?*

*Me

Sunrays are invading my room

A freaking cock (Now that it’s out in the open…(pun retroactively intended)) just cock-a-doodle-dun-did

Now the sky is brightening, and the monkey’s off my back

I might catch an hour of sleep if I’m lucky (EDIT: I wasn’t)

Your move, sunshine

PS: (soothing piano music) When I was seventeen, I wrote a bullshit loveletter to a girl I hardly know (soothing piano music is suddenly cut off by a boy whose insecurity when it comes to bonding is threatening his already questionable sanity)

PPS: Inb4 calling me a hipster/emo/fag