If I can’t have love, I want the beach.
I really can’t wait until summer. I’m slowly falling for you and this is a problem. During the summer, you won’t be around. And I’ll miss you. But I know that this is for the best. You are older than me. You don’t live anywhere near me. And sure, you’re turning into something I could call a best friend. But it’s hard being best friends with someone that you want to be with. Take Kohl for example. I love him. With all my heart. He’s my best friend, but it’s hard to talk to him sometimes, because I miss him dearly. And you — it’s becoming the same thing. It’s hard to hear you talk about other people like this. It’s hard to know that things are going to change. You like me. I like you. But that’s what it’s probably always going to be. We’ll never be together. I know you want me there, and I want to be there too. But I still want to take my chances to go to California for a while. With someone that actually wanted to be with me. And maybe still does. I love him, and I’m infatuated with you. In my mind, love overthrows infatuation. I’m afraid of falling in love with you. I don’t want to fall in love with you. If I do, I’ll just get hurt, and I’m tired of getting hurt. The beach though. If I can’t have love, I want the beach. I want the ocean on my skin, leaving the slightly salty taste. I want the warmth of the sun, radiating on my skin. I want the grains of sand between my toes, soft like a pillow. I want to surf. I want to wipeout, try again. Repeat. I miss the ocean. I miss the sun.
I can’t wait.
