tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70212915396355290122011-04-21T18:44:44.999-07:00the life of a musician who is dreams big and lives life to the fullest.aercireshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962433392099445811noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7021291539635529012.post-30557429916048692762007-09-08T22:46:00.001-07:002007-09-08T23:04:10.282-07:001:48am.<br /><br />Dear Nick,<br /><br />I just got back to my apartment on campus about five minutes ago. It has been a rough night on both of us, I'm sure, but while driving back I decided to use this blog to show you after a week how I am feeling.<br /><br />The entire ride home, I wanted to turn back so that I could just run back into your arms. I'm crying now thinking about it.<br /><br />Driving home was difficult. After an hour I decided that I would try to be strong enough to handle the note you left in the bag of candy. I was expecting a pre-written letter or something to that caliber, and I had braced myself accordingly. However, when I found it and read it, I could not handle it and cried.<br /><br />I had to stop by my house on the way back for two reasons.<br />1) I needed gas and had left my debit card at my apartment.<br />2) I wanted to get the box of "you" that my mom had put in my room.<br /><br />I was welcomed home by my mother and father, gathered my things while my dad got me gas, and talked to my mother. It was very hard to talk to my mother. I did not want her to yet know that we are taking a break. I lied and said that everything was fine. I knew that if I said that something was not fine, I would not have left the house for another 30 minutes, and I was eager to finally get to bed. She also told me about you and her having lunch in a couple of weeks, which she seemed happy about, and I am hoping that by then this will all be figured out.<br /><br />As I left the house, just as I entered the car, I started crying again. It was tough to act like everything was just peachy.<br /><br />I am now back in my room at my apartment, with the box of "you" in front of me. I'm about to open it and remember all of the time we have spent together.<br /><br />I'm crying.<br /><br />I just looked through the box -- looked through my memories with you. I have so many fond memories with you. I will never forget them. I wish I was with you right now, giving you shoulderblade kisses.<br /><br />Another kleenex used.<br /><br />I can't stand this. I can't stand not being with you. Like you said tonight, you are different than most guys. You make me feel special; you make me feel beautiful (even when I don't feel beautiful.)<br /><br />I just looked at our picture in the Mackinac Island frame you clever bought underneath my nose. I cried harder, and ended up having to give it a hug. It's the best substitute without you physically here.<br /><br />I miss you, Nick, and I miss you because I'm in love with you.<br /><br />I love you.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7021291539635529012-3055742991604869276?l=iheartmarimbas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>aercireshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962433392099445811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7021291539635529012.post-85130097188790428982007-02-02T05:36:00.001-08:002007-02-02T05:37:06.892-08:00did you know that?<br /><br />this brown background is so pretty!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7021291539635529012-8513009718879042898?l=iheartmarimbas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>aercireshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05962433392099445811noreply@blogger.com1