The night you told me that I didn't know you was a cold one.
But you were wrong.
I do know you.
I know your dreams. For fame and happiness and a house with a waterfront view. I know your goals. To go to Yale or Columbia. To become a reknown journalist and travel the world.
I know your fears. The way you get smaller in a crowd of people. And you told me yourself, your greatest fear was ignorance. I know the way you put your sleeves over your hands when you get scared, and how you bite your lip.
I know the exact way your brow furrows when something (me) confuses you.
I know how condescending you can get. How irritating and patronizing you can be, just because you're more brilliant than anyone else.
I know that you are amazing. How was it that one little blonde girl could make such an impact in my life? I never expected you. Where the hell was I before you? In the middle of a self-induced nightmare. The things I did. The girls I did. God. Was I really that stupid?
I know that your favorite book is To Kill A Mockingbird, and your favorite play is Pygmalion. I know that you love spicy foods and chocolate (but not together) and you really love movies. I know you hate small spaces, big crowds, and talking on the phone. And you drink WAYYYYY too much coffee.
I know that you dab your pizza with a napkin before you eat it, to get the grease off. You hate grease. And that you get impatient in long lines. I know that you love Autumn the best. And that you only paint your toenails, never your fingernails. But I don't know why. I know you've never been kissed before. I know that you are better than anyone else. And YOU know that too.
I know that you are angry at your parents, and that you love your brother despite everything. I know that you don't have a big social circle, but the friends you do have... you would jump in front of a bullet for them. I know that you are that kind of loyal and loving.
I know that you try to make apathy your mask, to protect yourself. I guess to protect yourself from people like me. But you know, it doesn't work. I can see right through.
I know that you don't wear makeup, except mascara and lip stuff on special occasions. And I know you don't need it at all. I know you don't think much of yourself physically, and it doesn't matter much to you. But I think you're beautiful.
I know that you like lilies, and Converse shoes. And that you can beat anyone in a burping contest. I know you wish you were taller. I know that you won't let anyone get in the way of your solid future. I know that you are a planner - organized and prepared. I know that you don't approve of high school "relationships".
I know your eyes are the color of the coffee you constantly drink, and you are disgusted by "AIM" speak. I know that you need to lighten up sometimes. You're only sixteen, and so serious. I know that you smell really nice.
I know that I could go on forever. M, I do know you. But the most important thing is not that I know YOU, but that you know THIS:
I love you.
