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mood |
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cheerful |
] |
| [ |
music |
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time to dance - panic at the disco |
] |
"You're staring at me." "Can you blame me?"
I'd forgotten the way pretty words make my stomach turn in delightful ways, the way that all it takes is someone to smile, tell me I'm beautiful, hold my hand, make me feel amazing. I can be happy forever that way.
This is the most illegal thing I've ever done, btw. I think it's actually significantly closer to illegal - three years is something new for me. But he...it's different, and I'm leaving on Saturday, and we're all a hot mess, this cast and crew, so it's only right that I let myself become a hot mess, too.
BTdubs, this show is going to be really awesome, and I'm really sad I can't stay for the whole thing, that I can only be at opening.
I don't know if he actually knows how old I am. I don't think it's ever come up in direct conversation. Oops. But, this is like when I hooked up with that twelve year old girl when I was sixteen...I didn't know. He's sixteen and looks twenty-one; I'm nineteen and look seventeen. It works somehow.
I can't believe this is so highschool. He's so old, to be so young. I'm so old, to be so young. This cast makes me seventeen again, and I rather like it.
I missed the butterflies mixed with the jealousy, the way crushes used to make me feel. I missed the awesomeness/awkwardness of seventeen, and I have it back, even if it's for less than a week.
This shit only happens to me, really.
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