Dear High School Sweetheart,

Here's the thing, I want you. Pretty bad too. I'm pretty sure you want me too. The drunk text message that I get every night would confirm that. It sucks that you're in Carolina, and I'm in Colorado.

Not to mention:
you want to be a teacher with a stable home, vice I want to be a Pilot on a ship somewhere

you like tall guys, and I'm shorter than you

You want to live here, and I want to live on a beach

The previous John will probably make way more money than me, and he's a Redskins fan.

How can I possibly compete? Please hurry up and fuck me over so I can move on with my twitchy existence.


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