“I just was scared that you didn’t love me. And I didn’t think you could because of how ugly I am. I should’ve known better. That’s not who you are. You took one look at me and still said you’d seen worse. And somehow, when I’m around you, I don’t feel ugly at all.”
Dear Lindy, I’ve been thinking about letters recently. The real kind. Longhand. And how it’s terrible that nobody’s writing them anymore. And so I decided to start one to you, today. And I’m going to write to you every day for a long, long, long time because I think… I think I might be in danger of falling in love with you
The Human Who Belongs To Me wants to make herself feel good, so she asked me to report that she’s done stuff around the house this weekend. I supervised a few things - yes, that’s me on the counter. But for other things I’m just taking her word for it because I was somewhere else doing something else. I was not hiding from The Very Noisy Red Machine That Sucks the Floors. No indeed.