So Beverly just finished the Homestuck Intermission (the first one)

And she has the fattest crush on Snowman

She’s spent the last 30 minutes looking up Snowman fanart and sending it to me instead of reading Act IV (posted all of it under a read more because there’s a lot and they’re bit)

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Dear boyfriend,

I still need to answer the other you asked me.

Dear boyfriend,

I love you. I really do. I’m scared and I’m so sure that you want so many things I know I won’t be prepared for for years. Not even just physically but emotionally. I can see it in the way you walk and talk and smile. Each flick of the eyes scares me a little bit more because I can see how they travel and where they go.

Today our date got cut short and a part of me was relieved because I knew I was going to want to talk about all the serious things with you. I want to do that because we need to talk about this stuff. It’s important, and not just to me. The part of me that was upset was because I had a plan that involved us just being together like we used to. Before the question of being physical came to be. Before I had to start worrying what was going on in your mind. 

You know what’s happened in my life and what I hope and wish for and I know the same for you. I know your parents never seemed to care. I know they pushed you aside and never really thought. I know you’ve been confused and hurt and depressed. I know you are. You don’t have to tell me these things because I can see them etched in each line of your face. Each shadow and movement tells a chapter of your life. 

As much as I could never find a gift for you I could probably tell you more about yourself than you think I can.

I know I seem flippant and distant and like I’m not always paying attention. We’ve actually talked about that before. I wish you would just believe me when I say that that’s just what I do. I wish you would just believe me. 

As much hope and laughter as you’ve filled and fill me with when we can have a conversation that flows an almost equal amount of confusion and despair follows as I wonder if you realize some of the same things about me. 

Do you realize I’m depressed? Upset? Does it occur to you I’m still somewhat suicidal? Do you remember that once I tried? I know I’ve told you. I remember the times I did. I remember them all. Sitting in Denny’s. On my porch. Eleven at night. Twelve in the afternoon. Eleven in your car in the parking lot in front of the medical building that we pulled in to because I was sobbing so uncontrollably because my father had threatened my life. Again.

Can we go back to talking until one in the morning on my doorstep? Can we go back to just being together and teasing? Can we go back to all the moment when I wanted to burst and tell you I love you? Is it possible for us to go back?

As much as I am… as much as I am I would very much like to try. Because I do love you. I don’t want these two years to be a fall. I want to go back. Before there was pressure and stress. I want to find the voice to tell you these things, because this build-up will be the death of me. Of us.

I love you.

Love,

Your girlfriend.