I wish you lived here too.
Someone I could do the things I like to do with.
Someone who doesn’t judge me.
Who likes to sit out in the rain.
Who hordes types of tea.
Who laughs at all the wrong places.
Who would rather spend a day writing than doing anything else.
You’re much too far away.
And we’re both failing at this communicating thing.
So why can’t you just live here too?
Someone I can sit with and do the things I like to do with?
Someone to walk down to go buy sodas?
Someone to watch horrible horror movies?
Someone to find a joke in nearly everything?
Why can’t you live here too?
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