dear vanessa,

i have a feeling you might not come back.

i mean, for all i know, you could've just been on a road trip passing through town, and you could have just randomly decided to stop at this walmart.

i don't know what state you live in, but i wish i did. i wish i could know if i have a chance at ever seeing you again.

i'm fucking love-sick and it's not fair. you probably don't even remember that i exist, yet you taunt me and my head all fucking day.

i wish credit cards had fucking states or addresses on them.

i just. . . i don't know.

i'm probably wasting all my time thinking about you. i don't have a chance with you.

but i want you, nonetheless.

i think it's safe to say i fucking love you, at this point.

but you were so nice. . .

no one's ever treated me that nice.

sincerely, jonathan