I want it to be more of a loft than an apartment. It has to have three bedrooms, and a kitchen that isn’t so small I can’t cook eggs in the morning effectively. I hope for a view. Views are nice. My bedroom can’t be that small, but I don’t mind if it is. I don’t even have to have a bed; I could just have a mattress on the floor so to save room for my artsy stuff. All my art would be on the walls. He has the room next to mine (hopefully). I don’t even use my room for sleeping much; just for writing and getting away from all the guys. We have cable, and Tivo. I don’t think I could live without it now. I’ll make him watch all the shows I like. Except for Glee. I won’t make him do that. We have a plan. I make breakfast, he makes dinner.

I can’t understand our thought process. It’s seriously connected. The minute I start thinking about after high school, and how I wish I could be with him long enough to move in with him, he says that he was actually going to ask me to move in, after I graduate! I don’t believe it. Are we soul mates? Are we really made for each other? It doesn’t seem like we could be. Two years is a long time from now. I don’t know if I can wait.

How could I not have seen it? It was barely a year ago I met him. Barely a year he fell for me. Barely a year ago I screwed up his life…no matter how many times he differs and says it wasn’t my fault.

Nearly two weeks ago I fell for him. Nearly two weeks I said I loved him. Two weeks. TWO weeks. It’s doesn’t make sense, because it feels so real. It’s like singing. I love him. So easy. Like falling asleep in math. So easy.
It’s just easy to love him. Easy to be with him. Easy to plan, and pretend like we’ll actually move in together in two years.

Two years.
Two weeks.