i know what i like on my toast (natural, crunchy salted peanut butter + bonne maman raspberry preserves)
and i know what characters i like to dress up as at harry potter premieres (bellatrix)
i basically know how to decide on the things that don’t really matter that much.
so when i’m sitting under my covers, all bundled up like i’m a hermit crab in its shell. unsure if i want to rub elbows with the steven pinkers and noam chomskys of the world. or be on the same stage as andy samberg.
tell me i can do both. believe i can do both when i’m not sure if i can. because god almighty, i would miss arguing with people about false cognates and whether dogs can understand what we are saying or not. and it would make my heart hurt if i couldn’t make people laugh for a living.
because gosh darnit, i know dogs can understand what i’m saying. and andy samberg would be such a lovely, platonic guy friend to have.
(and because i also secretly hope you are andy samberg. i cannot lie.)
your future lady-friend who knows what types of books she likes to read (ww2 france, books narrated by dogs and the like), colors she likes her nails to be (muted pinks and purples), and that she likes boys that are more decisive than herself.