I don’t care what you say. We’re engaged. I asked, you said yes. What changed since then? Not a damn thing that I can think of. Oh except moving the one big road block that was standing in our way (rather ineffectively). You want to break up with me, go for it. Actually don’t. You’re mine. I’m yours. Period. Paragraph. I will carve my name into your forehead if you need help remembering that.
I see what you did.
It’s in there so deep it’ll never come out.
Or did I do that?
Did I trick you into tricking me or did you trick me into tricking you into tricking me?
I love you, crazy person. I love you like a junkie loves heroine. I love you like a fat kid loves cake. Which as it would turn out is a whole fucking lot. Infinity billion.
Let’s run away together. Or run toward together. Or stay in one place spinning in a circle. I don’t really care as long as it’s with you.
Were you serious about the brand? Because I would totally do that.