You are the worst thing that’s happened to me since I graduated. What I thought I needed was a confident, ass-kicking, ridiculously intelligent jerk. Someone I could direct all my rage at when the clouds passed over my worst day behind the receptionist’s desk, someone who could tell me I was always right when you really just wanted to fight me. Someone who I could feel good about instead of just think about. Instead, you are a timid, questioning, unbelievable genius who makes me wonder about everything in life. You make me smile when I’m sad, but you never anger me when I am frustrated. Your choppy voice is, at its worst, a recipe for repetition and boredom, but at its best, a thoughtful interpreter of life. I can’t say I’m necessarily attracted to what I look at, but I can’t pull away from what it is you represent: every guy who wishes they had more than what they have (which is usually nothing) and doing all they can to charm that kind of girl. But this is home for you. I wish I could give you more than what I offer. You are the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. I just don’t know if this could be my home. If I knew, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t feel so paralyzed right now.