How are you so gorgeous and yet alone? I don’t understand it. Your thoughts are so beautiful, so percolating, so…confessional. It’s like I’m reading a shortcut version of your diary with references to TV shows, movies, books, and everything I wish I knew. You’re the biggest nerd I know. It’s ridiculous. You’re constantly analyzing everything. Every time you’re here/I’m there, we go see a movie, and you just won’t stop talking about how the main character’s wonts continually interrelate to the rest of the plot. How realistic that could’ve actually been. And every time I argue “suspension of disbelief,” you just go, “fine, prove it!” And I fail to rise to your challenge every time. But you engage me anyway. It’s just too bad I only see you once a year now but think of you a lot more than that. You’re an incredible person whose mind just won’t stop. I can totally relate. And yet, I don’t know really how to actually reach you. Just as you are intelligent, you are mysterious. Sure, we talk every once in a while, but I always had the sense that there was a shell around your heart. Now, I actually have evidence. I just wish I knew what to do with it. I wish I knew what to do with you. I barely know you. How many people have told you that you’re wonderful? Inside and out. Have I told you enough? Do I seem fake? Can I not be trusted? I guess all I need you to know is how lovely you are. If I could tell you that daily, that would be amazing. If not, hey, at least I get to tell you once a year.