twenty-two june
three : thirty-six p.m.

he wrote to me, a week ago. maybe more than a week ago:

"so once upon a time a little bird told me that you were speaking of me fondly, and it made me think of all the times that i was speaking of you fondly and how is it that we never spoke nice things to each other, when i really wanted to, so here i am humbly requesting to be your friend if it is not too late, because of all the times that i glanced at you out of the corner of my eye, and been too shy to talk to you, thinking that you were like, why does this guy keep looking at me, i wish he wouldn't but in fact maybe you were not."