This is the next chapter in my project of archiving all of my memories about you so that I can finally be free of the past. Continued from previous post.

When I was younger, I said “I love you” all the time. I threw those three words around like birdseed, usually following the words, “Thank you so much!”. Once, my dad suddenly kicked me off the computer while I was about to send off an email to a classmate thanking him for his help, and he saw that I had finished with the forbidden three words.  Needless to say, he sternly lectured me about how eighth graders cannot possibly know what love means.

In my junior year of high school, I still hadn’t changed that much. I was at my house doing some last minute prepping with my debate partner for a tournament the next day, when my printer broke down. Not knowing what to do, I got online (back when people still used AIM and before the days of gchat). Using my classically middle school screen name with all its XX’s, azn, and baby’s, I scanned my buddy list to see who could help. Even though I had just met you the day before at Chinese school, I double clicked your screen name – you seemed like a computer-savvy guy despite all your ghetto pretenses. As my buddy icon flashed in the lower right corner, proudly declaring  “Italians are Hot”, you patiently walked me through various fixes, probably thinking to yourself that I was the biggest ditz ever. Even though we couldn’t get it working again, I was so grateful that you would take an hour out of your time to help me, that I told you,

me: Thank you, I love you so much!

short pause

you: lol

me: what, is my love unrequited?

long pause

you: we’ll see

Perhaps you weren’t the greatest person at recognizing hyperbole followed by sarcasm, but you took me seriously. Three days later, I saw in my chat screen:

you: so.. do you want to talk about what you said a few days ago?

I had no idea what you were talking about, so you said to forget it. But we didn’t forget it, did we? Because all of a sudden we started hanging out and talking (and flirting) all of the time. It’s like, with that conversation, a little birdie popped the idea that perhaps something romantic could happen between us. Later, well into our relationship, we both confessed that if I hadn’t said I love you, and if you hadn’t misunderstood me, we would probably never get to know how great we are together.

You didn’t really tell me that you loved me much, because you claimed that I should just know. Even though I might have overdone it with my flippancy, sometimes I think that saying I love you too much is better than too little.

mood: 5 can’t. fall. asleep…

physical tired: 5 why am I such an insomniac?

spiritual tired: 3 GRE coming up