Dear boy,
We had a fight today.
It was stupid; something about games. I was upset and maybe yelled a little bit because I'm overdramatic. You were upset too, unfortunately withoutthe excuse of being over dramatic. I practiced being dramatic and huffed down the street, where you followed, gave up and then huffed right back to your house again. We managed to stay that way for a good, solid 25 minutes {even though it seemed longer} and we huffed and puffed in our own respective corners. I didn't tell you, but I was so worried that we had ruined our whole day. I had plans, you know. It was supposed to be lovely outside, and you were looking kind of adorable as usual. {I wasn't thinking that though, because I was mad of course} I had assumed all was lost.
But I should have known better ... because, as I've discovered before, but always seem to forget, you've never been very good at staying mad at me for long. Before I had even decided to not be upset anymore ... there you were, with your adorable texts, saying how very much you hate it when we're at odds. I finally released my anger {a necessity for moving forward with anything during a fight} and you comforted me, saying how sorry you were and pledged to make everything all right. And then ... you did.
Thanks for the time,
girl
