Chances are I have no idea what you think, how you feel, or who you even are. I don’t really know much of anything, I guess…

Except for the fact that the sand is soft, especially when clinging to your body. The sun is bright and I have to squint to steal glimpses of you. I may not be that pretty, but neither are you. You’re small and awkward and nothing that I’d ever expected.

I want so badly to make you feel something. I know that I can’t- not really, anyway. Not unless it’s 2am and it’s summer and we’re wasted. That’s when I know you the best. That’s when I don’t know you at all.