[blurryface]

You make me happy. Like, really happy. You act like you actually want to be around me, like you actually want to talk to me. I never want to stop talking to you, you're such a funny, handsome, amazing boy. I'm self conscious about the way I look and act and you make me forget about all that. Because you know what? You make me feel pretty. You make me feel like I'm worth something. You accepted the fact that I was bisexual, and you didn't shove your Mormon religion in my face, and I didn't shove my music religion in your face, we had a talk about it and it didn't get heated. You taught me how to swing dance, and we danced in front of everyone at Spring Fling. Call me crazy, but I think one day I'll be able to tell you about the trauma I've endured in my life, how I used to cut, and how I've attempted suicide and still feel depressed, because you give me that confidence. We're not together. I wish we were. If we were, though, I'd tell you, because I trust you. You give me more than anyone's ever given me. Please turn 16 already.