I have a crush on you, but that’s where it’s gonna end.
You need to get your shit together.
You need to get your heart sewn up.
You need to get your sweatshirt off my floor and your song out of my head and your smile below your shades.
You need to stop making me watch Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke lying around in bed, because I go, “Oh, that should be us,” and that’s bad, because it won’t be us, because it can’t.
For one thing, I’d never wear a tank top after sex. For another, you’re way cuter than Ethan Hawke.
But really it’s because of your Don’t Cares. When I’m with you, my boundaries blur, and it’s four AM in a diner, in a drug den, in a movie star’s apartment, and your Don’t Cares become mine. And I always, always care. And it scares me, and you do too, and it’s like getting into a shower and realizing it’s cold too late. My breath catches. My skin pinks. And everything shines too white on the walls, an Annunciation of soap and shampoo and sixty degrees.
I have a crush on you but that’s where it’s gonna end.
[JOURDAN DUNN - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]