Hey, you.

Yes, you, you dumbass. Don't try to pretend you don't know who I'm talking to. I know you're reading this, so you may as well give up. Do I have your attention now? Good.

I miss you.

This probably won't come as a shock to you, but I miss you. I think about you all the time. I shoveled the sidewalk yesterday and it reminded me of that time when we brushed the slush off your lawn. I remember the time we rode the bus down town and you counted out your pennies to make up $1.75. I would have sworn that the bus driver was going to boot us off, but you smiled your dimpled smile and we made it with out hitch hiking down 99.

You bastard.

The worst part is that I'm becoming one of those girls. I check my email obsessively, I sit next to the phone and jump when it rings. I've even started going on facbook every day and you know how much I hate that.

And so, after 25 days with nothing more than a 'Hey, what's up, I heard it's cold', I am taking a stand. I am mad at you for making it so easy for me to be a clingy person. Actually, I'm mad for a lot of reasons. But I won't get into that because even though there is no 140 character limit, I'm a novelist, I don't do short stories and you do not want to get me started.

I thought we had something special. I know that I'm not the first girl to say that to a boy, but there it is. I though we had something special, but I guess I was wrong. I may be just a notch in your bed post, but you're just  post on my blog.

And, you know, it's not like I'm expecting sonnets. I know better than to wait for Captain Wentworth-esque declarations of devotion from a teenager. All I want is some kind of sign that you think of me when I'm 936 km away.

But wait -

Some people will say that I'm freaking out over nothing. And I do recognize that novels have ruined me, but I still have my common sense to pull me through. Or maybe I just can't recognize a lost cause when I see it. Whatever.

Regardless, I'm going to give this another go. But you are on crack if you think I'm bridging this gap between us. No, you're that one who is gonna take seven steps here.

And even though you shouldn't need incentive - I'm yours.

Don't screw this up, George.