Later today, I’m going to Borders just like any other Sunday and read “By The Time You Read This, I’m Already Dead” by Julie Anne Peters. I started reading it last week, and I’m finishing it today.

My mom thinks books are bad for me because she thinks they influence my “bad” imagination. Too bad, it’s her fault for letting me go to Borders every weekend.

“Did you watch Rugrats?”
“Uh, duh!”
“Okay, how about Powerpuff Girls?”
“Of course!”
“Okay, did you know that Tommy and Buttercup were the voice of the same person?”
“Uh… Hm. Wait, yeah! I knew that.”
“You did?”
“Hah, yup. I found out on Tumblr.”
“… So did I.”

My hope and faith of the human race has been restored. So, excuse my naive self while I wish upon a time.

That was how long our phone call took. I haven’t yet understood why it’s so peaceful and easy to talk to you. You even said the past two days conversing with me was the most you’ve ever spoken in a short period of time.

Excuse me while I feel like a creeper for talking about you.