sext: i pray your smile will never fade.
sext: you look prettiest when you aren’t thinking about being pretty.
sext: you are poetry.
sext: the first time you wrote me poetry it knocked my knees to the ground and suddenly nothing else mattered but the way you loved me and you loved me so fucking good.
sext: i need you to call me whenever you’re free, i want to tell you about my day.
sext: i told my mom about you, she said you sound like something i gotta hang on to.
sext: i know it’s 3 am but i just drove for 4 hours straight and now i’m in seattle, but the streets don’t feel alive and i wish you were here to take in the calm with me. seattle has never felt calmer than now, but i need you.
sext: dude i really fucking love you.
sext: your music taste is flawless, send me more songs you write poetry to. i need to feel something.
sext: do you know what it means to be alive? i don’t and i’ve been thinking about it for hours. don’t you ever feel like life is fake and we don’t exist so nothing really matters? text me when you can, i’m having an existential crisis.
sext: you smelled really good today and your hands were much softer. have you been using a new body wash perhaps?
sext: you’ve grown up so much since i’ve known you. i’m enamored by you.
sext: i’m coming over, no excuses, i’m bringing soup and i’ll make you a grilled cheese, cut diagonally the way you like it.
sext: i miss you, come home soon.
sext: can we just discuss obama and biden’s friendship for a couple minutes?
sext: my dog misses you.
sext: i feel like i’ve known you forever. i want to know you forever.
sext: dude, i really fucking love you, okay?
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