”But dear, he’s got you all wrong. He’s got you in fancy restaurants when you like two pound burgers straight off the grill. Weekend road trips to Disneyland when the roller coaster you should be riding are the white-water rapids up north. If he really loved you, you’d be laying together on the dock of the lake beneath the stars talking about everything. Talking about nothing. Eighty-five dollar, flower shop bought roses don’t, can’t ever mean sorry. Where’s the care in that fifteen minute trip down the road. He should be out there taking you out on an adventure, picking your own flowers. Keen into learning the things you get excited over. I bet it’s those perfectly cupped white tulips or purple lilies. That’s happiness. That’s the sorry you deserve.

       Because I know you. And sometimes girls like you need to be taken out for a goddam beer, not a bucket of ice cream. Coatless nights sitting on the curb, drunk as hell, and a little talk about all the shit you hate in life. And we should just let you talk and talk until you fall asleep on our shoulders after hours of drunken slurred words. Driving you home, carrying you up your stairs, and tucking you into bed at four after-midnight. That’s sorrow. That’s the comfort you deserve. 

          It’s because girls like you don’t need to be filled with the idea of love, but should rather experience of it. Because watching those cute chick-flicks and horror films in the cinemas are just an idea. But lurking abandoned buildings, hopping over fences, rummaging though dust, and sitting on rooftops with film cameras and cigarettes is an experience. You have impressions, you have feelings, ideas and opinions. Things to share and discuss on a deeper level, intellectually and spiritually. That’s how you truly get to know someone. That’s beauty, That’s the love you deserve.”