Mr. Big, I ask you one thing. Why? You've put me through hell, stringing me along, acting like you like me, but really you said you didn't. If I pull away, you act like a sick puppy. It took me a while, eighth period to be exact, that I have real feelings for Mr. Big. I actually am growing to miss his way of talking, his smile, his eyes, and of course, how he always made me feel like I meant something to at least one person in this planet. Of course, Mr. Big likes some girl in his bio class.
Mr. Big, I think am growing to miss you. Please answer your phone. I kinda want to hear from you. I don't know why I do, nor do I know why birds fly, and rivers flow, but I know I want to. It's one of those things that just is, with no logical sense. I want to hear you use your big words, watch you use your math formulas, or even sit with you while you read.
Mr. Big, I think that I am growing to love you. Or fall in love with you. Or just fall for you in general. I don't know anything about these things.
My Big versuses Carrie's Big? Hers knew romance. Mine wouldn't unless it was spelled out right in frount of him, written in some alien formula.
I miss you Mr. Big. Do you miss me too?
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