I don't know for certain, but I think that girl is flirting with me.

Everyone has that one significant moment. When everything changes. When their world is flipped upside down. I remember mine. Sitting in Tim Hortons, with a girl I have never met before. She's spent hours running through my mind, and I've debated our compatibility, our chance of success, my chance of being good enough for her. We order, food and coffee and I am mesmerized by her order. A large double double, with lasagna and a donut on the side. One point for compatibility. We sit at a small table in the middle, my choice. Close enough to the door to give her the chance to run, but far enough that she'll have to make it evident. No more unknowns for me. If she's going to leave, I am going to know.

Mid way through her meal, she drops some. Off her shirt, the table and down to the floor. Most girls would be embarassed. But not her. This is it. Something inside me awakens. Something unknown. She laughs. Smiles. Her lip cocks, and her eyes cross. I'm blown away. This look, I want to see the rest of my life.

Everything changed. Hope was born. Maybe this is everthing I have been searching for my whole life. I have never been certain of much. And the things I was certain of, was pain, darkness, blood, and betrayel. Now. Now, I am certain of hope. That's all I need. I know it will lead to love. It scares me, but I have never wanted anything as much as this. I'm willing to give everything, to allow this fire to breath. To let it consume me. To consume us. To make us one. This passion, and love, is deeper than any emotion I've ever felt. The years of hate, anger and despair - Don't come close to this. It's scary. But in a good way.

Fast forward a couple months later. This look comes everyday. And those feelings, are a flood of memories and emotions that give me hope. I fall in love with her deeper and deeper, and am unable to comprehend how this works. I love her with everything I have, and tomorrow she will solidify that love even deeper in a look, a touch, a kiss, a smile. I love this girl. She is my world.

She sleeps off a day that was supposed to be used to make this room ours. But it's ok, I'm not mad. I take care of her, nuturing and loving. I know this day will come, maybe not tomorrow or the next, but the day is coming. The night is always darkest before the dawn, but the dawn is coming. I can see the faint rays come up on the horizon. Rays that speak of marriage, kids, and a lifetime of happiness. I'm excited and can barely contain myself. I don't want to miss a single day of our lives together, but I crave days like when I propose, our wedding, our first and second child, buying a house together, sending our kids off to school. I can't wait and wish they would come faster. But for now, I am patient. Whether I want to be or not. So I'll climb back into bed, drink in her smell, and hold her unwilling to let her go. She's my kind of rain. I love this girl.

Megan Shaina Smith,
I love you. You told me you don't believe it, and this is my vow to you. I will spend the rest of our lives proving that I love you. That I will never leave or forsake you. I love you. With all my heart, mind, body and soul. You're mine, and I am yours.
Forever.
We are.
Infinite.

The Unit

You say you love him, Now are you brave enough to act on it?

Billy Talent

On the drive home, I listen to Try Honesty. I almost lose it. All I want is honesty, and yet I don't get it. Completly blindsided, I wonder where this all came from.

She asks if I'll leave, but doesn't beg me to stay. I'm not sure what she wants anymore.

Reddit and Netflix try to keep my mind occupied, but blood stains are everywhere. Constant reminders that I'll never be good enough.

My instincts are always correct. I knew around four, that she was going to see him. To meet him. She doesn't tell me and it kills me. I convince myself that I am wrong, and there's no merit behind these thoughts. Confirmation comes in the morning as I scrape the ice off the windshield. Just salt into the already ripped apart wounds.

I don't know what she wants. She tells me she hasn't believed a word I've said. How am I supposed to help her, when she has no faith in me. No faith in herself. Grace, is being given a gift that you don't deserve. I tried to give her a gift, but it wasn't recieved. My mind, my heart, my soul, my necklace, my love. None of it is recieved. The things I tell her while she sleeps, not only fall on deaf ears, but on a sub-conscious that will not allow these messages to sink in.

I pick up the razor. Her blood is on my hands. Literally, and metaphorically. I wonder at its power. Something so small, can destroy so much. Devestation. She doesn't get it, but her wrists are not the only ones that feel its calling. Beg for it's release, or understand its addiction.

Her cuts are deep and many. Im concerned, and she's angry. Mad that I know her. Mad that I know this. Mad that I don't let it go. She desperatly tries to push me away. With her words, and her actions. Something tells me she doesn't want this, and she'll do anything to force my hands. But here I'll stand. I'll take the pain, and the hurt. I will endure. For her. I love this girl.

My back is sore, I haven't slept in 24 hours, and won't sleep for 24 more. I lay beside her, wondering if she'll ever accept my love, ever accept me. I try to sleep, but afraid to move. Afraid to hurt her. I drift off, only to be haunted by my dreams. Not the same ones as before, new ones. Ones that speak of hate. Of destruction. Of pain. I snap awake and fight the urge to fall asleep. I want to write, I want to get up, I want to clean, I want to pre-occupy my mind so I don't have to think about this. But I will not leave her. Not now, not ever. She won't believe me, no matter what I say. No matter what I do. The only thing at this point, is to be. To be here. To be beside her. That I can promise her.

I'm not going to leave.
I love you.

Lucy rests her head on my lap. She's seen this before and she knows what to do. She falls asleep in the most uncomfortable way, but she does it for me. She won't leave. All the pain she knows from her past, is no more. I've shown her eternal love, and in return she shows me respect, loyalty, pride, and love. I wonder if I can do this for you. No matter what happens, show you love, because you've shown me love.

I'm not going to leave.
I'm not going to leave.
I'm not going to leave.
I'm not going to leave.
I'm not going to leave.
I'm not going to leave.
I'm not going to leave.
I'm not going to leave.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.  I love you.

I love you.

These words, like most honest words, will be deleted next to midnight...

To Write Love On Her Arms.

I've always loved the intro on the website To Write Love On Her Arms. Its beautiful. It's broken. And it describes everything I've ever known. I've watched it a thousand times, and I'll watch it a thousand more. Tonight, the chords of my heart are plucked by its message. Not because I am Renee, but because tonight, I am Jamie. I am so uncertain. For once, I am not Renee. I'm not saying this, as I am dealing with someone who is suicidal, cutting or depressed. Instead, I am saying this, as I need to go deeper. I need to show the love, that five strangers showed one girl.

"For five days, she is ours to love. We will be her church."

I have more than five days, but I will still be her church. Broken down, she drinks long from the bottle and opens her heart. Her texts describe a girl that I know, who's haunted and trapped by her past. She doesn't know how to get out. But I do. I'll be her sheppard. "Take my hand", I tell her over and over again. Our journey is just beginning, our love is new and fresh. It will be tested. But we will make it. I am sure of this. Her texts scream insecurity, hate and anger. They turn for a moment, and it gives me the idea she can't do this anymore. She can't be in this place. I'm scared. We're so close, and it could be snatched away from me at any moment. Her words blame me, and I'm crushed. I feel responsible for her hurt, and her pain. I can't focus on that. I can't turn this into something about me. It's not what she needs. She needs support. She needs love. She needs me. I love this girl.

This is an odd feeling. I've never been needed. I've never been enough for anyone, yet alone everything. I hate to say it, but in the midst of all this, I believe her when she tells me she loves me. This is a first. Maybe by fixing her, we're fixing me as well. I'm excited. I love this girl.

Reading over Blue like Jazz, I stumble on a part that I never paid much attention to before. Don Miller talks about Love, and God. His words are thoughts on whether we choose love, or whether love chooses us. And I wonder why it can't be both. There's not doubt she chooses me. This love chooses me. But I choose it right back. I choose her. I choose her a thousand times over. I love this girl.

I hate that I love country music. The only thing I listen to now, other than country, is songs she has shown me. Owl city, death cab for cutie, and the spill canvas cover my youtube history. I choose the videos with the lyrics. Looking for the hidden lyrics that tell me she loves me. All of this reminds me of her. She is constantly on my mind. Thoughts of her race day in and day out. Memories, smiles and future plans get me through my day. I love this girl.

She thinks she's broken beyond repair. She's afraid. Afraid of failure, and that she'll mess this up. I won't let her. I need her, just the same she needs me. Others try to get in the way. Try to take her from me. I will fight. For her. In every way possible. I love this girl. Broken or not, I love her just the same. The conversation started with her hurting. Hurting about being broken. I was saddened to hear this. Because it is my fault. But at the same time, I can't help but be slightly excited. Because we can grow. Into the people we want to become. Together. We can intertwine and mold each other. We can become the people we've always wanted to become, and help each other become our Vodka Cranberry's. I love this girl.

I worry about her. I tell her daily to text me when she gets home, and she still doesn't. I worry. About her. Her safety. Her emotions. Her thoughts and feelings. Every minute that passes, thoughts fill my head. Bad thoughts. About her in danger, hurt, or even worse, leaving. The message that I have saved and look at most is "I won't give up on you Ian". This floors me everytime. Using my name, makes it sincere, and true. But also, because I've never heard this before. Everyone gives up. Gets mad, and gets even. I have told her I have never been enough for anyone, and that all I want is to be told that this thinking is wrong. That I am. This doesn't come. Niether does a message of respect. I have longed for the days that someone is proud of me. But I feel as if there is nothing to be proud of. I am a simple man. I don't stand out, and don't do great things. This text, I won't give up on you Ian gives me hope. That one day, one day these words that I have longed for, well leave her lips with truth and conviction. I so despretatly wish that those words will be spoken to my face. And I wait for that day. But for now, this will do quite well.  I love this girl.

She suffers nightmares. I don't know why. I want to know, and will not push, but ready if she ever decides to let me in, I will be waiting and ready. She tells me I keep them at bay on nights I whisper words of love into her ear as she sleeps. I think back to the nights she has suffered from them, and I hate that I fell asleep before my words of true love could be formed. Never again. I will whisper words of love, hope and dreams everyday to keep her demons at bay. I love this girl.

As the night grows on, my thoughts begin to blend. Twelve hour shifts, ruin my creative spirit as I've have thought about these words for hours. Picked apart, never being good enough to tell her. I just want to say I love you and have her believe me. I put the computer down, as owl city fades in speakers, listening to "Lonely Lullaby" the last lyrics repeat "I will never forget you." Fitting. Her facebook pictures, act as a slide show. I miss her. I love her. She is loved, and I hope she knows this. I will see her in less than 24 hours, but it still feels like an eternity. I need her. I miss her. I love her. I love this girl.

For the next five days, years, and the rest of our lives, she is mine to love. And I will be her church.

I wanna be in the love.

It hits me that we won't see the skyline for what feels like weeks. Country plays from the speakers, but there's no stars to look up to. I look at her face, and am amazed by how blessed I am. I won't see her for the next four days, and there is no difference between four and forty. It pains me, that I have to go to bed, cold and alone with no one to cuddle. It pains me more, that when I wake up, I don't have a beautiful smile, smiling back at me. The warmth, not just from her furnace like body, but the love I feel that is warmer than any heater or blanket could provide. I know she loves me, not because she tells me, but because deep down, my soul is so connected to hers. Merged, they became one. Her hurts, are my hurts. Her loves, are my loves. Her soul, is my soul.

I fucked up. I promised to wake her up, and instead I let her down. It didn't hit me until it was too late, that this would be the last night we would spend together for the longest period in our relationship. I drank, and although I wouldn't trade anything for the conversations and bonding to make up for many lost years, It pains me, that I let her down. She claims she's not mad, but I almost wish she was. To be a reminder to choose my actions more carefully next time. Instead, hung over I spend most of the day trying not to puke, and trying to make it up to her. She sits across the table from me, her eyes light up and her smile grows as she catches me once again staring at her. Even after I let her down, she still loves me.

Watching How I Met Your Mother as I pour out my heart, I stop and listen. "It's the little things that brought me to you, and I wouldn't trade them for anything." This floors me for some reason. Even as I know the truth behind its words, a flood of memories come rushing back. She has to remind me its my turn to play darts, because my thoughts are somewhere else. She catches me staring after everyone of her throws. Seeing the joy in her smile, in her laugh, in the way she marks down her victories on the chalk board. I love this. I don't care for darts, but I want to play them everyday now. I didn't think it was possible, but my love grows more and more each day. Watching her this happy, is the greatest feeling in the world. Her, being there with me, means the world to me. My safe haven, my church, and now my soulmate are intertwined. A mixture of beers, darts, and wiggle dancing screams love in my face, like I've never seen before. I melt. I am floored. She continues to ask "What?", but words can't describe this feeling. Words will never give this feeling the justice it deserves. I smile and tell her nothing, but she doesn't by it. I kiss her, on the lips, the cheek, and the forehead. I hug her, not willing to ever let go, but alas it is my turn. I can't focus. I can't aim. She wins. The look on her face, triumphs over every feeling of my competitive nature. I love this girl.

She's learning, and it warms my heart. She's changing her throught process from being single, to being in a relationship. It's exciting. She referred to us, as "we" and "ours". She opens my door after I open hers. She now gets out two smokes instead of one. She asks if I want a beer, and she tells me she loves me first. We subtly argue who loves and misses each other more. I recently heard a song called I wanna be in love - Jaron and the Long Road to Love. I immediatly am reminded of her. Lyrics with "and someday we'll only fight about who found who; you'll say you found me babe and I'll say I found you" and "I  wish I
could come home to someone who'd hug me; and never let go; and I want love like I see on TV; where you promise me the world and you never set me free." I love this girl. More than anyone or anything I've loved before. I'll never let her go.

She concerns herself that she might be a rebound, I am crushed. I am so sure of this. For once, I believe in something so strong that nothing can shake it. Most days I feel that she feels the same. I can only tell her I love her, because at that point, nothing I do or say will prove otherwise. Instead I'll show her. I'll be here. I'll pour her water before bed. I'll help her up when she stands in the shower. I'll buy her thermal socks. I'll never give up, and never let her go. I love her. This is my absolute.

With her, I am infinite. The love I feel is infinite.
We, are infinite.
I love you.

Something about a girl in a red sundress

You're slowly coming undone, as I'm slowly coming together. The first country song I ever liked, was Something about a truck. Its a pretty decent song. But it's depth goes beyond that for me. Its the memory of you singing it. The first song you ever sang infront of me. Driving around in you're civic, you played this song. In the passenger seat you sway and bob back and forth as you non confidentily belt out the lyrics. And then it hits me as the lyrics leave your lips. "Well all have mercy its a beautiful thing." My heart skips a beat. Meaningful lyrics, that strike a chord deep into my soul. Coming from a girl I barely know, but willing to die for. It's only been a few days since I've known her. But I can't shake the feeling that I've known her all along. What I've always wanted. Its as if I know shes my soulmate, and she's been waiting for me to find her. Am I only one who feels this? I can't be. Am I crazy? Is this real? Days, Weeks, and now a Month has gone by. We've been up, and down, and we go around. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. I don't know how to be the man of your dreams, but I'm trying. Im fighting to be him. Because for me, you're her. I'm going to hurt you, and I'm going to make you feel loved. I'm going to make you mad, and I'm going to make you smile so hard your cheeks hurt. I love you. I feel your love. I've never felt that before. I'm never going to give this up. Or give you up. I write this, not to just show you love. But because this is how I feel.Getting ready for work, tired and emotional. I listen to all the songs that make me think of you. We had a shit day, filled with anger and sadness, but for some reason it doesn't effect me as much. Maybe it's because I can put on a song, and get lost in all the memories of you attached to them. You're my kind of rain. I love you.

I promise not to make you regret loving me

You once sent me a text, it's forever locked into my phone. It read "I promise not to make you regret loving me". This came after two of the possible worst scenarios in our relationship. I look at it everyday, and I hope you believe it, like I do.

Drunk, late at night after our double date I sit. Asleep, unshakeable and determined you lie in my bed. All I can think about is the words that were spoken, that won't come alive tonight. Conversations about showering, and dancing. The dirty sex,  and the heartfelt confessions. None of which mean anything anymore. I look upon your Facebook as normal, to browse previous posts that remind me of times where you told the world you loved me, and to look upon pictures, saving the ones where you look the happiest, almost to give me a goal to strive for. This is who I want to help you become. Instead I am met with everything that screams insecurity. I get he's in your circle of friends, he's your best friend, he's your co-worker, he's your whatever. What I don't get, and maybe what you don't get, is how much it destroys me. A lump arises in my throat everytime your phone lights up, as if to say that someone, somewhere, will make you happier than I do. Is this your fault. No. It kills me none the less. Everytime my insecurity gets the better of me and I have to ask who it is. I don't know anymore. I tell you, and myself that I'll make you the happiest girl in the world. But what if I can't? What if you realize that? What if you realize they can do a better job that I can? What if? My life seems to filled with regrets and what ifs. Time and time again, I have proven that I am not enough for anyone. I've told you my that it's my darkest fear. You tell me I am, but what if you're lieing to yourself. What if I was right all along? I pray I'm not. There would be no better time, to be proven wrong. Maybe that's why I'll do anything to make you happy. Whether it be take you tanning, bringing you coffee after work, cleaning your car, driving your friends around. I wouldn't call myself a jealous person. I just realize, I'm not everything you think I am. And that scares me. I don't have a problem with these people. What I have a problem with, is them being along for the ride. The ride in which, they'll be there to pick up the pieces, when you realize that I am not good enough. And instead of me, I'm afraid you'll find them.

I like to speak in references and lyrics. Not because I can't think for myself. But because someone better, said it better than I ever could. Maybe it's also because it allows me to be exposed, while still protecting myself. If someone calls me out on it, I can claim its just a song, just a poem, just a sentence. I don't ever have to say that this person, spoke exactly how I feel. I don't have to be that open. And yet all along, that's all I crave. I want to be able to show you me. I want it to be ok. I want you to hug me as tight as you can. Tell me you love me, and that you're not going anywhere. And yet that still hasn't come when needed. I need to believe it. I need to be forced to believe it. I need to look you in the eyes when you say it, no matter how hard I fight it.

How much does love give? How much does it sacrifice? Everything you like, and love, I am willing to do. I've compromised myself in ways I would have never thought imaginable. I've risked everything and put all my beliefs aside. Is it wrong to ask the same? Is love fair? The minute I ask the same of you, is it no longer love? Is that selfish? To want you, to like the same things I like. Or, just because I'm willing to like anything you like, does not mean it will be reciprocated. Does love bend, until the point it breaks? Or does it continue to bend every which way in order to balance out?

These shots of Malibu chased by Canadian and Dashboard Confessional can't help to hinder my thoughts. Thoughts that I have given hundreds of hours to, and yet now am only coming up blank. Maybe the darkness inside, has silenced my honest self. Watching you read my other posts, only brings tears to my eyes, but I realize now is not the time. I keep myself together, because it's not what we need. I can't dwell on this shit, for thats all this darkness is. Shit. One day I'll beat it. Whether it be with you, through therapy, drugs, booze, or suicide. I won't let it win. I can't. I don't deserve anything, but I deserve more than that.

So this is where it's left. The unknown, once again. I pray you don't read this. I won't bring it up, but I won't hide it from you. Rereading this, all this speaks of is insecurity and lack of self worth. But that's not who I am. It's just a small part. A part that has the upper hand. So ride with me on this journey. Take my hand, and let's show this mother fucker who's boss. Let that unforgetable laugh, matched with your goofy smile show that my love is more than this. That I can be loved, and that you choose me. Let the silence of the lyrics that scream love reign down and tell everyone that I am what you choose. Lets get tattoos, and lets go to Nordic Spa. Buy me a subscription to beer of the month, while I get you a subscription to your favourite magazine. Let's spend our mornings and evenings on a dock or in a canoe, with a rod in one hand, and beer in the other, sitting side by side in deep converations or comfortable silence. Continue being the girl of my dreams. I am working on the being the guy of yours. I just hope one day, you'll take my hand, and show me off to the world, to your world, as the best thing that's ever happened to you. Whether it be tomorrow, the next, our wedding, our first child, our first grandchild, or death. I hope you're proud of me. And proud to be with me. Respect is everything, but no one has ever been proud of me before...

Whats in a name?

These words, like most honest words, will too be written next to midnight. I've never been a good writer, quite frankily, I've never really been good at anything. For years I wrote in books. About the chaos and destruction within. Words that were never supposed to fall upon anyones eyes. Words, that were a literal translation of my inner self. I've always liked writing in books. It takes time, thought, and dedication. You can tell tone, and emotion in written words. I've never really liked technology. For all the good its done, with science and the advancement of the human race, what did it cost? There's no emotion in typed words. There's no words that are written darker than others, because its author felt its anger, and expressed it with out conscious knowledge. Nobody will read this, and say "This word, he pressed the keys harder than the rest." Maybe nobody will read this regardless. Look at cellphones. One device, has the possibility to create and ruin friendships, relationships and lives all at the same time. Sometimes I wish I could give up mine, but I know I'll be the only one. During marriage, will you give up yours?

I've also never liked country music. I don't know why. Maybe because all the songs I like, are about love and soulmates. My favourite book starts with "I've never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I say a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes. He never opened his eyes. After that I liked jazz music. Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way." Maybe thats what I needed. I now love country music. It's the little moments, cramped in a truck with three other people belting out the lyrics to their favourite songs. It's the feeling joyous, watching the love of your life, experience pure joy, singing her heart out off tune. Mixed with the sorrow, of not being able to join in, of feeling left out. Its the lyrics she posts of her favourite songs that say what her words never will. The subtle message of love, for all the world to see, while knowing she's talking about you. It's the debate, of whether "our" song will be God Gave Me You and Are You Going To Kiss Me Or Not. Yes, the little moments are what make me the happiest. The cross eyed look, thats goofy yet loveable. The way you smile after you catch me staring at you. Dancing in the kitchen, driving you to work, making sure you always have smokes, and the I could never forget the rambling jumble of words that leave your mouth when you first wake up. Whether it be kicking me out of my own bed, yelling at my dog for eating your hamburger, wanting processed cheese, or almost forcing me to get you Tim Hortons oatmeal. These moments, I wouldn't trade for the world.

Enough of things I don't like, for now. Onto things I do like. You. Yes you. You know who you are. I just don't like you, I love you. I've told you a hundred times, and I'll tell you a hundred more. I love you. It worries me, we talk through codes, afraid to speak this words to each others face. We write on paper pads, blogs, through beer, and through the silence. One day, I hope we will say this to one another. Without fear. Fear of rejection, and fear of judgement. I long for that day, deep within my soul. I just pray I am not numb by then. We read a post together, and both agree how terrible it is, to have one member in a relationship continue on while not feeling anything. I am not there. Not even close. But it scares me how that has the possibility of changing. We're both broken people. We know what it's like to be broken by ourselves, but maybe what we need is to be broken together. You promised you wouldn't leave, and you haven't. But that doesn't mean I am not scared you will. I showed you something, something I've only shown to a few. Those few, are no more. Forever changed, scarred, indifferent. I am worried you'll become the same. I worry, because I feel responsible for you. I feel instead of showing you who I am and having you accept me, I just brought you down to my level. As much as I never want to hide anything from you, and I never will - I wish I waited to show you this. Until you were ready. Until you asked for it. Until you asked for me. You blame yourself and take responsibility for me "never being happy" and for not being able to change me. But you don't take responsibility for the good. For the times, that I have truely been happy. Truely felt loved. Truely felt needed. Truely felt wanted. I have never felt these, and didn't believe they exsisted. Not until you showed me. And now it feels we're caught in a tailspin. Of beautiful mornings, and destructive nights. Maybe this is why I have a problem with the drinking. We have all these conversations late at night. When I believe you're most honest. But I never remind myself your drunk. They never work out in my favour. It just becomes a broken mess. Of tears, anger and self loathing. I am never going to leave, but I feel like I am pushing you in that direction. One night in anger, you said I was self-destructive and maybe you're right. I'm fighting it, but it feels like I am losing. My insecurity is all I know. The worthlessness, the depression, the hate, the brokenness. You're teaching me how to get past this. But will it be too late? Please hold on. Don't give up. Don't leave. I need you. You claim you need me more, but I doubt that. You never give yourself credit. You're beautiful. Ever Beautiful. I mean that. I just wish you could see you're own potential. I want this, and I want you. I'm not willing to give up. Not now, not ever. 'Till death do us part, is not just a wedding vow. It's my vow. My vow that I make to you.

As for the name. Harvey Dent. Two-face. Batmans arch nemesis. The problem with two face, is that he was not a good man who was transformed into evil. He was always evil. He just needed a step in the right direction. He needed to be pushed. Somedays I feel like that. That I have always been evil. And just needed a solid push. Others, I am gothams DA and am fighting justice any chance I get. Who wins today, is just a matter of how hard somebody pushes.

So I end this here. For now. Rambling and ranting, with no clue as to context or tone. These words, are honest words. I'll leave this here. You're Ever Beautiful. I vow to live everyday as Vodka Cranberry. To be everything you've ever wanted and desired. Yes,  there are many other things that will do, that will be good. But nothing, will be as satisfying, as getting a Vodka Cranberry. That's what I need to be. I need to be, everything you have ever wanted. Everything you have ever needed. Will you be mine? I love you.