I'll be

your crying shoulder.

I'll be love suicide.

I'll be better when I'm older.

I'll be the greatest fan of your life.

I know I confuse you, Glenn. You can't keep up with my sudden mood swings. You don't understand how we could be laughing and playing one minute, and then suddenly I sink into the corner and tune myself out. You don't know why sometimes I can't look you in the eye, or why sometimes I ask why you don't love me. You think my jealous fits are funny, and you honestly believe I have no reason to be afraid. You're constantly asking "what's wrong?" but when I tell you, you get mad. But when I don't tell you, you stop talking to me. I don't know which is worse.

I wish I could explain to you why I do those things, but I can't even explain to myself. I just think too much. Or maybe I love you too much.

Today: "I love you more than anything in the world. I don't think you realize how much that really is."