Day 228/366

Somewhere, it makes me glad that I know you. And that you were born.

It's a sense of comfort knowing you like the music you do. You're not always there when you're not needed, which is a pity. I never asked you to make yourself scarce. So don't.

You smell nice. Most of the times. And you're such a good photographer. And you have a lazy but awesome dog.

I want to be on a terrace with you right now. Or having a nice conversation. Many of them with you have been nice. Especially our first. But you probably don't remember it.

I want to one day sing in front of you. I'm not sure what the song will be and what response I will want though.

I remember little things you mention. But I'm not a creep. (I think.)

I really like that you like Into The Wild and know the entire OST. Eddie Vedder at his finest. By the way, Long Nights is much better than Guaranteed. Tell me your stance on Society though. And hear the score.

Let's watch the Pearl Jam Twenty documentary together. Or the Floyd one. Or Led Zeppeling: The Song Remains The Same. Yes, I took the film from you and still have not seen it. Nor have I seen Paan Singh Tomar. I'll understand if we can't talk anymore.

Give me back my jacket.

Also, remember chocolate martini?

Get back, you.