me: i can still beat you in my lexus ok
huthayfa: this shit is slow man but its looks sick
me: well it's only 4 cyl what do you expect? i ate one a few months ago on the fwy. is it auto or man?
huthayfa: where? its manual
me: on the 22
huthayfa: it was probably me HAHA jk :)
me: LOL!! leave me alone i'm trying to study fuck LOL
huthayfa: wanna go on the 405 tonight near beach? 1 AM be there i'll beat you out 4 cyclinder style. 100$ pot
me: okay sandman your 4 against my 8 leggo
huthayfa: 8!? wtf i thought the sc is 6 nevermind HAHA
me: this nigguh LOL gimme my $ !
made an invite on FB for K1 SPEED on my birthday and this girl, whom I don’t especially like, went and invited herself.
… Grl; wtf. no.
whenever people ask me about my girlfriend, I always get this small smile on my face, sigh, drop what I’m doin’, and first start off by saying: “She’s amazing.”
My co-workers and friends always smile back, laugh, and ask things like: “How amazing? What do you guys do together? How do you guys see maintain a long distance relationship? Do you guys talk to each other every night?”
Yes. We do all we can together. We love each other; distance doesn’t mean anything, and yes. We talk all the time.
I love talking about Tara; I love talking about how I want to make sure that I’ll be everything she’ll ever need, that I’m always keeping myself up to parr, that I’m always trying to impress her, that I’m always treating our relationship like how I first found out I loved her, that I won’t ever take her for granted, that I’ll never get too comfortable and think that I won’t have to do special things for her, holidays or not, because she deserves it— because if I don’t treat her with love, like she’s the one person in my life that’s special and real, than someone else will. I won’t ever give anyone that chance. I always talk about how it’s just so real with her; I always tell my friends and co-workers how I know I love her, more than anyone.
They always ask: “How do you know?”
Because— she’s more a friend to me, than my actual friends growing up were. She’s more family to me, than my actual family ever was, and she’s more a lover to me than all my past boyfriends and girlfriends ever were. She takes me places, up into the sky, past the moon, around the galaxy! She’s not my reason why or how— that’s not enough to explain her. She’s the parts of me that I forget ever existed; she gave me things no one ever could, and I never asked for much. Sometimes— I just needed to know people don’t come and go so easily, that I’m not who I am so people can take advantage of me, that I’m not hard working because I’m trying to bring about self benefit, but because I’m trying to do things that people I once believed in, once looked up to, and once loved before death took them away, that they can’t do anymore.
“That’s probably the most humble, and loving thing I’ve ever heard.” They’d say.
I’d just smile at them and laugh ‘cause I’d say in the end: “With her— I can’t go nowhere but up, y’know? That’s it.”
