Jenn V

“Will you finally sign my yearbook now?” he asks when we quiet down. “I have to have a Rowan Roth autograph for when you get famous.”
― Rachel Lynn Solomon, Today Tonight Tomorrow

“Artoo,
I'm switching back to regular handwriting. Calligraphy is hard, and I didn't bring my good pens. Or I need more practice.
Right now you're sitting across from me, probably writing HAGS 30 times in a row. I know a little bit of a lot of languages, but even so, I struggle to put this into words. Okay. I'm just going to do it.
First of all, I need you to know I'm not putting this out there with any hope of reciprocation. This is something I have to get off my chest (cliché, sorry) before we go our separate ways (cliché). It's the last day of school, and therefore my last chance.
"Crush" is too weak a word to describe how I feel. It doesn't do you justice, but maybe it works for me. I am the one who is crushed. I'm crushed that we have only ever regarded each other as enemies. I'm crushed when the day ends and I haven't said anything to you that isn't coated in five layers of sarcasm. I'm crushed, concluding this year without having known that you like melancholy music or eat cream cheese straight from the tub in the middle of the night or play with your bangs when you're nervous, as though you're worried they look bad. (They never do.)
You're ambitious, clever, interesting, and beautiful. I put "beautiful" last because for some reason, I have a feeling you'd roll your eyes if I wrote it first. But you are. You're beautiful and adorable and so fucking charming. And you have this energy that radiates off you, a shimmering optimism I wish I could borrow for myself sometimes.
You're looking at me like you can't believe I'm not done yet, so let me wrap this up before I turn it into a five-paragraph essay. But if this were an essay, here's the thesis statement:
I'm in love with you, Rowan Roth.
Please don't make too much fun of me at graduation?
Yours,
Neil P. McNair”
― Rachel Lynn Solomon, Today Tonight Tomorrow

“But sometimes I get this strange feeling, an ache not for something I miss, but for something I've never known" -Rowan”
― Rachel Lynn Solomon, Today Tonight Tomorrow

“I tug his hoodie closer. We’re not soaking wet anymore, just a little damp. Now that we’re outside again, I’m convinced the smell of his hoodie had to be the rain. I’m not still thinking about it, but if I were, its just...petrichor.”
― Rachel Lynn Solomon, Today Tonight Tomorrow