No, too enthusiastic. I backspace the exclamation mark and replace it with a full stop.
Too formal. I take out the full stop.
I’ve gone through all your media. I know what you look like, what your friends look like, and the places you were at last summer.
I know your last name. I know who your boyfriend is, from all the tweets you forgot to delete about him. I know how badly he hurt you. I hate him already. I will never hurt you, I promise myself.
I’ve already written a poem about you. It’s silly, I know. In fact, that’s the title. I see you tweeted twenty minutes ago. I’m starting to wonder if you’ll ever reply. You don’t have to. I won’t hate you for it or send expletives your way. It’s just…I’m in love with you.
You’re a feminist? Same! I really appreciate how vocal you are on certain topics. You’re smart you know? I see the articles you save to read. Do you actually read them or are you like me who just saves and forgets to read? Anyway, I think you’re beautiful. I can feel your empathy in your tweets, and the way you get frustrated about certain things. You love Ghana so much, do you know? Of course you do, changing this country is one of your passions. I’m so impressed by you.
Ah, you’re a poet? You’re making this really hard for me. I hope you’re not offended that I saw a tweet with the link to your blog from 2014. It seems a little private. You haven’t updated it in three years, but you really should. There’s good stuff on there. It looks like this was your outlet for a lot of emotional turmoil. Do you have another outlet? Is that why you don’t, you know, update the blog anymore? Can I be your outlet? I want to be your outlet.
You’ve tweeted regularly over the past hour now. Okay, mostly retweets. Is it safe to say you’re using your phone? Why haven’t you replied me? Are you waiting till you actually have something to say before you reply? I do that sometimes. People don’t get it. Are you going to reply at all? Or has time not moved that much? Let me check.
I didn’t press send.