entirely non-cryptic

To, erm, the girl: I think I miss you, because you were horribly brilliant and brave and made me so completely mad at you. And mad for you too, of course. I hope you don't mind too much that a tiny bit of your existence is inside my mind. But, really, you set the benchmark way too high. Until I find someone I can yield to not only mentally but also practically this time, until I manage to scrape together enough affection for someone else, you shall remain my muse, inciting my every word. (: HUGE (platonic) LOVE, really.

Because words will be words will be words. There is little point in making other people want to commit suicide. I still wish I had green fingers, however.