What little I mean to you.

Your drinks, your friends, your football, your sleep, your job, your money, your new camera, your hair wax, your colleagues, your meetings, your friends and your life there.

Every single damn thing seems to mean so much more to you.

Where do I stand in this?

To think I wanted to take the leap of faith and run over to be with you.

So damn naive.

Say...

Something sweet to me before I fall asleep and awake to next week's challenges, will you?