I wonder what an Australian tounge feels like

He is way cute. I'm talking to him about the most random stuff, and he acts as if I'm saying something of great importance. He treats me well, and hasn't once done anything incredibly stupid. I really hope to go see him sometime, so that I might just once get to hug him, get to kiss him, get to hold him in my arms and tell him that I love him. I'm not sure why he's such a nice person to me, but whatever the reason is, it works. I really wish I could see him, but of course I would probably screw that up... I can't screw up in school, or else getting to AU will be impossible. He is fucking delicious... I want him to hurry up and get close to me so I can run my hands through his hair, plant a kiss on his lips, soft and sweet, and breath in the spicy scent of his cologne. I want to take him places, like shopping and stuff, and I want him to wrap me in his embrace. I want him to poke me in the side playfully, and I want to giggle like the little girl I so badly want to be. I yearn for his innocence, for his delicious smile, for his voice to reach my ears undistorted by the webcam, for he and I to not be separated by 8,000 miles of ocean and continent. It's very much like a love story that sucks, and I just hope that I don't end up killing myself at the end.

So... he calls me psycho. I don't know whether to be offended or happy. He's serious today, and I asked him what was wrong. He was suprised that I could tell how he felt. I'm starting to think that he is much less mature than myself... and it kills me. I really and truly love this one, and I'm afraid I've been brozoned. I want to cry, I want to scream, to just make him se how much I care about him, but he will never see. I don't have the ability to show it to him. I don't think I ever will.