I had this half written monologue in my brain of what I was going to say to Phil that I kept reciting over and over again, constantly editing and adjusting it. But I just couldn't get it to sound right. And I needed it to sound right. Phil's reaction to my words would mean the difference between complete ecstasy or crushing devastation.
I groaned at how pathetic I was; at what I had been reduced to. I was in deep. I wish I hadn't lied and instead had told him that I did remember kissing him. It would have the perfect opportunity. He would have asked why I did it and I would have said 'I don't know, I guess I like you' and he would have said 'oh, cool. I like you too' and then maybe we would have made out a little and uhh, it all would have been so easy.
But now I'd built it up too much,
