Let me loose.

Show me how to be social.
Even when I already was—sometimes—I think.

Your tolerance is higher than anyone past 25, your eyes are never glossy, and your favorite thing to do is dance with someone who can dance, not someone who can’t because they’re scared.

You take four shots of the hardest liquor before introducing me to the most important people of your life.

I sip on cheap wine I bought from a mini mart around the corner. It’s not working its magic like it should be.

I ask to feel like this all the time but I don’t know how.
You seem like this all the time but I’m not so sure.