I'm sorry for ignoring you. You have every reason to be angry. I have kept you locked up in a backpack for days and you have not only been patient, but you've not moved an inch. You're so loyal.
I think I've figured out why I've been so distant lately: I'm intimidated by you. You are so smart and good at everything you do, and it makes me so nervous when I'm around you. I get all flushed and jittery, and I know you can tell. It's super embarrassing. You must think I'm such a boob.
The thing is, I don't even know why you want to hang out with me. I don't even like the same things you like. I can't tell you the year that the Ottoman Empire fell. I don't know what a sonata is, exactly. I'm not really as refined as you are. My idea of a good time is dressing up like a guy and going to pick up my husband at the airport.
I don't know, homework. I just kinda feel like we don't really click very well. It's not your fault. If anything, it's mine.
No, I'm not saying that I won't hang out with you. I'm totally going to. As a matter of fact, we can hang a bit tonight.
But can you just try to be a little less....dorky? Like, maybe you could pop your collar or something.