If you could hide, would you crawl away with me?

The longer I sit here denying the fact that I don't have that much homework, if any, and that updating my blog is MUCH more effective than doing my schoolwork, the more romantic I feel. Ughmsss...romantic. That word is used to much, I know. It gets annoying after a while, and starts sounds a bit cheesy. I guess I'll say lovesick...Or even whimsical. Iunnooo...I keep finding that during my loud eighth period French class, I'm pouring over a piece of notebook paper, like, worshiping it, quickly and quietly scrawling out nonsensical lines. Are they lyrics? Not really sure. Am I writing poems? Maybe. It's mawkish.
Is my pen trying to tell me something? I would assume that it knows better of me, considering that I can be quite passive to myself.
Some syrupy thoughts: Could I steal you away? Would you hold me? We could sleep under trees? I'd have no home, for we'd live on buses...On the roof of my house we'd have a house for ourselves, you and me...Is sunlight a just for your face? Are photographs worthy? Why am I so tired? Why can't I stop laughing? I love you...What? Wait, no. Could time freeze...? NO. A long conversation in a strawberry feild, with you? Some music for me? No. We could share popcorn. No. I wonder if you like buses. I wonder if you like dark. I wonder if you like reading. Could we laugh? Nooooo. Am I crazy? Yes. But I love you...Do I love you? No. I'd love to crawl into a little hole, where we could eat chocolate and drink soup. Catching fireflies? NO. Noo, no, no. No. Stop mind. Stop head. You are not lovesick over anything. You're just silly. Silly. Silly-silly.
Silly. :P