If I was a first sensations person, I wouldn't have given you the opportunity of knowing me better. And what a mistake would it be, because you're the first one.
I want to write this to you, directly to your heart, because I forgot to do it when we were saying goodbye for the last time:
My baby, my pollo,
I swear to God, every time I made you laugh, i just know I can live longer.
I find myself repeating in mind the same sentence: 'If we met earlier...', you would acknowledge more of me, my favorite flavors, my closest friends from Spain, my favourite song, my favourite genre of films... And of course, I would have acknowledged the same from you. We would have shared more memories, and now we could have been closer. But I don't complain about how things have happened.
I sometimes get mad at you, because you're the opposite of expresive, and I get insecure about your feelings for me, but I know too well you're making up the tough person type with an armor. It's, also, a relief that your friends send me hints updating your ''sentimental state'', of course covered by jokes.
