She likes me, I think she likes me...

But does she *like me* like me, like I like her?

So I'm wandering around the apartement singing musical-tunes, so what?
I feel pink and sparkly and a bit like one of those helium balloons with the glitter inside and pictures of My Little Pony on the outside.
I'm floating around, feet hardly touching the ground.
I know I should be reasonable and practical and blah, blah blaaaah....
Screw that, I deserve a little glitter in my life.
And she... oh gods, she makes me smile and laugh and blush and giggle and consider colouring my hair pink again.