March 16, 2011

I wish I could tell him what I really think. He wouldn’t think I was so ditzy and giggly, and he’d realize why I “melt like butter” when he smiles. You know how when you think of something too much, expectations can never live up to reality? I feel like somehow, he always manages to make it even better than imagined. It just reminds me that he’s different from everyone else. It feels so much better. Superior. Improved. Everything with him is so fluid. Nothing ever feels forced. Comfortable. Relaxed. Content. And hooking up with him, doesn’t feel like hooking up. It doesn’t feel like making out with some disgusting, horny mess. Every kiss, every touch, is sweet. Calculated. Special. Connection isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind. There have really been only two people in my life who I’ve really, genuinely liked, and he’s one of them. Sometimes I even doubt the first one, because looking back it feels like more of a depressed, abusive relationship in which I convinced myself that I was madly in love. Something about being with him feels so much different. Enhanced. Heightened. Infatuation isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind. If I told him any of this, he’d run for the hills. That’s why I never would, and can only think it to myself and pray that he sticks around a while longer. I just wish he’d realize that I could make him so happy if he let me. I’m different too. Being together could be the most perfect thing that ever happened to either of us. Opportunity isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind.