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These are the records of certain occurrences and musings in my life. It is probably not of much importance to you, unless you enjoy being a sleuth or have some vague interest in listening to me prattle about my flavour-of-the-month.
you
Thinking about you makes my chest go all tight inside
There's a deep feeling of longing there; it's hard to be so far away from you
It's difficult... having just a taste of what it's like to be in your arms, before you're gone. The raw emotion that you displayed, that you brought out of me, was ... euphoric.
I spend all day thinking about you, wishing to be home just so I could talk with you, then realizing I actually have nothing of value to say. So I wait and hope you'll approach me, and you usually don't disappoint me. That makes me happy.
Although you're so absurdly difficult to carry on a conversation with. I don't think it's that you have nothing to say... it's that you won't open up to me. Why? Why won't you talk with me about the same things you talk about with others? Are you afraid of saying the wrong thing? (Despite this we still end up talking for hours at a time, although said hours feel like nothing.)
Don't get me wrong, I like a touch of enigma. I don't like cheap, and eager men. You were never like that, and you never will be. You're a refreshing breath of wonderful air in a sea of worthlessness. You never spent your time chasing my skirts, and you never tried to pretend to be something you weren't, even though you were secretly interested. I love that about you. I just... like you.
You're funny, you're talented, you somehow pull off being a complete (cute) dork and cool at the same time, and you just resonate with my sensibilities somehow.
I really, really just want to be able to hug you right now, but I can't. I knew this is how it would be, but I never knew how intensely it would strike me. Will it only get worse with each time you depart? Some small part of me actually hopes it does. That the flame keeps on growing, instead of flickering and dying. The fact that I'm writing out something like this makes me inclined to believe it could last a good while, though...
I'm not going to say forever, because I'm old enough to understand how to be realistic now. Forever isn't a term you use at this point in the relationship. Even love isn't. Do I love you? Not yet, I think... although those sorts of feelings have a foundation to build on, and that's the most important thing of all.
I hope you glean as much pleasure from my company as I do yours. It's hard to tell with you... as closed off as you are. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of that, though... that you really like me. Maybe even as much as I like you. That makes me smile. You have this... odd affect on me. Just the concept of applying your affection to me is enough to make me blush and hide my face, such a girlish reaction, but as much as I pretend is not the case I enjoy it. I really enjoy how you tease me, I mean, uhm... not in a sexual sense, although.....

Yep, zoned out for about five seconds there.

I was in a really bad mood before I started writing this, but now I feel as though all my worries have been wiped away. Goddammit, you are a soothing balm for the soul or some s**t... you'd probably get a kick out of that.

Maybe this whole thing is really creepy. Or romantic. I honestly can't tell. For better or for worse, I'll leave it up. Because I really do want to share this sort of thing with the whole world. That's how I feel about it, and how I feel about you. I adore you so much.





 
 
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