What scares me the most is the possibility that once you finally realize we're perfect for each other, it'll be too late. I'll bet you didn't know that the thought of you being with another girl makes me cringe. I'll bet you didn't know that frankly, I desperately hope that it makes you sick to picture me with anyone other than you. It should. I've scanned the skies above me, and searched the ground beneath me (without fruition) for a cheapened version of you and it should make you sick. Your words: always without pretense - always with a subtle tone of affection hidden in between the lines like small whispers tying my head into knots. No, I don't believe in "love at first sight" and I refuse to over-exaggerate for the sake of "writing" by implying that I'm in love with you. Would it make a difference if I admitted that from the moment I laid eyes on you, I believed that I would fall in love with you one day - that you should fall in love with me?
But you're so far. So out of reach, in the fact that the nights when I shuddered underneath your fingertips or secretly smiled into your shoulder as you held me, silently making notes on how good you smell, and how I just wish this would last - they're so far away.
One of the problems I've always struggled with while writing is the issue of lacking the ego to constantly humiliate myself like this. And how I do it anyway.
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:)
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