I often wondered why I kept telling myself that it didn't matter, that it never would matter as much as I wanted it to. I guess I allowed myself to say these things because, in my heart of hearts, I knew that it did matter, probably more than I would've allowed it to.
But it was terrible…delicious and terrible being near him. It's…thrilling, and I can't stop. I tell myself it's bad to be near him, that it would be better if I stayed away. Don't deepen this wound!
But how can I not?!
I always come out saying when I picture that…face of his. That face…that face, that darned face! That…dreadfully glorious face…!
I need to feel it, to touch it, to smell the Sea upon it, to have my tears merge with the scent of it all, with everything that's beautiful and pure. And I can't stop. It's like poison, and I would gladly gulp it down in the breadth of a second.
I need to be able to lie down in the dark, to be alone with my thoughts, to cling to the want that I hold so dear that it's practically welded into me, clinging like a starfish. He can't escape from my mind.
Him, him, him, him, all the time. I love it; I dread it. I want to hold the moments that I think about him in my arms, to caress them and kiss them and tell the moments how wonderful they make me feel, that they make me look foreword to every day, that they make me wonder what I'm going to do to vent my feelings for that dratted…person. That person
I hope it never ends, not even if the terrible feeling accompanies it. Such a feeling deserves to live until the end of time, and longer. It's sweet, it's delicious, and I can't stop it.