more.

I felt like I would follow him the ends of the earth.
No really.

Now, now, now, I know what you are thinking.
cliche.
obvious.
every girl feels that

hell, every little girl feels it atleast once a month for the entirety of the highschool internment. everyone is bound to swoon, atleast on occasion, in the presence of the overwhelming "it".
every dog must have their day.

but it's not like that. not for me. even in my most lovestruck and crushdriven and heartrendered moments I tend to remain intellectually grounded. present. tactile with the reality of the details. and I question question question. examine. see the flaws, know the endings. I hear the apologies and annoyances and I wish for this different thing and that different thing. I know the score. so for me to say that if this virtual stranger had called me from his travelling salesman of a job and said "join me, here is how, here is how to find me at random outposts and passthroughs and here is where I eventually return to. here is how to have me come home to you at night" I would have done it, I would have done that stuppid stupid thing. I tell you this because it's quite the thing. it's the only thing.

and to this day I meant it. Maybe, I still mean it. Maybe he could call tomorrow and I'd do it. Even though he's not a stranger any more and I know his flaws and his flightiness and the reasons it wouldn't be a good idea and I can pinpoint the downfalls. I see that he is not half the man I imagined him to be, but he is still twice the draw of any other man out there. standing there, like a dream twice as big I've ever had, like he sprung from my skull fully formed and ready to show me that all these other things I had been ready to settle for were twice as much work to make them half of what I want. it's still there, that thing that makes the rest irrelevant. because you see, it wasn't just the swoon. the flush. it was, quite simply that, standing in his presence I felt natural. I felt normal. I felt my puzzle pieces, bent and bruised beyond recogniztion to fit continuously in the wrong grooves, slide effortlessly into a place in life I understand.

and, ofcourse, it's not really like that. because he didn't ask. and I didn't ask. and we all know that sometimes, yes, no really, sometimes love just aint enough. and I'm not a silly fool. I am not saying I missed my boat or well that was it or anything of the kind. it might have been horrible. horrendous. cruel and uncomfortable and awkard and dull. though I tend to doubt it.

but still. it matters. it matters because I understand that all those pieces of myself, the ones that I can't see clearly or know to be truly me exist for a reason. I see the raw edges there to be healed by the right hand. I see that thoughts and dreams half baked can suddenly rise before you, frosted, candles blazing. and to know that there is someone who can make me feel that, who can release me from the analysis and the akwardness of my neverending thoughts, someone who brings me back into the center of my life, someone who can make me feel, and in a way the sharpens the senses and softens my edges. well, that makes me believe. again.

in more. just. more.

see part of that whispers to me that if that can happen once, it can happen again. and I tell you this because it's quite a thing. it's the only thing.