#51314

It funny spending time with him. He is so different.

I'm slowly but surely losing my mind. I thought I had all of the pieces back together, just like I always do. Of course I miss you. I always miss you. You're a very deep, very substantial scar on my mental skin. You'll always be there. I need to accept that, and I need to move on. I thought it would be easy not having you around. I was fine for the first few months. You said you missed me, and maybe you did then, but I don't know. I can't say that I want you to focus on missing me because that's selfish. But it hurts. Nobody compares to you. Nobody has yet, and I'm starting to think nobody ever will. You tried to communicate with me for the first time in months the other night, and I was asleep. A sixteen hour time difference isn't an easy thing to deal with, you know? But naturally I replied to your message to no avail. You haven't tried to talk to me since. I missed my window of opportunity and I'm beyond upset. You're coming home tomorrow. Back to the States. Back to your friends, your life. Back to me, maybe? I don't know. The thought is paralyzing. I'm ecstatic that you're coming home. I am. But I'm terrified. I'm nervous. I'm anxious. I'm happy. I need to see you. I want to see you. I want to hug you. I want to look in your eyes. I want to hear your voice. I want to feel your touch. But I don't want to be back under your spell. The last physical contact we had was a kiss. Not a regular kiss. You've never kissed me like that before, ever. Sure we've had rushed kisses, a couple make out sessions because we were bored in your car or in my room. But you've never kissed me with feeling until that night. We spent 6 hours together, drinking coffee and talking on top of a hill overlooking town. Just talking. Being happy. Being friends. Loving each other and loving the moment. And then you held my hand and we didn't kiss. We held hands. We sat there and we looked at each other. Then we went back to the car and it felt like every time we've hooked up with no feeling. Always the same. You took me home, I got out of the car and you asked me to wait. Turn around. "I need to tell you something." And you grabbed my face, and you kissed me. I felt that kiss like I've never felt anything you've ever done before. I don't know why you did it. I don't know how you felt about it. But I think about it a lot. All the time. I knew in that moment that I loved you and you loved me. There's no other explanation. It's simple. What are you supposed to do when you begin to lose all of your pieces, and you know why, but the only thing you want to help you find them is what's tearing you apart?

Can someone tell me why I'm so psychotic?! Am I the only female out there constantly feeling like I'm going to go have this crazy psycho episode in public for no good reason except for the fact that I just can't keep so much shit bottled up for this long? I just ask WHY all day long whilst trying to keep my shit together.