I'm afraid we've accepted that, in whatever way we do it, we love each other. Why does that make me want to puke? That we've accepted it seems to be the catch. We've accepted and are going to let it do its thing. He doesn't appear to be putting up so many road blocks to slow shit down.
This happens sometimes when I'm going to see him again after a week of not. The last time we were together is always great, the fantasy memories of it throughout the next week are great, the love, because of the distance and want, grows - and then I'm afraid it will be gone?
What if I loved it in my mind so much that it does that thing that things do and makes itself more real than is pretty and alluring.
What if we've fucked the fuck out of each other? What if we've exhausted this?
I also feel that when his skin is close to mine, I can breath again. I can let go of the breath that I didn't know I've been holding. I can relax.
Today it feels even more urgent that I be in his arms and feel his warmth. I'll have to work with him for a full 8 hours before I can touch him. Before I can relax.
Maybe that's what scares me.
My skin, my heart, wants the breath. What if it's not there?
Knowing that something exists that you no longer want to live without... chancy.
It's always been that way for me, knowing I didn't want to live without it. But, he never really gave it to me before. Now, it feels like he's surrendered to a majority of it, not all of it, but most of it. It being the idea that him and I are more.
He has given over a piece of him that I wanted which has, perhaps, lulled (or is lulling) me into a false sense of security.
Now, I'm letting myself love him, not knowing what will come of it.
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