Shared by Imperfectant.
I don’t get you at all, but I don’t care and I like it.
I don’t get why you would tell me you never loved me and it was all lust and loneliness, then, unbeknownst to me, spend the following month lamenting me and writing the most beautiful descriptions of the feelings we shared.
I don’t get why you decided to go all out with your feelings afterwards, yet ask for things to stay just “friendly” between us.
I don’t get why you wouldn’t want to tell me you were going back to military service for a couple of weeks, I find out by chance and tell you to be safe, and you act so cold as if you don’t care.
I don’t really get why you would tell me you won’t have a conversation with me till my birthday, and when I come to you falling apart asking for you to fix me, you do.
And I particularly don’t get why the very night before you leave, you text me at 12:45 saying you love me.
It didn’t matter because I love you too much to care, and the best conversation we ever had followed…
We are hooked on each other, just like alcoholics who relapse at the sight and smell of their liquor of preference. The pleasure and contentment we get from confessing our persistent feelings is unmatched. We’re just standing there, staring at each other from a distance, waiting for the right moment to free fall. And oh how delicious are these moments when you throw caution to the wind and just say it.
I love how you explode with sweetness when you can no longer contain the words, how you get so adorkable and laugh when I say something funny. I love the sweet dimple on your cheek that made me melt for you and continues to do so, and how your eyes get squinty when you’re smiling wide…makes me want to smile as well. I love how willing you are to spend hours listening to my troubles and comforting me, and how wise you sound when you’re giving me professional advice, asking me about my passions and encouraging me to be better at what I’m doing.
I love the look you have on your face when you listen to me talk excitedly about something, it’s one of passion and admiration, but also similar to a father seeing his little girl speak of her triumphs at soccer practice. I honestly couldn’t find a better analogy!
You make me proud of who I am and whom I chose to love. And although I would love to have you someday, the short instances of deep pure love we share will continue to revive and refresh me. I’ll keep quenching my passion with the small amounts of happiness we get to experience every now and then. And I’ll just be thankful we crossed paths that November morning 🙂
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