My beautiful creature,
The photo. I shouldn't have done that, right? I shouldn't give into this so much. Am I not making it worse?
I am. I truly am.
It's enough pretending that everything is ok. I shouldn't torture you like that. Shouldn't flaunt myself around. But it's not like I'm trying, at all. I somehow feel conscious and a bit guilty for having a body. I want to sink in into big hoodies, pants and potato sacks and maybe that way make it all better and easier.
However, you existing in my vicinity doesn't make it easier for me. Not at fucking all. Because I realised that the wind (the fucking wind, which I check every day) decides to stuff my nostrils with your smell every time we're out. It feels so weird standing there, a step away from you, and not being able to touch you. To take your hand. To caress your face. I caught myself several times almost in the middle of motion to do that and then had to steer away. It's strange, painful that I can't just hug you.
I don't like it. Not one fucking bit.
I thought about inviting you for coffee tomorrow, but I didn't. I don't want to inconvenience you. To ask for too much too soon. It just feels like this week we hadn't had a moment for ourselves, and we were just... Mad. Not like we used to be, not driving each other crazy, but just trying to handle life, work, maintain ourselves and a semblance of any sort of purpose of life. And it was... It is hard.
I think it's because we work where we work. We do what we do. We are how we are, and, above all, we care. We feel.
And everything around us is just... Pushing us down.
But you know my policy on this.
Not today, fucker. Not today. I'm not giving up. They - that - does not get to win. I'll force it down, even if it destroys me, just out of spite. Just to prove a point.
I will not let you give into that grim either.
We're here for each other. And we... We have dreams now. Plans.
And we need to create them into real things. Into things that take us places, make us smile, bring us and others joy. Why do I think you're jumping into all this bone/card thing not just because of me, but because you also wanted that at some point?
Is that something you want now?
And I want you to think about this. Really think, and answer honestly. If not to me, then to yourself.
It's nice. This. Excruciating, but nice.
Believe it or not, when you asked me who you are to me, and I said 'sunshine'... That was true. Not a curveball. True. I think we're... Like sunflowers. When the sun isn't shining, we turn to each other.
I could also ask what I am to you. But I won't. I avoid these questions, because we have answers for them, but at the same time we don't. Why live on the brink of torture, my dear?
I'll take what I can get.
And then
hopefully
I'll kiss you.