Doubt and Desire

Why do I like him so damn fucking much? He is like, amazing and wonderful and perfectly imperfect and I want nothing more for him to hold me in his arms while I cozy up with a good book. And when I’m feeling more than comfortable with him, I want him to pull me by the hand, knock me onto the bed and kiss every inch of my bare flesh. And I know exactly the moves he would make. I know what he would want me to do as well. There are many, many things we could do to create pure bliss. I know I could spend hours just talking about music or sitting without talking and listening to it. Or just be dancing across the floor to a song that most would not dance to. I imagine us doing a million and one things together, but then I think: “what if he doesn’t think this way about me? What if he doesn’t think about me as much as I think about him? What if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore? What if it’s all drunken views and stupid needs that I am foolish enough to provide with no expectations of any other feeling out of him than drunken lust?” There the depression begins. I only imagine horrible things after the good thoughts have played out so long. Sometimes I wonder how I can do the things I do with him. But his words make the feeling of confusion and wrong doing disappear because, for once, I feel desired. For once, I feel like I have something to live for because someone wants me to live. Who would have thought? Me! The girl who has no positive thoughts about herself, but can see all goodness in everyone else, have someone thinking she was worth fighting for. As I have said, these thoughts don’t last. I cannot see me as anything worth going after. Maybe one day I will see that, if he makes the big move. The huge move that I do not see him making because I only see him making a million other women happy instead of an obese and unappealing blob as myself. However this blob will stay up until three in the morning in hopes of getting a word with him, making me feel good about me for at least two days. But many nights there are times where he will not be on, and I’ve wasted oh so many worthy hours of sleep over this cruel, rude, mean, horrid, smart, amazing, wonderful, and perfectly imperfect man to say just a few words to me.