Bridget: Wait a minute… nice boys don’t kiss like that. Mark...
Pull me down hard and drown me in love...
I think my damn hormones are making me nuts. Honestly, can’t they just let me think about something else entirely instead of yelling into my thought stream “probably almost another week til you get laid!” It’s enough to make a girl drink. Of course, that would probably just exacerbate the issue. *sigh* Fucking busy weekend, among other things.
Lock up your heart but keep the key within reach
Holy shit. It’s happening, isn’t it?
I shake and I shiver just to feel you breathe
Holy shit. I didn’t think that would happen. Now i’m really really noodly.
I’m thinking not tonight. Nope nope, maybe don’t want to jump any guns. I can’t even decide what shoes to wear.
I’m sitting here looking at a teeny tiny bottle of Peruvian oil wondering should I or shouldn’t I. Not because I totally believe it will work, but because it’s so early and I fear some strange backwards effect.
All I know is I love being with you...
It’s amazing that, when I relax and quit fighting something, I realized I was only fighting it because I was afraid of how content and happy I might become. I kept waiting for me to be ready, when really what I needed was to let it wiggle it’s way in and take over without my consent. go figure. I don’t know where it’ll end up yet, but I know where it puts me right now, and...
Don’t you hate that? Uncomfortable silence. Why do we feel it’s necessary to...– Pulp Fiction (via roscoe-) I just realized that I can do that with him. Heh. Mysteries never cease.
And that's a fault of mine I'm working on...
This all simultaneously feels very grown up and like the stuff bad high school poetry was written about. And I’m fucking terrified. Okay? This is not… I am not… I’m wondering how walls can fall down so quickly. And how come instead of flipping out about it, I’m standing in the center of it all yelling “fuck you walls!” and then running away all giddy....
When did we get so careful?
I have an overwhelming fear of seeming pushy or clingy because I hate that type of girl. Then again, she does always seem to know what she wants. Or thinks she wants. I’m not that way though, I’m not that way.
sothenshe: Me: How much did you like this boy? Her: How does one measure such things? Me: “Meh,” “Considerably,” “A lot,” “I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WANT TO WEAR HIS SKIN.” Her: Between three and four.