Been Awhile.

I've been going through my previous journal entries, smiling. The spiteful type, really. The mocking type. I'm not sure I'll ever be enough for myself - if there is a point in time where I'll settle and say, 'and that's all there is to it.' I hope I never reach that place - you're as good as dead the minute you stop questioning yourself, and, of course, all the other shit. I talk about this boy I love the most. I bet you were thinking I'd be in past tense by now, with the distasteful way I'd been going over those swooning and heart-breaking, heart-struck, heart-attack little fucks of diary entries. I could call them blog posts but let's just level and call it a diary. Off-topic. I still am in love. Not as much as I could be - I've taken the liberty of intentionally curbing it, for the sake of my sanity. It's a pretty interesting turn of events, although, rather uneventful, not that I'm complaining. I think I'm calm with this. However, much longer of it, I'm sure I'll become complacent. His father likes me. I don't know how that makes me feel. It makes me laugh. Smile. Roll my eyes a little bit. He'd told this boy, his son, that he should date me. I wanted to double over laughing. I think I've reached the point of hopelessness in that regard. Maybe it'll happen, maybe it won't but I don't think it matters anymore.

But, more on that later, because I'm enjoying the flattering thoughts his father gave to me. Well, essentially, not much was said, but what was said was, when his son was explaining his relationship with me and everything that we'd been through, he said, and I fucking quote because I wanted to collapse in that moment and praise Jesus, "How did you manage to meet someone as amazing as that?" His dad is aware. His dad is AWARE and I appreciate the fuck out of that. Teach your son. /Teach him./ Ahem. But, that lifted my spirits. But, moving on. I'm comfortable, I'd suppose. There aren't days when I don't want more, when I'd like to feel less like a row of dolls on a shelf, but how exactly does the title 'boyfriend' achieve that? What does 'boyfriend' give me? In his decision to become so, does he create a contract in his mind to always love me? Does he no longer find other people more appealling... attractive? Does something magical happen? No. It doesn't. The reasons I'd wanted that title for him before were to ensure he'd love me, for good. It's silly.

Even married couples, 'husband & wife' don't give a fuck about each other - what's any other type of relationship? I do still want it. Unfortunately, along with this new skin, I've become more emotional, applying more and more subjective definitions to words and phrases. I want to be able to call him my boyfriend and I want him to call me his. It makes me feel warm, to think about it. Fuck, I feel warm when he calls me 'hun,' or 'darling,' or 'sweetie,' HOLY SHIT, oh my god, you know, my phone deleted a message once where he called me all three, I will never forgive this piece of shit. /Fuck you, cellular phone./

I left for a moment while writing this because he happened to call me for a little bit. He called me 'cutie,' oh my fucking God. Jesus fucking Christ. He woke me up when he called me this morning and told me the voice I have when I wake up was really cute, oh my God, I'm dying. He's so beautiful, my goodness. And I'm not saying 'I'm dying' because when he says cute stuff like that, it makes me wish we were together, but... He loves me. I believe him, now, and it makes me feel so warm and just alive when he says 'I love you.' I don't really show it but it really makes me happy.

About... three weeks ago, we were sitting around, just chilling, shooting the shit, you know? And it kind of gets legit for awhile, he starts telling me secrets. He goes on and on and I'm just like, 'yeah, really? alright.' Then he goes, 'It doesn't bother you?' I smile, shake my head. He continues, 'You know why it doesn't bother you? Because you love me.' And I'm just like 'no shit,' and then he's like, 'Guess what?' Pause, guys. Pause. Then he's like, 'I love you.' Now, this isn't that fucking climatic, right? I already knew that, I believed, shit was fucking established. However, this is what I did: I covered my mouth, looked away, and, holy fuck I was blushing like mad. I got up and walked into the hallway and proceeded to raise myself up and down on my toes and dudes, I'm being legit: I kind of squealed. After that, I tried to walk back in with dignity, but, no such luck, I collapsed onto the floor laughing at myself. I didn't feel like he gave me the world, I felt like he brought me to another world.

I am disgusting but THIS IS THAT SHIT. This is why I can never give up. There is no heaven, no hell, no earth, when I'm with him, it's me, him, and his world, that he's let me be apart of.