Being ... me ...

I'm almost sure, he has found me here.
Almost sure both of them did find me here.
They're both a bit stalker-ish. 
So, well, yes, this does explain something.
Nevertheless.
I have managed, in my best effort to be cool and collected and not pushy, to leave the impression of being too cold.
I may have said something that might be understood as if I'm not that interested anymore.
I am interested as far there is interest on the other side.
It's just me being me.
Over-trying to hush my enthusiasm and excitement.
Over-trying to look casual and busy and as if I'm not that involved.
Just to make sure I don't push people to run away.
Well, I might have done that nevertheless.
(here comes the part of mentioning coitus sideways and something about a chainsaw)
Oh, the games people play and then I feel I need to play them to although that's just not me and I really don't like these games and I like honesty and because of that I turn out to be just too naive and think that if I feel like this and people tell me they feel like this it's all set and done and we have a deal.
*breathe out*
Well, usually that's just not the case.
Yes, I'm naive. I believe what people tell me. I see no reason why would they lie to me, considering the situation. 
I guess I need to sleep this one through, right.
It's just ... I really like being me, now.
(Making sense: none)

Not there yet.

Well, taking it really slow.
Maybe not taking it at all.
Maybe ... maybe, yet again, I got carried away.
All excited and happy and everything, but ... nothing happened since.
Next week. Next week, for sure.
I know, it is OK this way.
Everything is just the way it's supposed to be.
Just my fragile heart wishes things to be different.
Wishes kisses and hugs and sweet little nonsenses being whispered in my ear.
I have made a decision.
I have made my call.
Just getting there ... takes time and effort.
And maybe, most likely, as it looks now, he is not in the picture.
And maybe, for sure, I am here on my own. 
And will be on my own for some time.
Just to figure myself out.
I made a promise to myself. 
For once ... for once I need this for myself.
Just not there yet.

How slow is slow?

So this thing that somehow, hm, started?
And we agreed to taking it slow?
Yeah, it is slow.
Slooow.
But, I have realised it's better for me to stop complaining.
After all, I have made one tiny decision and this involves, hm, quite some restraining from my side.
From his also, but he doesn't know it yet.
So, taking it slow is just fine with me.
Just need to pass the memo to my heart and imagination.
They're really hard to reach lately.
I wonder why.

The voice. The pain.

I was just minding my own business, watching the Grammys.
Then Alicia Keys came and started singing.
And it struck me.
Struck me harder than hard.
When in a split second, a tone in her voice brought me back.
Back to my old apartment, to the nights when I was waiting for him.
That tone in her voice, that tone.
It reminded me of all the emotions. Of all the pain. 
It reminded me of my madness and infatuation.
Nevertheless how well I am right now in regardst to him, the pain struck me.
The tone, the voice, rounded all that year, all that what was and wasn't between us.
The night. The smell of his skin. His kisses.
My nails in his back. 
My screaming.
His leaving. 
Another lonely night waiting.
And him leaving.
Words stuck in the air or in my heart.
And Alicia Keys playing in the background.
Well, I guess I won't be listening to her anytime soon.

Confused.

It is all OK.
Just got a message. Clear message. Not conventional though.
And I'm not quite sure how I feel about it.
Of course I did quite a share of over-thinking, over-analysing, over-dramatising. 
Over-everything.
I even had a minor breakdown. Tears and heavy breathing and stuff.
I felt like the Universe has lied to me.
But, it turns out that I, in my best effort and wish, managed to force the misleading answer.
Hence blaming the Universe and feeling like shit.
Well, it is not quite OK yet. 
I guess it will be after a good night sleep.
And will be after ... after a while. 
I need this thing to be done. 
Just don't know how yet.

I saw him today.

Briefly.
Just long enough to remind me.
His eyes.
His look.
His energy.
The feeling I get around him.
That was enough.
Keep reminding myself, slowly.
Slowly.
Slowly kissing him. 
Just kissing.
Slowly.

Dreaming of the first kiss.

10+ years of age.
French movie, La Boum.
Sophie Marceau as a teenage girl getting her first kiss.
Me dreaming of getting my first kiss.
Wishing I was someone else, somewhere else.
Wishing I was someone else.
This movie gave me comfort and maybe a bit of unrealistic hope and wishes.
Dreaming of my first kiss.
Dreaming. 

First kiss

The waiting game.

It's all good. We're adults. 
It is obvious that we would like to see each other again, soon, now, immediately.
But, well, there's this game, you see.
The waiting game.
Not sure who invented it. Or why, to be honest.
It's nerve wrecking game. At least for me it is. Remember, my patience issues.
So, yes, basically there's this waiting for the next move.
For a contact. 
A word. A wave. A smile. A text. A something. A sign of life.
Guys are always so busy. 
And girls always wait. At least I did.
Too afraid to text him. Not to look like I'm desperate.
Or to jinx it all. 
Maybe ... maybe ... hm ... something happened from the last time until now. Something that changed his mind. <insert panic mode>
Naah, he was totally charmed by me. <insert smug smile remembering the kisses and the look in his eyes>
But, nevertheless, somehow, not planning or wanting to, I'm still waiting.
I know this game all too well. One would thought has learned the lesson.
One is still learning.
So, what now.
Nothing, go to sleep. 
Have a good talk to yourself. 
Remember, no expectations, no planning, no scenarios. You oughta learned that lesson. 
No?
Still planning? Well, it's not quite planning, it's daydreaming. 
Tomejto tomato.
Stop it. Seriously. Stop it. 
<can't hear you. na na na na. can't hear you>
Oh. 
Well, let's go to bed. Try to sleep. Try to empty the mind. 
Void.
Void sounds great.
Waiting.
Oh well.

Floating.

He told me yesterday, that I can't even imagine what my kiss did to him.

The kiss we had that summer night, in front of my house. 

The kiss that left me breathless and walking on air.

The kiss I still claim was the best I ever had.

He told me that I can't even imagine how my kiss shook him. 

There were some other words put there to describe the kiss.

We kissed again.

The feeling came back.

I can't remember the last time I smiled that much. 

Everything he or I did, I smiled.

He smiled.

Oh, the look in his eyes.

And all the kissing we did.

And all the smiling.

Oh, and how scared I am right now.

For all the reasons you can think of.

For being damaged, broken.

For being older.

For being chaotic.

For being self-destructive.

I don't want to ruin this. Or jinx it.

I would like to scream out that we kissed and it was fucking awesome. 

But I won't.

For the first time in my life, I will try to keep this for me.

I will try to keep him for me.

One step at the time.

We got all the time in the world.

There's no need to speed things up.

I just want to lay in his arms and kiss him. 

And being kissed by him.