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