leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh, fuck. Terrified. I'm terrified. I haven't felt like this in nine years. And I've kissed a lot of frogs in those years to see if I could find that feeling. We finish each others sentences. We hit the same obscure references at the same moment. He plays pool really well. (Beat me 5 to 2.) He's polite without thinking about it. He's sweet but strong. He keeps me firmly in check and doesn't put up with my bullshit, but indulges my whims as if I am entitled no questions asked. He's sarcastic. He's beautiful. He's smart. He's funny. He doesn't take himself too seriously though he has every right to be serious. Each time we touch sparks fly three feet into the air and I feel like I've stuck a fork in an outlet. He said I fit really well when I leaned back against his chest on the couch and I agree. He smells like somewhere safe. I don't want to like him this much. It's too soon. I'm trying to stop it but I don't know how. It doesn't seem to be in my control. I'm the skeptic. I'm the one that doesn't trust men. What has gotten into me? I feel like I'm in a run away vehicle with no brakes. Like those cartoons trying to stop cars with their feet. I'm so screwed. Nothing that good can be true. Something's got to be wrong with him. Really, really wrong. Or else he is everything I just said...and I'm gonna be hit by a bus. God, please don't let me be hurt. (By him, not the bus.) 11:10 a.m. - July 25, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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