If I told her I missed her, she wouldn't believe me. I'm fairly confidant to that respect. If I told her that I made a mistake, she might believe that. A part of me knows that if I found the ambition to go to her and tell her what I'm feeling, maybe then she would understand... Then reality sets in... When she was here, I went to her and told her. She told me she was too busy. Too busy to see me, too busy to talk to me, too busy to care. Just too busy. So here I am, surfing through her blog, wishing she would have had time for me, wishing she had time to care. She doesn't. She is a world away... I'm here, and I can not put my life on hold. I have to live for me, and in doing that, I must let go. I suppose my attachment stems from my instant attraction to her. That eye-locking shit you only see in the movies. I gathered the courage to ask her out, and that first kiss... the first time anyone has ever given me goosebumps. It was only one night, but that was all I needed.
There is a stark contrast between brain sex, and physical sex... We never ventured the later, instead we stayed up all night talking about everything from quantum mechanics to politics to the pros/cons of infrared photography. I have never been able to do that before, most people prefer to silence me.
I'll let you know when I spread my wings and learn to fly solo... in the meantime, I'm grounded.
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