It’s been a very long time since I last felt the rush; the rush you feel when you are having firsts with someone. The first time that someone calls you on the phone. The first time you call him. The first time he calls your name. The first time you hear the smile in his voice when he hears yours. The first time you find an excuse to talk to him. The first time he finds his. (Will he, ever?) The first time you plan to meet, be it a date or otherwise.
It’s a different kind of high. Not like that of any drug. (Not that I’ve ever tried any!) It’s when your body, heart and soul feel light as a feather; feel afloat; feel ALIVE.
I thought I was cured of my addiction. How could I have gone without for so long?
But I don’t know if it is love. I thought I was in love twice before. Neither time was I. It was infatuation. It was obsession. It was lust. Love? Never. Or is it possible to fall out of love as quickly as you fall in?
The first time I was so young. Not that young actually, for my ID read 24. But it was a first for me, emotionally, physically.
And he was the wrong one. Even in the deepest depts of my emotional madness, not once did I fancy myself with him forever. I always knew. That’s what gained me the reputation of being a man in my relationships; the ability to keep my brains detached, no matter how involved my heart was. I took all the crap for a precious though wasted 14 months before I broke the whole thing off. I had not caught my losses short though. My life, my soul body and heart, were already different. Bruised and broken. Better late than never though, right?
The second time was with the wrong man again. But I was faster in realizing it this time. Faster in acting on my realization. Though I knew how wrong it was from the very first moment, I could not resist the temptation. Blame it on the circumstances. Blame it on my foolish heart. Blame it on my addiction. All I knew was that I was willing to give it a go while I could.
It was very strange when it was over; how it was over. I didn’t regret having lost it for a moment. I felt like there had never been anything to lose in the first place. I felt relieved. Felt ready to live the rest of my life. I simply didn’t know that there was nothing left to the rest of my life.
Until I met him.
He’s a cutie. I’d kill to look at his long lashes and baby-smile all day long; for many days to come. (There goes the man in me again!) But is it love, this time?
I love the high you feel the first time he laughs at one the goofy jokes you make at your own expense. I love to hear him laugh.
I love the rush when you fall in love.
Love to love…
It’s a different kind of high. Not like that of any drug. (Not that I’ve ever tried any!) It’s when your body, heart and soul feel light as a feather; feel afloat; feel ALIVE.
I thought I was cured of my addiction. How could I have gone without for so long?
But I don’t know if it is love. I thought I was in love twice before. Neither time was I. It was infatuation. It was obsession. It was lust. Love? Never. Or is it possible to fall out of love as quickly as you fall in?
The first time I was so young. Not that young actually, for my ID read 24. But it was a first for me, emotionally, physically.
And he was the wrong one. Even in the deepest depts of my emotional madness, not once did I fancy myself with him forever. I always knew. That’s what gained me the reputation of being a man in my relationships; the ability to keep my brains detached, no matter how involved my heart was. I took all the crap for a precious though wasted 14 months before I broke the whole thing off. I had not caught my losses short though. My life, my soul body and heart, were already different. Bruised and broken. Better late than never though, right?
The second time was with the wrong man again. But I was faster in realizing it this time. Faster in acting on my realization. Though I knew how wrong it was from the very first moment, I could not resist the temptation. Blame it on the circumstances. Blame it on my foolish heart. Blame it on my addiction. All I knew was that I was willing to give it a go while I could.
It was very strange when it was over; how it was over. I didn’t regret having lost it for a moment. I felt like there had never been anything to lose in the first place. I felt relieved. Felt ready to live the rest of my life. I simply didn’t know that there was nothing left to the rest of my life.
Until I met him.
He’s a cutie. I’d kill to look at his long lashes and baby-smile all day long; for many days to come. (There goes the man in me again!) But is it love, this time?
I love the high you feel the first time he laughs at one the goofy jokes you make at your own expense. I love to hear him laugh.
I love the rush when you fall in love.
Love to love…
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