Why does one's heart reach out for another to hold? I wouldn't say I need someone in my life, but sometimes I feel like my heart thinks otherwise. And it's never the passing fancy--that would be too simple--it's always a burning and ever consuming flame, the kind that crawls under your skin and into the center of your body and won't let go. Sometimes I don't even think it's for a person, rather for a feeling--the feeling to be needed in return, to be someone else's haunting presence.
There's this one right now who doesn't know I exist. Well, he knows I exist, but I don't think he could possibly know or reciprocate this fierce master to whom I am enslaved. He's just right--well, aren't they all. He's not perfect because I don't see anyone as being perfect, he's just right. At least for me. Perhaps. Maybe if we got to know each other better, maybe if we got a good judge of each other's characters, he'd see it too. Most likely it's just wishful thinking.
I shouldn't dwell. Dwelling leads to too active an imagination for my liking. Though it's hard to focus and my thoughts are fuzzy at the slightest mention of his name. Oh, how I wish I didn't feel this way. It's so bittersweet. The hope fills you ever so briefly, but the reality remains, stinging like no physical pain can. Oh I hate loving as much as I hate hating. Were I lacking of so much emotion, I might find this more bearable.
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