I now realise how silly I was; expecting a label to calm my anxiety. When you told me there needn't be a time nor day to mark the occasion, that it will happen naturally, I reluctantly agreed. But now, as I unravel my thoughts, I kind of understand it.
Where you said I expected more of yourself, I inhaled it as a sermon. Yet, if that is true and more is what I was searching for, does it mean we've reached the end? Does it mean I should start on journey in search not for more, but what would be enough?
I think, it's different then when I first perceived it. And what the two of us believe what more is, is different. More, in your eyes, does not exist. More, in mine, manifests itself. A feeling that is natural, like an endless spring, that would seemingly quench my thirst unoticeably.
More, I am foolish. I am silly. More, swept us up unknowingly. I would say now, we are more then what I used to define as more. And, while the bitter mingles with the sweet, I had less when I had more. I now have more when I have less.
At the very least, I won't be like your past lovers in your stories, however fascinating and exciting they are. I feel its a bit of a saving grace, that I, by technicalities sake, I should not be defined as a past partner. You may think it's strange but if I am not to be one of them, I want to hold to something close, for the sake of myself. As much as I love your adventures, I'd hope that ours remains so. Just ours.
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
dededos
annaxmalina
