I wanted to call him last night, despite the fact that we spent all afternoon curled up in each other. I wanted to thank him. It feels weird to feel so grateful to someone for treating me with basic kindness and respect, but the amount of gratitude I had toward him for that was immense. He kept asking me yesterday, what I was smiling about. What I was thinking. I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t know how to verbalize the intensity, and I didn’t want to freak him out with the heaviness of such a feeling. I chickened out and just ended up telling him what a great time I had with him.
He gave me the most special gift, something I’ve been wanting for so, so fucking long. I was telling my grandma about it today, and it made me cry, the heaviness of it. How it just shatters me that... this thing I’ve been wanting so long, and it wasn’t a hard thing to give. Even if that one day had been it, it was a dream come true. It was everything I’d always imagined and more. And so fucking SIMPLE. To lay curled up with a boy I like and give tender touches and soft, lingering kisses and laugh together and feel safe to explore without worrying if he’ll be upset that I won’t go all the way. For him to make me feel special, like he cares. A soft little oasis of intimacy, just for a little while. That’s IT. And that has somehow been so difficult to find.
I’m so easy to love, to get along with, and so eager to please. I’ve never understood how it’s felt like pulling teeth to find even a taste of that. It had nothing to do with me, though, and everything to do with other people.